the
castle. In a few minutes the little band of fishermen returned,
carrying lanterns in their hands, and with a priest walking amongst
them. They reached the spot, and paused, while the priest commenced
to mumble a prayer. He was scarcely half-way through when he was
interrupted.

"The money is gone!" cried Antonio.

"Every piece!" echoed Ferdinand.

There was a moment's blank silence. Then they all crossed themselves.
"Let us go home," whispered Antonio hoarsely. "The Count knows. He has
been here."

The priest turned away disgusted, and the others followed him, talking
with bated breath amongst themselves. And, in the darkness, no one
noticed Guiseppe's absence.

CHAPTER XXXIV

"A VOICE AND FIGURE FROM THE DISTANT PAST"

It was a long, steep ascent, hewn out of the solid rock; but at last
Paul stood before the great gates of the castle, and paused to take
breath. Hundreds of feet below him his yacht was riding at anchor,
looking like a toy vessel upon a painted sea, and a little group of
scattered lights showed him where the hamlet lay. Before him was the
stern, massive front of the castle, wrapped in profound gloom, but
standing out in clear, ponderous outline against the starlit sky.
There seemed to be no light from any part of it, and the great iron
gates leading into the courtyard were closed. Nor was there any sound
at all, not even the barking of a dog. It was like a dwelling of the
dead.

A great, rusty bell-chain hung by the side of the gate, and as there
seemed to be no other means of communication with the interior, Paul
pulled it vigorously. Its hoarse echoes had scarcely died away before
several rough-looking islanders, carrying flaring oil lamps, trooped
into the courtyard from the rear of the building, and one of them,
drawing the bolts, threw open the gates.

"I have come to see the Count," Paul said, addressing the nearest of
them. "Will you conduct me to him?"

The man replied energetically, but in a _patois_ utterly
unintelligible. He led the way across the courtyard towards the
castle, however, and Paul followed close behind. They did not enter
by the front, but by a low, nail-studded door at the extreme corner of
the tower, which the man immediately closed and locked behind him.

Paul looked around him curiously, but in the semi-darkness there was
little to see. He was in a corridor, of which the walls were simply
whitewashed, and the floor bare stone; but as they passed on