e torture, which the other had
patiently borne for the sake of his oath.

The two most famous smugglers who haunted Pleinmont at that period were
Blasco and Blasquito. They were _Tocayos_. This was a sort of Spanish or
Catholic relationship which consisted in having the same patron saint in
heaven; a thing, it will be admitted, not less worthy of consideration
than having the same father upon earth.

When a person was initiated into the furtive ways of the contraband
business, nothing was more easy, or, from a certain point of view, more
troublesome. It was sufficient to have no fear of dark nights, to repair
to Pleinmont, and to consult the oracle located there.

IV

PLEINMONT

Pleinmont, near Torteval, is one of the three corners of the island of
Guernsey. At the extremity of the cape there rises a high turfy hill,
which looks over the sea.

The height is a lonely place. All the more lonely from there being one
solitary house there.

This house adds a sense of terror to that of solitude.

It is popularly believed to be haunted.

Haunted or not, its aspect is singular.

Built of granite, and rising only one story high, it stands in the midst
of the grassy solitude. It is in a perfectly good condition as far as
exterior is concerned; the walls are thick and the roof is sound. Not a
stone is wanting in the sides, not a tile upon the roof. A brick-built
chimney-stack forms the angle of the roof. The building turns its back
to the sea, being on that side merely a blank wall. On examining this
wall, however, attentively, the visitor perceives a little window
bricked up. The two gables have three dormer windows, one fronting the
east, the others fronting the west, but both are bricked up in like
manner. The front, which looks inland, has alone a door and windows.
This door, too, is walled in, as are also the two windows of the
ground-floor. On the first floor--and this is the feature which is most
striking as you approach--there are two open windows; but these are even
more suspicious than the blind windows. Their open squares look dark
even in broad day, for they have no panes of glass, or even
window-frames. They open simply upon the dusk within. They strike the
imagination like hollow eye-sockets in a human face. Inside all is
deserted. Through the gaping casements you may mark the ruin within. No
panellings, no woodwork; all bare stone. It is like a windowed
sepulchre, giving liberty to the spectres