ns."

"Was she pretty?" inquired Philip.

"I don't know. I saw nothing but those eyes in her head."

"The devil take dinner at Cassan!" exclaimed the Colonel; "let us stay
here. I am as eager as a boy to see the inside of this queer place. The
window-sashes are painted red, do you see? There is a red line round
the panels of the doors and the edges of the shutters. It might be the
devil's own dwelling; perhaps he took it over when the monks went out.
Now, then, let us give chase to the black and white lady; come along!"
cried Philip, with forced gaiety.

He had scarcely finished speaking when the two sportsmen heard a cry as
if some bird had been taken in a snare. They listened. There was a sound
like the murmur of rippling water, as something forced its way through
the bushes; but diligently as they lent their ears, there was no
footfall on the path, the earth kept the secret of the mysterious
woman's passage, if indeed she had moved from her hiding-place.

"This is very strange!" cried Philip.

Following the wall of the path, the two friends reached before long
a forest road leading to the village of Chauvry; they went along this
track in the direction of the highway to Paris, and reached another
large gateway. Through the railings they had a complete view of
the facade of the mysterious house. From this point of view, the
dilapidation was still more apparent. Huge cracks had riven the walls
of the main body of the house built round three sides of a square.
Evidently the place was allowed to fall to ruin; there were holes in
the roof, broken slates and tiles lay about below. Fallen fruit from the
orchard trees was left to rot on the ground; a cow was grazing over
the bowling-green and trampling the flowers in the garden beds; a goat
browsed on the green grapes and young vine-shoots on the trellis.

"It is all of a piece," remarked the Colonel. "The neglect is in a
fashion systematic." He laid his hand on the chain of the bell-pull, but
the bell had lost its clapper. The two friends heard no sound save the
peculiar grating creak of the rusty spring. A little door in the wall
beside the gateway, though ruinous, held good against all their efforts
to force it open.

"Oho! all this is growing very interesting," Philip said to his
companion.

"If I were not a magistrate," returned M. d'Albon, "I should think that
the woman in black is a witch."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the cow came up to t