—made itself heard; it was three distinct blows on the casement.
The knight shivered and drew the coverlet closer over him.
“’Tis but a bird flapping his wings against the lattice,” he said, to comfort himself.
But again, amidst one of the solemn pauses of the tempest, was heard the three knocks, and then a groan. The knight groaned in concert, and you need not laugh at him for so doing. I doubt if any one of my readers would much relish hearing such sounds at such a time, and in such a place, more especially as our poor hero had fully ascertained the fact that nothing human could touch that window from without.
“Oh! I do hope it is a bird,” he muttered once.
The knocks were now renewed, not three only, but a perfect torrent of blows, and at last a voice wailed forth:
“Let me in. Let me in.”
“I—I—daren’t,” gasped the count, now fairly covering his head with the sheet.
“You must.”
“I can’t.”
“You shall.”
“I shan’t.”
“Very well then,” said the Voice. “I wanted to come in peaceably, and have no row, but it is all your fault, so here goes.”
Then came a tremendous crash, the shutters were forced inwards, and by the electric glare of the lightning, the knight beheld a figure leaping in, and then all was black darkness.
CHAPTER IV. TREATS OF THE GHOST.
“Look at me,” said the Voice.
“I can’t see you, it is so dark,” replied Alphonso, with a quavering voice.
“Very well, I will soon amend that,” and in a trice, the light as of a burning torch was diffused through the room.
The figure had but seized one of the pine logs, and rubbing it slightly with his forefinger, it had instantly ignited, and now burned with a sulphurous smell.
