At the next corner he halted, inspecting the dimly lighted street for signs of soldiery, but no living being moved. The spectre-like stranger had vanished. While the cavalier stood, he heard distant cavalry. It was wholesome and earthly at least; and although it called for caution, yet it was in some sort reassuring, and he went on in greater ease of mind. A few minutes later he entered another square flanked on the left by a large edifice recognizable by the glow on its gilded roof as the Temple of the Sun. He had his bearings, and knew that the Huatenay was not far beyond. The plaza was the ancient Coricancha, or Place of Gold. Half-way across he heard horses once more, approaching, and not distant. The great door of the temple stood open. He hurried to its shelter as a patrol of cavalry trotted into the square. They were coming in his direction, and he entered the building. The darkness was absolute, but opposite was another door, faintly lighted by the reflection from the heavens. He stole toward it with reluctance, awed by the vastness of the hall, whose walls sent back sepulchral echoes of his furtive tread. High up indistinctly outlined windows revealed the loftiness of the interior, which seemed to be unceiled. The place was lugubrious, as if tenanted by ghosts of votaries of the ancient faith, mourning its desecration. So thought Cristoval, and hastened his steps—then stopped. There had been a movement in the doorway in front of him: a mere blur, and gone, noiseless as a shadow. There was a trickling chilliness under his back-plate, and again he made a sign of the cross. The place was unholy—accursed by pagan rites. He must out of it! Should it be to face the patrol, or—the other? The open air of the court was nearer, and he quickened his pace to gain it, assailed by a multitude of whispered reverberations; chased, as he knew, by devils, spooks, goblins, and lemures.