A somber light gleamed in his eyes. Vera glanced at him half timidly. But she knew how deeply her grandfather loved her, and this gave her courage to proceed. "I don't like to hear you talk like that," she said. "It is no time to be harsh or hard on anybody. I don't know what he did, but I have always been sorry for Uncle Ralph. And something tells me he is coming home again. Grandfather, you would not turn him away?" "If he were ill, if he were dying, if he suffered from some grave physical affliction, perhaps not. Otherwise----" Ravenspur ceased to talk. The brooding look was still in his eyes; his white head was bent low on his breast. Marion's white fingers touched his hand caressingly. The deepest bond of sympathy existed between these two. And at the smile in Marion's eye Ravenspur's face cleared. "You would do all that is good and kind," Marion said. "You cannot deceive me: oh, I know you too well for that. And if Uncle Ralph came now!" Marion paused, and the whole group looked one to the other with startled eyes. With nerves strung tightly like theirs, the slightest deviation from the established order of things was followed by a feeling of dread and alarm. And now, on the heavy silence of the night, the great bell gave clamorous and brazen tongue. Ravenspur started to his feet. "Strange that anyone should come at this time of night," he said. "No, Gordon, I will go. There can be no danger, for this is tangible." He passed along the halls and passages till he came to the outer oak. He let down the portcullis. "Come into the light," he cried, "and let me see who you are." A halting, shuffling step advanced, and presently the gleam of the hall lantern shone down upon the face of a man whose features were strangely seamed and scarred. It seemed as if the whole of his visage had been scored and carved in criss-cross lines until not one inch of uncontaminated flesh remained. His eyes were closed; he came forward with fumbling, outstretched hands as if searching for some familiar object. The features were expressionless, but this might have been the result of those cruel scars. But the whole aspect of the man spoke of dogged, almost pathetic, determination. "You look strange and yet familiar to me," said Ravenspur. "Who are you and whence do you come?" "I know you," the stranger replied in a strangled whisper. "I could recognize your voice anywhere. You are my father." "And you are Ralph, Ralph, come back again!" There was horror, indignation, surprise in the cry. The words rang loud and clear, so loud and clear that they reached the dining-hall and brought the rest of the party hurrying out into the hall. Vera came forward with swift, elastic stride. With a glance of shuddering pity at the scarred face she laid a hand on Ravenspur's arm. "My dream," she whispered. "It may be the hand of God. Oh, let him stay!" "There is no place here for Ralph Ravenspur," the old man cried.