Nothing like a cry--not even a loud breath--had escaped her. The figure--only one had entered--had reached a point directly opposite the place where our adventurers sat, when a terrific crash fell that shook the structure from its massive roof to its foundation; and following close upon it came a flood of light, filling the old chapel with a blaze as of noonday; and the light enveloped the new-comer as in a glowing halo. And this is what Percy Maitland saw--saw it as plainly and clearly as he ever saw anything in his life: A man, tall and stalwart, in the robe of a gray friar, with the cowl drawn only partially over his head. And the face--Oh! what did it mean? It was his father’s face!--the face of Hugh Maitland, as he remembered it, in its manly strength and vigor. It was only for a moment--for two or three seconds--and then the darkness fell again and the poor glimmer of the lantern appeared no more than the glow of a fire-fly. Only for one poor moment; yet had he looked for an hour he could not have seen it more distinctly. If ever he saw his father’s face, he was sure he saw it then under that gray cowl. Or it had been something so nearly resembling it that the distinction could not be traced? And still, with wildly beating heart, he listened. He heard the footfall, and he saw the ghostly glimmer of the lantern; the gray friar was approaching the altar. Suddenly the light disappeared. A moment later the watcher heard a low, rumbling sound, and then all was still. By and by another bolt of thunder fell, and a flood of electric light filled the chapel. Both Percy and Cordelia peered with all their might into the far end of the place; but the friar had gone! The altar was there and the solid wall behind it, and that was all. The strange intruder had disappeared as though the stone pavement had opened and swallowed him up! “Percy!” whispered the trembling girl, as soon as she dared to trust her voice above her breath, “What was it? Who was it?” “Darling, I do not know. I am lost in wonder.” “But where did he go? I certainly saw him, close by the altar. I saw the lantern when it cast its feeble rays on the dark rock. Where could he have gone to?” “Dear girl, I can not imagine. But we may henceforth be able to better understand the peasants’ earnest stories of the place being haunted. You have heard them?” “Yes, yes, often; and have laughed at them. But,” after a pause, “is not the solution a greater puzzle than were the ghosts?” “Verily, dear girl, it is even so. Aye, it is a puzzle; and it must, I fear, remain a puzzle, until we can gain more light than we are likely to receive to-night.” He would not tell her of the greatest marvel of all to himself. What to think of it he did not know. His mind was in a whirl. He must have time to consider. He knew his father was dead; for he had sat by his dying bed, and had held his hand while he breathed his last, and had seen the mortal body buried in its mother earth.