glimpse of it since.

Ten minutes before, I had inquired the way from a farm-laborer whom I
had met on the road, and he had answered me with a curiosity but
thinly veiled. His directions had been characterized by that rustic
vagueness which assumes in the inquirer an intimate knowledge of local
landmarks. But nevertheless I believed I had come aright. I gathered
from its name that Friar's Park was in part at least a former monastic
building, and certainly the cracked bell spoke with the voice of
ancient monasteries, and had in it the hush of cloisters and the sigh
of renunciation.

Although I had mentioned nothing of the purpose of my journey to mine
host of the Abbey Inn or to any of his cronies--and these were few in
number--I had hoped to find Hawkins at the lodge; and a second time I
awoke the ghostly bell-voice. But nothing responded to its call; man,
bird and beast had seemingly deserted Friar's Park.

Faintly I detected the lowing of cattle in some distant pasture; the
ranks of firs whispered secretly one to another; and the pall above
the hills grew blacker and began to stretch out over the valley.

Amid this ominous stillness of nature I began to ascend the
cone-strewn path. Evidently enough the extensive grounds had been
neglected for years, and that few pedestrians and fewer vehicles ever
sought Friar's Park was demonstrated by the presence of luxurious
weeds in the carriage-way. Having proceeded for some distance, until
the sheer hillside seemed to loom over me like the wall of a tower, I
paused, peering about in the ever growing darkness. I was aware of a
physical chill; certainly no ray of sunlight ever penetrated to this