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For as though Nayland Smith's words had been heard by the ghostly inhabitant of Graywater Park, as though the tortured priest sought once more release from his age-long sufferings there came echoing, hollowly and remotely, as if from a subterranean cavern, the sound of knocking. From whence it actually proceeded I was wholly unable to determine.

There was a reference, in the chapter dealing with Graywater, so a certain monkish manuscript said to repose in the national collection and to contain a plan of these passages and stairways. "The Keeper of the Manuscripts at the Museum very courteously assisted me in my inquiries, and the ancient parchment was placed in my hands.

No, sir, he hadn't been robbed; his money and watch were on him but his pocketbook lay open beside him; though, funny as it seems, there were three five-pound notes in it!" "Do you understand, Petrie?" cried Sir Lionel. "Smith evidently obtained a copy of the old plan of the secret passages of Graywater and Monkswell, sooner than he expected, and determined to return to-night.

I cried whilst Sir Lionel Barton and Dr. Hamilton stared at one another, dumbfounded "you think he is on the point of flying from England " "The Chinese yacht, Chanak-Kampo, is lying two miles off the coast and in the sight of the tower of Monkswell!" The scene of our return to Graywater Park is destined to live in my memory for ever.

We had proceeded for some three hundred yards, and, according to my calculation, were clear of the orchard of Graywater Park and close to the fringe of trees beyond; I was taking note of the curious old brickwork of the passage, when "Look out, sir!" cried Kennedy and the light began dancing madly. "Just under your feet! Now it's up the wall! mind your hand, Dr. Petrie!"

Imprisoned by the elements in Graywater Park, we listened to the wind howling with the voice of a million demons around the ancient manor, to the creatures of Sir Lionel's collection swelling the unholy discord. Then came the news that there was a big steamer on the Pinion Rocks that the lifeboat could not reach her.

I thought the subject rather ill chosen, but recognized that my friend was talking more or less at random and in desperation; indeed, failing his reminiscences of Graywater Park, I think the demon of silence must have conquered us completely.

"I was about to tell you," resumed Nayland Smith, with a gaiety palpably forced, "of the traditional ghost of Graywater Park. He is a black clad priest, said to be the Spanish chaplain of the owner of the Park in the early days of the Reformation.

The local legend, according to which a passage exists, linking Graywater and Monkswell, is confirmed by the monk's plan." "What?" cried Sir Lionel, springing to his feet "a passage between the Park and the old tower! My dear sir, it's impossible! Such a passage would have to pass under the River Starn! It's only a narrow stream, I know, but "

Oram, whose motherly interest in the girl had touched me deeply, had gone with her to her room, where no doubt her presence had done much to restore the girl's courage. Graywater Park stood upon a well-wooded slope, and, to the southwest, starting above the trees almost like a giant Spanish priest, showed a solitary tower. With a vague and indefinite interest I watched it.