The Argosy — page 200: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

184 The Master of Greylands. there. John Bent reached the gate again, and the first thing he did was, to try it. It yielded instantly. It opened at his touch. And the man stood not much less amazed than he had before been to find it fastened. At that moment the sound of approaching footsteps in the road struck on his ear; he turned swiftly, his heart beating with eager hope: for he thought they might prove to be the steps of Anthony Castlemaine. Buft they were those of Mr. Nettleby. The officer was returning from his mission of night supervision, whatever it might especially be. John Bent met him, and told his tale. * Nonsense!” cried the superintendent, after he had listened. ‘ They would not be likely to stay in those deserted ruins—and the Fnar’s Keep is no better than aruin. Are you sure it was Mr. Castlemaine you saw go in?” “Quite sure. But I can’t think what he could want there.” “You don’t think you were dreaming?” asked Mr. Nettleby, who, by this time, evidently fancied the tale was altogether more like a dream than a reality. “J don’t believe the gate has a key; or that it ever had one.” He was examining the gate as he spoke. The lock was there as usual ; but of any sign that a key had been in it that night, there was none, Crossing the ruins, they stood looking out over the sea; at the line of glittering moonlight, at the distant beats catching their fish. From that they went into the Friar’s Keep. It lay open to the chapel ruins. Pillars of stone supported the upper floor—the floor which the spirit of the dead-and-gone Grey Friar was supposed to haunt. It was rather a ghostly-looking place altogether; the intersecting pillars and the arches above, and some open arches facing the sea, where a little light streamed through. They could not see the sea from this place, for the outer wall was nearly as high as they were ; but not so high as the arches, and the light and the salt fresh smell of the sea came wafting in. There they stood on the stone floor of those cloisters—as people had fallen into the way of calling them—and shouted out the name of Anthony Castlemaine. Neither sight nor sound came back in answer: all was quiet and lonely as the grave: there was not the slightest sign that anyone had been there. “ If they did come in here, as you say,” observed Mr. Nettleby, with that same ring of disbelief in his voice, ‘I'll tell you what it is, Bent. They must have come out again at once, and gone home up Chape. Lane together to Greylands’ Rest.” This view of the case had not presented itself to the mind of John Bent. He revolved it for an instant, and then saw that it was the most feasible solution of the problem. But he did not—feel quite satisfied ; for it was difficult to fancy Anthony Castlemaine would so go in —_) ECORNICLOOO a