"That of Ahab."
"Are you a prophet or a disciple?"
"I am a disciple, but I have come to be made a prophet."
"Then welcome to the House of the Lord."
Scarcely had these words been uttered than the iron bars which held the door were noiselessly removed, the bolts shot as noiselessly back into their sockets, and the door opened silently, as if by magic.
The rider and his horse disappeared beneath the arch. The door closed behind them. The man who had opened it so slowly and closed it so quickly approached the new-comer as he dismounted.
The latter looked curiously at him. He was dressed in the long white robes of the Carthusian monks, and his hood entirely concealed his head. He took the horse's bridle, but evidently more as a favor than as a duty. In the meantime the traveller unfastened his valise from the saddle, and drawing his pistols from their holsters, put them in his belt with the others.
The traveller glanced around him, and seeing no light and hearing no sound, he asked: "Are the Companions absent?"
"They have gone on an expedition," replied the brother.