There were no echoes in the valley. It seemed a place of silence and gloom. As they approached the ruins they surveyed them with increasing wonder. There were old turrets and towers, crumbling and cracked, as if shaken by many earthquakes. The black windows glared at them like grim eyes.
“I will bet my boots that there is no one around this yere ranch,” muttered Buckhart. “Perhaps that old priest fooled us a whole lot.”
Merry shook his head.
“I am sure not,” he said.
They mounted the rise on which the castle was built and passed through a huge gate and dark passage, coming into a courtyard, with the crumbling ruins all around them. Here they paused. Suddenly at one of the narrow, upper windows of the old turret a face appeared. Some one was there looking out at them. Frank’s keen eyes were the first to discover it. Then to their ears came the cry of a voice electrifying them. The face at the window pressed nearer, and, together with the voice, it was recognized.
“Felicia!” he exclaimed. “There she is, Frank. Can you see her in that window up there? Felicia! Felicia!”
But even as he called to her thus she suddenly vanished. As they stared at the window, another face showed for a moment and another pair of eyes looked down at them.
Then these also disappeared.
“Waugh!” exploded Brad Buckhart. “Here’s where we get into action.”