In the center of the façade was the large oriel window.
A portion of the old organ-loft clung to it, and was lost on either side in a mass of ruined, moss-covered stone, which was the remains of a flight of stone steps.
"No one but a ghost," muttered the captain, "could walk along there."
With an emphatic exclamation he turned his attention to the wall next the house.
He fancied that he could distinguish the dark outline of a door, but, by the aid of a small opera-glass which he had brought with him, he made out that the ivy had grown over it to such an extent that egress or exit by it was impossible.
He did not believe in ghosts, and yet if the figure he had seen were a human and alive how did it reach the deserted room?
While he pondered a footstep sounded behind him—so suddenly that he turned face to face with Leicester Dodson.
The meeting was so unexpected that both men were, so to speak, off their guard.
For a moment only was the captain's face naked, the next he had resumed his mask, and held out his hand.
"Good-morning; you startled me! This is a place for ghostly meetings, and though the hour is inappropriate, a little surprise is allowable."