With a slight sigh of satisfaction he seated himself upon a stone and, revolver in hand, waited and watched.
How long he could have withstood the influence of that dreadful place and time it is impossible to say, but as the clock chimed the quarter to one his nerves, strung to their farthest, received a shock which dispelled all memories of the past, all hopes and guilty ambitions for the future.
Before him in the darkness and up in the deserted room was the blue light, dimly burning.
A shudder crept through his frame.
His hand grasped the revolver, his gaze was chained to that window.
The light grew more intense, slowly was transformed as he had seen it before, and there, plain and distinct, at the window stood the horrible, fearful White Nun!
For a while the figure remained motionless at the window, then it turned and he knew instinctively that it was coming in the direction of the oriel window.
If so it would in a few minutes be above him. He waited, and his eyes turned to the window.
For a moment he lost consciousness, the next, by a strong effort, he regained something of his old dare-devil courage, and he bit his lip to keep himself awake as the horrible figure approached with floating motion toward him.
Its face was turned from him as it came, but a bird flew out of the ivy with a wild shriek of terror, and the skull face and gleaming eyes followed the bird's flight.