They turned and slowly began the tramp over the hills toward Schwartzberg.
The afternoon sun lay warm and red on the western slopes of the hills, and where it fell upon the walls of the castle it had a peculiar effect.
“Even is broad day, Schwartzberg is no easy place for me,” said Scanlon, his eyes upon the grey pile.
“How is that?” asked the special detective.
“It must be,” said the big man in reply, “that the things that have happened in and about the castle have so coloured my feelings towards it that I can see it only in one way.”
“And that is——”
“A place of peril,” answered Scanlon, soberly. “A place where danger is always waiting to reach out its hand and give you something when you are not expecting it. As you know, I’m not the kind of a fellow to pick up impressions of this kind; but Schwartzberg’s put its mark on me deep and strong, and I can’t shake it off.”
CHAPTER XXI
SHOWS HOW THE GREAT SWORD SPOKE TO SCANLON
BUT the automobile voyagers had not returned when the two men reached Schwartzberg.
“Campe is taking plenty of time, as per request,” observed Mr. Scanlon, as they settled down to wait. “Unless,” and he looked at the other, “you think something has happened to him.”