After walking for about twenty minutes I came to a point where the pine-covered hills on one side opened out, falling away and leaving a great circle of flat country of, perhaps, a mile in diameter, after which they closed up again and the valley resumed its course. It was here in this lower ground that I rightly guessed the old Monastery must be; it was just such a spot as the monks were wont to choose for their dwelling-place, and the next turn in my path gave me a peep of a great house showing here and there between the trees which grew down to the edge of a broad band of water which encircled it. Remembering the Baroness’s description of the Monastery on an island I needed no further guide. A few steps on brought me to a gate in a fence which evidently ran round the property. The path I had taken was, then, one leading to the Monastery.
“I won’t trespass this side of dinner,” I said; “but it is just as well to have got my bearings by daylight.”
So after a good look round I turned and retraced my steps to the inn.
Von Lindheim met me with a rather perturbed face.
“More complications,” he said; “fate is dogging me still. The Jaguar’s long paw has already reached to the Geierthal.”
“What do you mean? What has happened?”
“A stranger is at the inn already. An Englishman, or, at least, one who speaks English.”
“Another spurious Professor—of what?”
“A sportsman this time.”
“Speaking English?”