“Oh!—and got lost!” broke in the eager listener. “I remember the night, and how frightened everybody was. Just such another night as it was last night. Am I not right?”
“Entirely so, darling. They went up the crag, and on their way down they lost the path. The storm and darkness came and found them in sight of the chapel, and there they sought shelter. They had found some stone seats away in one corner, where they sat down and waited for the storm to pass, or at least for the rain to hold up a bit.
“And now comes the wonderful part. While they thus sat they were startled by the sound of somebody walking outside, and presently afterward they were sure somebody had entered the chapel. As luck would have it, a few seconds later there came a stream of lightning that made the place as light as day, and they plainly saw a human figure, tall and large, enveloped in the robe and cowl of a gray friar! Strangely enough, not more than three seconds had passed when another flash came, and this time they saw the friar close by the altar. The third flash came in a few seconds more, and the friar had vanished.
“The mystery was, what could have become of the strange intruder? They, father and son, could both swear that he had not gone out by the door. He could not have done it and they not know it. The windows were beyond the reach of any man unless he had a ladder or a tall stepping-place of some kind to help him. And yet he had gone—vanished, as into thin air.
“On the next day they went to the chapel; and I went with them; and they there told the story over, at the same time pointing out the different localities—the course which the figure took—and the point at the altar where he stood before he disappeared.
“That is the story, Cordelia. And I am free to confess it has puzzled me. That a person in the guise of a Franciscan monk, or gray friar, entered the chapel on that evening I am confident. Also, I can not doubt that he made his way out without going by the vestibule or through a window.”
“And now, my dear grandpa, what do you think of it? How do you think it was done?”
“To tell you the truth, dear child, I have thought there must be, somewhere near that altar, a secret trap—an entrance, in some way, to hidden vaults or crypts below.”
“But you never found anything?”
“No. I have searched at every possible point. I have closely examined every seam and every crevice, but nothing have I been able to find—not a trace, not a sign.”