"HE GRIPPED MY ARM."
We rushed down, and along the passage, the rattling going in front of us. But we were too slow. When we reached the study, the green baize curtain was drawn, and everything was perfectly still. After a moment's hesitation I pushed back the curtain. There sat the Stone Rider, immovable as ever, mailed and erect.
"He looks quite harmless," I said, doubtfully.
Auberthal bent down and held the candle closer. On the side of the horse were great dark stains, and the armour glimmered redly in the flame. The painter put his hand on one big patch, and drew back quickly.
"I could swear it was wet," he whispered. "Let us go!"
We returned, and I drew him into my room.
"It's very odd!"
"Very!" He held up his hand. "Do you see?"
"Good Heavens!" I gasped, "it's all red!"
"With blood," he said, solemnly.