"It is all of a piece," remarked the Colonel. "The neglect is in a fashion systematic." He laid his hand on the chain of the bell-pull, but the bell had lost its clapper. The two friends heard no sound save the peculiar grating creak of the rusty spring. A little door in the wall beside the gateway, though ruinous, held good against all their efforts to force it open.
"Oho! all this is growing very interesting," Philip said to his companion.
"If I were not a magistrate," returned M. d'Albon, "I should think that the woman in black is a witch."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the cow came up to the railings and held out her warm damp nose, as if sh