I should not mention it
to you as the cause of his illness, or refer to it in any way if you
arrived while he was there. I hesitated for some time, but in the end
I consented. The money in itself was a great temptation--you see, I am
frank with you--and, apart from that, your father at that time was on
the verge of his fever, and at such a critical time I feared the ill
results of not falling in with his wishes. So I promised, and I kept
my promise; no one--not even you--knew that he died from that dagger
thrust, and during the remainder of my stay on the island, I asked no
questions concerning his visit to the castle."

"But did you hear nothing? were there no reports?" Paul asked.

Father Adrian hesitated. "There were no reports about your father,"
he said, "but the castle itself was always the object of the most
unbounded superstition on the part of the inhabitants. They told
strange tales of midnight cries, of lights from blocked-up chambers,
and of the old Count who still dwelt there, although he had not been
seen outside the castle walls for many a year. He was reported to have
sold himself to the Evil One, and at the very mention of his name the
people crossed themselves in terror, and glanced uneasily over their
shoulders."

"Idle tales!" cried Paul angrily. "Tell me, Father Adrian, did you
know this Count of Cruta?"

There was a moment's silence. Father Adrian's face was turned away,
and he seemed in no hurry to answer. "Yes, I knew him."

"You knew him! What is he like? Tell me!"

The priest shook his head. "I have nothing to tell you," he said in a
low tone.

"You mean that you will not tell me."

The priest inclined his head. Paul turned upon him fiercely, "He was
my father's murderer," he cried.

"It may be so. But remember that nothing is known! Remember, too, that
your father's last wish was to keep secret the manner of his death!"

Paul seemed scarcely to have heard him. He was walking restlessly
up and down the apartment. Presently he stopped in front of Father
Adrian's chair.

"You have told me what happened to my father on the island," he said;
"now tell me the story of his life, which you say that he confided to
you. I must know what took him there."

CHAPTER XXIV

"THE SHATTERED VASE OF LOVE'S MOST HOLY VOWS"

Paul had not thought of ringing for lights, and, save around the
fireplace, the room was wrapped in solemn darkness. Father Adrian's
chair had been amongst the shad