the Sabbath as on any
other day of the week. Late one Saturday night, a company were seated
in the castle, playing cards, and drinking; and all the time Sunday was
drawing nearer and nearer, and nobody heeding. At length one of them,
seeing the hands of the clock at a quarter to twelve, made the remark
that it was time to stop. He did not mention the sacred day, but all
knew what he meant. The earl laughed, and said, if he was afraid of
the kirk-session, he might go, and another would take his hand. But
the man sat still, and said no more till the clock gave the warning.
Then he spoke again, and said the day was almost out, and they ought
not to go on playing into the Sabbath. And as he uttered the word, his
mouth was pulled all on one side. But the earl struck his fist on the
table, and swore a great oath that if any man rose he would run him
through. 'What care I for the Sabbath!' he said. 'I gave you your
chance to go,' he added, turning to the man who had spoken, who was
dressed in black like a minister, 'and you would not take it: now you
shall sit where you are.' He glared fiercely at him, and the man
returned him an equally fiery stare. And now first they began to
discover what, through the fumes of the whisky and the smoke of the
pine-torches, they had not observed, namely, that none of them knew the
man, or had ever seen him before. They looked at him, and could not
turn their eyes from him, and a cold terror began to creep through
their vitals. He kept his fierce scornful look fixed on the earl for a
moment, and then spoke. 'And I gave you your chance,' he said, 'and you
would not take it: now you shall sit still where you are, and no
Sabbath shall you ever see.' The clock began to strike, and the man's
mouth came straight again. But when the hammer had struck eleven
times, it struck no more, and the clock stopped. 'This day
twelvemonth,' said the man, 'you shall see me again; and so every year
till your time is up. I hope you will enjoy your game!' The earl
would have sprung to his feet, but could not stir, and the man was
nowhere to be seen. He was gone, taking with him both door and windows
of the room--not as Samson carried off the gates of Gaza, however, for
he left not the least sign of where they had been.

From that day to this no one has been able to find the room. There the
wicked earl and his companions still sit, playing with the same pack of
cards, and waiting their doom. It has