e Gothic
windows and ancient tower, it turned to a dream-fabric.

The night was intensely still, not a sound could be heard, not a soul
was visible. Our footsteps alone woke the echoes as we walked to and fro
before that moonlight vision, and felt unable to leave it.

[Illustration: SOUTH-WEST EXTERIOR OF CATHEDRAL: TARRAGONA.]

The cathedral clock struck eleven. As the last stroke vibrated upon the
air, we saw a shadowy form approaching. It was not yet the ghostly hour,
therefore it must be flesh and blood, to be boldly challenged. Was
the mysterious being that haunted our corridors prowling these precincts
in search of relics? No; as the form approached we saw that it was short
and slender; almost diaphanous, almost deformed. The head seemed
enormous in comparison with the body; legs and arms were unusually long.
Yet even in the moonlight we noticed that something pale and spiritual
about the face redeemed its ugliness. We thought of Quilp, of Quasimodo,
all the grotesques we had ever heard of, but he only resembled these at
a distance; we soon found that he was far better than they.

This apparition was followed by a lean, lanky youth who seemed to be
shod in india-rubber, so silent his footsteps. He towered above
Quasimodo, whom he followed as a shadow follows its substance. We
happened to be standing near a small gate in the south railings, and up
to this gate came Quasimodo, inserted a magic key into the lock and
swung it open. What did it mean? Were they, this moonlight night, going
into the interior? What a weird experience; what an opportunity not to
be lost! The apparition must be won over.

"Are you entering the cathedral?" we asked as they passed in and half
closed the gate. To our relief a very earthly voice responded in
matter-of-fact tones.

"Yes," it replied. "Do you want to enter also?"

It needed no further invitation. We passed through, and the gate was
closed and locked. As we heard the sharp click and Quasimodo pocketed
the key, we felt ourselves prisoners. All the possible and impossible
stories we had ever heard of midnight murders and mysterious
disappearances flashed through the brain. But the die was cast and we
must follow. The enigma which even at the instant puzzled us was the
motive for this midnight visit. We could think of none.

We stood for a moment in the space between the railings and the
building. Repairs were going on; it had been turned into a stonemason's
yard. The cold m