uld not ultimately afford me some
clue to the whereabouts of the woman whom I had now grown to love so
madly.

My exploration soon took a systematic form, as I intended that it should
be exhaustive. I would take every day a separate line of advance from
the Castle, beginning at the south and working round by the east to the
north. The first day only took me to the edge of the creek, which I
crossed in a boat, and landed at the base of the cliff opposite. I found
the cliffs alone worth a visit. Here and there were openings to caves
which I made up my mind to explore later. I managed to climb up the
cliff at a spot less beetling than the rest, and continued my journey.
It was, though very beautiful, not a specially interesting place. I
explored that spoke of the wheel of which Vissarion was the hub, and got
back just in time for dinner.

The next day I took a course slightly more to the eastward. I had no
difficulty in keeping a straight path, for, once I had rowed across the
creek, the old church of St. Sava rose before me in stately gloom. This
was the spot where many generations of the noblest of the Land of the
Blue Mountains had from time immemorial been laid to rest, amongst them
the Vissarions. Again, I found the opposite cliffs pierced here and
there with caves, some with wide openings,--others the openings of which
were partly above and partly below water. I could, however, find no
means of climbing the cliff at this part, and had to make a long detour,
following up the line of the creek till further on I found a piece of
beach from which ascent was possible. Here I ascended, and found that I
was on a line between the Castle and the southern side of the mountains.
I saw the church of St. Sava away to my right, and not far from the edge
of the cliff. I made my way to it at once, for as yet I had never been
near it. Hitherto my excursions had been limited to the Castle and its
many gardens and surroundings. It was of a style with which I was not
familiar--with four wings to the points of the compass. The great
doorway, set in a magnificent frontage of carved stone of manifestly
ancient date, faced west, so that, when one entered, he went east. To my
surprise--for somehow I expected the contrary--I found the door open.
Not wide open, but what is called ajar--manifestly not locked or barred,
but not sufficiently open for one to look in. I entered, and after
passing through a wide vestibule, more lik