“But,” said Miss Knowles, lightly, as she followed Campe out of the room and along a passage, “there are no strange knights to beat upon the portals with the handles of their swords; there are no arquebuseers to swarm over the wall.”
“No; that’s gone for good; but,” and Bat Scanlon thought he detected an undercurrent of something in the crime specialist’s voice, “as Mr. Campe suggested a while ago, high walls cannot keep out thoughts. Peril in these later days is not as candid as in feudal times—it has a mysterious quality—we can neither hear nor see it, at times, but it is there, nevertheless.”
The girl looked at the speaker; and there was a smile in her blue eyes.
“And you think a place like Schwartzberg might get its romance in such a very modern manner! I’ll not believe it. Nothing
