Then, resuming our journey, the short day quickly drew to a close, the sun sank yellow and watery over the towering pines through which we went mile after mile, a dense, interminable forest wherein the wolves lurked in winter, often rendering the road dangerous.

The temperature fell, and it froze again.  Through the window in front I could see the big Finn driver throwing his arms across his shoulders to promote circulation, in the same manner as does the London “cabby.”

When night drew on we changed horses again at a small, dirty post-house in the forest, at the edge of a lake, and then pushed forward again, although it was already long past the hour at which he had said we should arrive.

Time passed slowly in the darkness, for we had no light, and the horses seemed to find their way by instinct.  The rolling of the lumbering old vehicle after six hours had rendered me sleepy, I think, for I recollect closing my eyes and conjuring up that strange scene on board the Lola.

Indeed, I suppose I must have slept, for I was awakened by a light shining into my face and the driver shaking me by the shoulder.  When I roused myself and, naturally, inquired the reason, he placed his finger mysteriously upon my lips, saying: 

“Hush, your high nobility, hush!  Come with me.  But make no noise.  If we are discovered, it means death for us—­death.  Come, give me your hand.  Slowly.  Tread softly.  See, here is the boat.  I will get in first.  We shall not be heard upon the water.  So.”

And the fellow led me, half-dazed, down to the bank of a broad, dark river which I could just distinguish—­he led me to an unknown bourne.

CHAPTER XI

THE CASTLE OF THE TERROR

The big Finn had, I found, tied up his horses, and in the heavy old boat he rowed me down the swollen river which ran swift and turbulent around a sudden bend and then seemed to open out to a great width.  In the starlight I could distinguish that it stretched gray and level to a distance, and that the opposite bank was fringed with pines.

“Where are we going?” I asked my guide in a low voice.  But he only whispered: 

“Hush!  Excellency!  Remain patient, and you shall see the young Englishwoman.”

So I sat in the boat, while he allowed it to drift with the current, steering it with the great heavy oars.  The river suddenly narrowed again, with high pines on either bank, a silent, lonesome reach, perhaps indeed one of the loneliest spots in all Europe.  Once the dismal howl of a wolf sounded close to where we passed, but my guide made no remark.

After nearly a mile, the stream again opened out into a broad lake where, in the distance, I saw rising sheer and high from the water, a long square building of three stories, with a tall round tower at one corner—­an old medieval castle it seemed to be.  From one of the small windows of the tower, as we came into view of it, a light was shining upon the water, and my guide seeing it, grunted in satisfaction.  It had undoubtedly been placed there as signal.