There was a stifled sound behind the grating; and Ralph caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes looking at him.  Then the square grew dark again.  It was a minute or two before anything further happened, and Ralph as he sat cold and hungry on his horse, began to grow impatient.  His hand was on the twisted iron handle to ring again fiercely, when there was a step within, and a light once more shone out.

“Who is it?” said an old woman’s voice, with a note of anxiety in it.

“I have sent word in,” said Ralph peevishly, “that I am one of the King’s Visitors.  I should be obliged if I might not be kept here all night.”

There was a moment’s silence; the horse sighed sonorously.

“How am I to know, sir?” said the voice again.

“Because I tell you so,” snapped Ralph.  “And if more is wanted, my name is Torridon.  You have a sister of mine in there.”

There was an exclamation from within; and the sound of whispering; and then hasty footsteps went softly across the paved court inside.

The voice spoke again.

“I ask your pardon, sir; but have you any paper—­or—­”

Ralph snatched out a document of identification, and leaned forward from his horse to pass it through the opening.  He felt trembling fingers take it from him; and a moment later heard returning footsteps.

There was a rustle of paper, and then a whisper within.

“Well, my dear?”

Something shifted in the bright square, and it grew gloomy as a face pressed up against the bars.  Then again it shifted and the light shone out, and a flutter of whispers followed.

“Really, madam—­” began Ralph; but there was the jingle of keys, and the sound of panting, and almost immediately a bolt shot back, followed by the noise of a key turning.  A chorus of whispers broke out and a scurry of footsteps, and then the door opened inwards and a little old woman stood there in a black habit, her face swathed in white above and below.  The others had vanished.

“I am very sorry, Mr. Torridon, to have kept you at the door; but we have to be very careful.  Will you bring your horse in, sir?”

Ralph was a little abashed by the sudden development of the situation, and explained that he had only come to announce his arrival; he had supposed that there would not be room at the nunnery.

“But we have a little guest-house here,” announced the old lady with a dignified air, “and room for your horse.”

Ralph hesitated; but he was tired and hungry.

“Come in, Mr. Torridon.  You had better dismount and lead your horse in.  Sister Anne will see to it.”

“Well, if you are sure—­” began Ralph again, slipping a foot out of the stirrup.

“I am sure,” said the Abbess; and stood aside for him and his beast to pass.

There was a little court, lighted by a single lamp burning within a window, with the nunnery itself on one side, and a small cottage on the other.  Beyond the latter rose the roofs of an outhouse.