SIR FELIX On a bright May morning, the sunlight, at five o'clock, was pouring into a room which face the east at the ancestral home of the Aquilas.

In this room Felix, the eldest of the three sons of the Baron, was sleeping.

The beams passed over his head, and lit up a square space on the opposite whitewashed wall, where, in the midst of the brilliant light, hung an ivory cross.

There were only two panes of glass in the window, each no more than two or three inches square, the rest of the window being closed by strong oaken shutters, thick enough to withstand the stroke of an arrow.
In the daytime one of these at least would have been thrown open to admit air and light.

They did not quite meet, and a streak of sunshine, in addition to that which came through the tiny panes, entered at the chink.