'If you know where you are, and what its name may be, for your own sake I pray you forget it when you leave these doors.' I made no answer, but looked round the dim and dewy garden.
Here it was doubtless that de Garcia had met that unfortunate who must die this night.

A walk of a hundred paces brought us to another door in the wall of a long low building of Moorish style.

Here the knocking and the questioning were repeated at more length.

Then the door was opened, and I found myself in a passage, ill lighted, long and narrow, in the depths of which I could see the figures of nuns flitting to and fro like bats in a tomb.

The abbess walked down the passage till she came to a door on the right which she opened.