George followed dauntlessly on, determined to do it or die in the attempt; and if he had ever heard of the Flying Dutchman, would undoubtedly have come to the conclusion that he was just then following his track on dry land.

But, unlike the hapless Vanderdecken, Sir Norman came to a halt at last, and that so suddenly that his horse stood on his beam ends, and flourished his two fore limbs in the atmosphere.

It was before La Masque's door; and Sir Norman was out of the saddle in a flash, and knocking like a postman with the handle of his whip on the door.

The thundering reveille rang through the house, making it shake to its centre, and hurriedly brought to the door, the anatomy who acted as guardian-angel of the establishment.
"La Masque is not at home, and I cannot admit you," was his sharp salute.
"Then I shall just take the trouble of admitting myself," said Sir Norman, shortly.
And without further ceremony, he pushed aside the skeleton and entered.
But that outraged servitor sprang in his path, indignant and amazed.
"No, sir; I cannot permit it.

I do not know you; and it is against all orders to admit strangers in La Masque's absence." "Bah! you old simpleton!" remarked Sir Norman, losing his customary respect for old age in his impatience, "I have La Masque's order for what I am about to do.