Bleak darkness was blacking out the sea and jungle when Rainsford sighted the lights.
He came upon them as he turned a crook in the coast line; and his first thought was that be had come upon a village, for there were many lights.
But as he forged along he saw to his great astonishment that all the lights were in one enormous building-a lofty structure with pointed towers plunging upward into the gloom.
His eyes made out the shadowy outlines of a palatial chateau; it was set on a high bluff, and on three sides of it cliffs dived down to where the sea licked greedy lips in the shadows.
"Mirage," thought Rainsford. But it was no mirage, he found, when he opened the tall spiked iron gate. The stone steps were real enough; the massive door with a leering gargoyle for a knocker was real enough; yet above it all hung an air of unreality.
He lifted the knocker, and it creaked up stiffly, as if it had never before been used.
He let it fall, and it startled him with its booming loudness.
He thought he heard steps within; the door remained closed.
Again Rainsford lifted the heavy knocker, and let it fall.
The door opened then-opened as suddenly as if it were on a spring-and Rainsford stood blinking in the river of glaring gold light that poured out.