SIMON 
 J. STOKER CLOUSTON
 
 SIMON 
 
 BY 
 
 J. STOKER CLOUSTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE MAN FROM THE CLOUDS," "THE SPY 
 IN BLACK," "THE LUNATIC AT LARGE." ETC 
 
 NEW HiPjy YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1919. 
 BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. The Solitary Passenger 9 
 
 II. The Procurator Fiscal 16 
 
 III. The Heir 23 
 
 IV. The Man from the West 31 
 
 V. The Third Visitor 40 
 
 VI. At Night 48 
 
 VII. The Drive Home 56 
 
 VIII. Sir Reginald 67 
 
 IX. A Philosopher 74 
 
 X. The Letter 80 
 
 XI. News 89 
 
 XII. Cicely 100 
 
 XIII. The Deductive Process 106 
 
 XIV. The Question of Motive 114 
 
 XV. Two Women 123 
 
 XVI. Rumour 128 
 
 XVII. A Suggestion 135 
 
 XVIII. 1200 143 
 
 XIX. The Empty Compartment .... 148 
 
 XX. The Sporting Visitor 154 
 
 XXI. Mr. Camngton's Walk 161 
 
 XXII. Mr. Carrington and the Fiscal ... 168 
 
 XXIII. Simon's Views 176 
 
 XXIV. Mr. Bisset's Assistant 185 
 
 V 
 
 2134867
 
 vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAOF 
 
 XXV. A Telegram 196 
 
 XXVI. At Stanesland 201 
 
 XXVII. Flight 209 
 
 XXVIII. The Return 216 
 
 XXIX. Brother and Sister 224 
 
 XXX. A Marked Man 229 
 
 XXXI. The Letter Again . . . . . .240 
 
 XXXII. The Sympathetic Stranger ... 247 
 
 XXXIII. The House of Mysteries .... 253 
 
 XXXIV. A Confidential Conversation ... 261 
 XXXV. In the Garden 2T1 
 
 XXXVI. The Walking Stick 278 
 
 XXXVII. Bisset's Advice 285 
 
 XXXVIH. Trapped 291 
 
 XXXIX. The Yarn 301 
 
 XL. The Last Chapter 312
 
 SIMON
 
 SIMON 
 
 THE SOLITARY PASSENGER 
 
 THE train had come a long journey and the 
 afternoon was wearing on. The passenger in 
 the last third class compartment but one, looking 
 out of the window sombrely and intently, saw 
 nothing now but desolate brown hills and a wind- 
 ing lonely river, very northern looking under the 
 autumnal sky. 
 
 He was alone in the carriage, and if any one 
 had happened to study his movements during the 
 interminable journey, they would have concluded 
 that for some reason he seemed to have a singu- 
 larly strong inclination for solitude. In fact this 
 was at least the third compartment he had occu- 
 pied, for whenever a fellow traveller entered, he 
 unostentatiously descended, and in a moment had 
 slipped, also unostentatiously, into an empty 
 carriage. Finally he had selected one at the 
 extreme end of the train, a judicious choice which 
 had ensured privacy for the last couple of hours. 
 
 When the train at length paused in the midst 
 of the moorlands and for some obscure reason
 
 10 SIMON 
 
 this spot was selected for the examination of 
 tickets, another feature of this traveller's char- 
 acter became apparent. He had no ticket, he 
 confessed, but named the last station as his place 
 of departure and the next as his destination. 
 Being an entirely respectable looking person, his 
 statement was accepted and he slipped the change 
 for half a crown into his pocket; just as he had 
 done a number of times previously in the course 
 of his journey. Evidently the passenger was of 
 an economical as well as of a secretive disposition. 
 
 As the light began to fade and the grey sky to 
 change into a deeper grey, and the lighted train 
 to glitter through the darkening moors, and he 
 could see by his watch that their distant goal was 
 now within an hour's journey, the man showed 
 for the first time signs of a livelier interest. He 
 peered out keenly into the dusk as though recog- 
 nising old landmarks, and now and then he 
 shifted in his seat restlessly and a little nervously. 
 
 He was a man of middle age or upwards, of 
 middle height, and thickset. Round his neck he 
 wore a muffler, so drawn up as partially to con- 
 ceal the lower part of his face, and a black felt 
 hat was drawn down over his eyes. Between them 
 could be seen only the gleam of his eyes, the tip 
 of his nose, and the stiff hairs of a grizzled 
 moustache. 
 
 Out of his overcoat pocket he pulled a pipe and 
 for a moment looked at it doubtfully, and then, 
 as if the temptation were irresistible, he took out 
 a tobacco pouch too. It was almost flat and he
 
 THE SOLITARY PASSENGER 11 
 
 jealously picked up a shred that fell on the floor, 
 and checked himself at last when the bowl was 
 half filled. And then for a while he smoked 
 very slowly, savouring each whiff. 
 
 When they stopped at the last station or two, 
 the reserved and exclusive disposition of this 
 traveller became still more apparent. Not only 
 was he so muffled up as to make recognition by 
 an unwelcome acquaintance exceedingly difficult, 
 but so long as they paused at the stations he sat 
 with his face resting on his hand, and when they 
 moved on again, an air of some relief was appar- 
 ent. 
 
 But a still more remarkable instance of this 
 sensitive passion for privacy appeared when the 
 train stopped at the ticket platform just outside 
 its final destination. Even as they were slowing 
 down, he fell on his knees and then stretched 
 himself at full length on the floor, and when the 
 door was flung open for an instant, the com- 
 partment was to all appearances empty. Only 
 when they were well under way again did this 
 retiring traveller emerge from beneath the seat. 
 
 And when he did emerge, his conduct con- 
 tinued to be of a piece with this curious perform- 
 ance. He glanced out of the window for an 
 instant at the lights of the platform ahead, and 
 the groups under them, and the arch of the sta- 
 tion roof against the night sky, and then swiftly 
 stepped across the carriage and gently opened 
 the door on the wrong side. By the time the 
 train was fairly at rest, the door had been as
 
 12 SIMON 
 
 quietly closed again and the man was picking 
 his way over the sleepers in the darkness, past 
 the guard's van and away from the station and 
 publicity. Certainly he had succeeded in achiev- 
 ing a singularly economical and private journey. 
 
 For a few minutes he continued to walk back 
 along the line, and then after a wary look all 
 round him, he sprang up the low bank at the 
 side, threw his leg over a wire fence, and with 
 infinite care began to make his way across a 
 stubble field. As he approached the wall on the 
 further side of the field his precautions increased. 
 He listened intently, crouched down once or 
 twice, and when at last he reached the wall, he 
 peered over it very carefully before he mounted 
 and dropped on the other side. 
 
 "Well," he murmured, "I'm here, by God, at 
 lastl" 
 
 He was standing now in a road on the out- 
 skirts of the town. On the one hand it led into 
 a dim expanse of darkened country ; on the other 
 the Ifghts of the town twinkled. Across the 
 road, a few villas stood back amidst trees, with 
 gates opening on to a footpath, the outlying 
 houses of the town ; and the first lamp-post stood 
 a little way down this path. The man crossed 
 the road and turned townwards, walking slowly 
 and apparently at his ease. What seemed to 
 interest him now was not his own need for privacy 
 but the houses and gates he was passing. At one 
 open gate in particular he half paused and then 
 seemed to spy something ahead that altered his
 
 THE SOLITARY PASSENGER 13 
 
 plans. Under a lamp-post a figure appeared to 
 be lingering, and at the sight of this, the man 
 drew his hat still more closely over his face and 
 moved on. 
 
 As he drew near the lamp the forms of two 
 youths became manifest, apparently loitering 
 there idly. The man kept his eyes on the ground, 
 passed them at a brisk walk and went on his 
 way into the town. 
 
 "Damn them!" he muttered. 
 
 This incident seemed to have deranged his 
 plans a little for his movements during the next 
 half hour were so purposeless as to suggest that 
 he was merely putting in time. Down one street 
 and up another he walked, increasing his pace 
 when he had to pass any fellow walkers, and then 
 again falling slow at certain corners and looking 
 round him curiously as though those dark lanes 
 and half -lit streets were reminiscent. 
 
 Even seen in the light of the infrequent lamps 
 and the rays from thinly blinded windows, it 
 was evidently but a small country town of a 
 hard, grey stone, northern type. The ends of 
 certain lanes seemed to open into the empty 
 country itself, and one could hear the regular 
 cadence of waves hard by upon a shore. 
 
 "It doesn't seem to have changed much," said 
 the man to himself. 
 
 He worked his way round, like one quite famil- 
 iar with the route he followed, till at length he 
 drew near the same quiet country road whence 
 he had started. This time he stopped for a few
 
 14 SIMON 
 
 minutes in the thickest shadow and scanned each 
 dim circle of radiance ahead. Nobody seemed 
 now to be within the rays of the lamps or to be 
 moving in the darkness between. He went on 
 warily till he had come nearly to the same open 
 gate where he had paused before, and then there 
 fell upon his ears the sound of steps behind him 
 and he stopped again and looked sharply over 
 his shoulder. 
 
 Somebody was following, but at a little dis- 
 tance off, and after hesitating for an instant, he 
 seemed to make up his mind to risk it, and turned 
 swiftly and stealthily through the gates. A short 
 drive of some pretentious ran between trees and 
 then curved round towards the house, but there 
 was no lodge or any sign of a possible watcher, 
 and the man advanced for a few yards swiftly 
 and confidently enough. And then he stopped 
 abruptly. Under the shade of the trees the drive 
 ahead was pitch dark, but footsteps and voices 
 were certainly coming from the house. In an 
 instant he had vanished into the belt of plantation 
 along one side of the drive. 
 
 The footsteps and voices ceased, and then the 
 steps began again, timidly at first and then hur- 
 riedly. The belt of shrubs and trees was just 
 thick enough to hide a man perfectly on a moon- 
 less cloudy night like this. Yet on either side the 
 watcher could see enough of what was beyond to 
 note that he stood between the dark drive on one 
 hand and a lighter space of open garden on the 
 other, and he could even catch a glimpse of the
 
 THE SOLITARY PASSENGER 15 
 
 house against the sky. Light shone brightly from 
 the fanlight over the front door, and less dis- 
 tinctly from one window upstairs and through 
 the slats of a blind in a downstairs room. For 
 a moment he looked in that direction and then 
 intently watched the drive. 
 
 The footsteps by this time were almost on the 
 run. The vague forms of two women passed 
 swiftly and he could see their faces dimly turned 
 towards him as they hurried by. They passed 
 through the gates and were gone, and then a 
 minute later men's voices in the road cried out 
 a greeting. And after that the silence fell pro- 
 found.
 
 II 
 
 THE PROCURATOR FISCAL 
 
 THE procurator fiscal breakfasted at 8.30, 
 punctually, and at 8.30 as usual he entered his 
 severely upholstered dining-room and shut the 
 door behind him. The windows looked into a 
 spacious garden with a belt of trees leading up to 
 the house from the gate, and this morning Mr. 
 Rattar, who was a machine for habit, departed in 
 one trifling particular from his invariable routine. 
 Instead of sitting straight down to the business 
 of breakfasting, he stood for a minute or tw9 
 at the window gazing into the garden, and then 
 he came to the table very thoughtfully. 
 
 ~No man in that northern county was better 
 known or more widely respected than Mr. Simon 
 Rattar. In person, he was a thickset man of 
 middle height and elderly middle age, with cold 
 steady eyes and grizzled hair. His clean shaved 
 face was chiefly remarkable for the hardness of 
 his tight-shut mouth, and the obstinacy of the 
 chin beneath it. Professionally, he was lawyer 
 to several of the larger landowners and factor 
 on their estates, and lawyer and adviser also to 
 many other people in various stations in life. 
 Officially, he was procurator fiscal for the county, 
 
 16
 
 THE PROCURATOR FISCAL 17 
 
 ae setter in motion of all criminal processes, and 
 generalissimo, so to speak, of the police; and 
 one way and another, he had the reputation of 
 being a very comfortably well off gentleman 
 indeed. 
 
 As for his abilities, they were undeniably con- 
 siderable, of the hard, cautious, never-caught- 
 asleep order ; and his taciturn manner and way of 
 drinking in everything said to him while he looked 
 at you out of his steady eyes, and then merely 
 nodded and gave a significant little grunt at the 
 end, added immensely to his reputation for pro- 
 found wisdom. People were able to quote few 
 definite opinions uttered by "Silent Simon," but 
 any that could be quoted were shrewdness itself. 
 
 He was a bachelor, and indeed, it was difficult 
 for the most fanciful to imagine Silent Simon 
 married. Even in his youth he had not been 
 attracted by the other sex, and his own qualities 
 certainly did not attract them. Not that there 
 was a word to be said seriously against him. 
 Hard and shrewd though he was, his respecta- 
 bility was' extreme and his observance of the con- 
 ventions scrupulous to a fault. He was an elder 
 of the Kirk, a non-smoker, an abstemious drinker 
 (to be an out and out teetotaler would have been 
 a little too remarkable in those regions for a man 
 of Mr. Rattar's conventional tastes), and indeed 
 in all respects he trod that sober path that leads 
 to a semi-public funeral and a vast block of gran- 
 ite in the parish kirkyard. 
 
 He had acquired his substantial villa and large
 
 18 SIMON 
 
 garden by a very shrewd bargain a number of 
 years ago, and he lived there with just the decency 
 that his condition in life enjoined, but with not a 
 suspicion of display beyond it. He kept a staff 
 of two competent and respectable girls, just 
 enough to run a house of that size, but only just; 
 and when he wanted to drive abroad he hired a 
 conveyance exactly suitable to the occasion from 
 the most respectable hotel. His life, in short, 
 was ordered to the very best advantage possible. 
 
 Enthusiastic devotion to such an extremely 
 exemplary gentleman was a little difficult, but in 
 his present housemaid, Mary MacLean, he had 
 a girl with a strong Highland strain of fidelity to 
 a master, and an instinctive devotion to his in- 
 terests, even if his person was hardly the chief- 
 tain her heart demanded. She was a soft voiced, 
 anxious looking young woman, almost pretty 
 despite her nervous high strung air, and of a 
 quiet and modest demeanour. 
 
 Soon after her master had begun breakfast, 
 Mary entered the dining-room with an apolo- 
 getic air, but a conscientious eye. 
 
 "Begging your pardon, sir," she began, "but 
 I thought I ought to tell you that when cook 
 and me was going out to the concert last night 
 we thought we saw something in the drive." 
 
 Mr. Rattar looked up at her sharply and fixed 
 his cold eyes on her steadily for a moment, never 
 saying a word. It was exactly his ordinary habit, 
 and she had thought she was used to it by now, 
 yet this morning she felt oddly disconcerted.
 
 THE PROCURATOR FISCAL 19 
 
 Then it struck her that perhaps it was the red 
 cut on his chin that gave her this curious feeling. 
 Silent Simon's hand was as steady as a rock and 
 she never remembered his having cut himself 
 shaving before ; certainly not as badly as this. 
 
 "Saw 'something'?" he repeated gruffly. "What 
 do you mean?" 
 
 "It looked like a man, sir, and it seemed to 
 move into the trees almost as quick as we saw it!" 
 
 "Tuts!" muttered Simon. 
 
 "But there was two friends of ours meeting us 
 in the road," she hurried on, "and they thought 
 they saw a man going in at the gate!" 
 
 Her master seemed a little more impressed. 
 
 "Indeed?" said he. 
 
 "So I thought it was my duty to tell you, sir." 
 
 "Quite right," said he. 
 
 "For I felt sure it couldn't just be a gentle- 
 man coming to see you, sir, or he wouldn't have 
 gone into the trees." 
 
 "Of course not," he agreed briefly. "Nobody 
 came to see me." 
 
 Mary looked at him doubtfully and hesitated 
 for a moment. 
 
 "Didn't you even hear anything, sir?" she 
 asked in a lowered voice. 
 
 Her master's quick glance made her jump. 
 
 "Why?" he demanded. 
 
 "Because, sir, I found footsteps in the gravel 
 this morning where it's soft with the rain, sir, 
 just under the library window." 
 
 Mr. Rattar looked first hard at her and then
 
 20 SIMON 
 
 at his plate. For several seconds he answered 
 nothing, and then he said : 
 
 "I did hear some one." 
 
 There was something both in his voice and in 
 his eye as he said this that was not quite like the 
 usual Simon Rattar. Mary began to feel a sym- 
 pathetic thrill. 
 
 "Did you look out of the window, sir?" she 
 asked in a hushed voice. 
 
 Her master nodded and pursed his lips. 
 
 "But you didn't see him, sir?" 
 
 "No," said he. 
 
 "Who could it have been, sir?" 
 
 "I have been wondering," he said, and then he 
 threw a sudden glance at her that made her 
 hurry for the door. It was not that it was an 
 angry look, but that it was what she called so 
 "queer-like." 
 
 Just as she went out she noted another queer- 
 like circumstance. Mr. Rattar had stretched out 
 his hand towards the toast rack while he spoke. 
 The toast stuck between the bars, and she caught 
 a glimpse of an angry twitch that upset the rack 
 with a clatter. Never before had she seen the 
 master do a thing of that kind. 
 
 A little later the library bell called her. Mr. 
 Rattar had finished breakfast and was seated 
 beside the fire with a bundle of legal papers on a 
 small table beside him, just as he always sat, 
 absorbed in work, before he started for his office. 
 The master's library impressed Mary vastly. The 
 furniture was so substantial, new-looking, and
 
 THE PROCURATOR FISCAL 21 
 
 conspicuous for the shininess of the wood and 
 the brightness of the red morocco seats to the 
 chairs. And it was such a tidy room no litter 
 of papers or books, nothing ever out of place, no 
 sign even of pipe, tobacco jar, cigarette or cigar. 
 The only concession to the vices were the ornate 
 ash tray and the massive globular glass match 
 box on the square table in the middle of the room, 
 and they were manifestly placed there for the 
 benefit of visitors merely. Even they, Mary 
 thought, were admirable as ornaments, and she 
 was concerned to note that there was no nice 
 red-headed bundle of matches in the glass match 
 box this morning. What had become of them she 
 could not imagine, but she resolved to repair this 
 blemish as soon as the master had left the house. 
 
 "I don't want you to go gossiping about this 
 fellow who came into the garden, last night," he 
 began. 
 
 "Oh, no, sir!" said she. 
 
 Simon shot her a glance that seemed com- 
 pounded of doubt and warning. 
 
 "As procurator fiscal, it is my business to in- 
 quire into such affairs. I'll see to it." 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir; I know," said she. "It seemed 
 so impudent like of the man coming into the 
 fiscal's garden of all places!" 
 
 Simon grunted. It was his characteristic reply 
 when no words were absolutely necessary. 
 
 "That's all," said he, "don't gossip ! Remem- 
 ber, if we want to catch the man, the quieter we 
 keep the better."
 
 22 SIMON 
 
 Mary went out, impressed with the warning, 
 but still more deeply impressed with something 
 else. Gossip with cook of course was not to be 
 counted as gossip in the prohibited sense, and 
 when she returned to the kitchen, she unburdened 
 her Highland heart. 
 
 "The master's no himsel' !" she said. "I tell you, 
 Janet, never have I seen Mr. Rattar look the way 
 he looked at breakfast, nor yet the way he looked 
 in the library !" 
 
 Cook was a practical person and apt to be a 
 trifle unsympathetic. 
 
 "He couldna be bothered with your blethering 
 most likely !" said she. 
 
 "Oh, it wasna that!" said Mary rery seriously. 
 "Just think yoursel' how would you like to be 
 watched through the window at the dead of night 
 as you were sitting in your chair? The master's 
 feared of yon man, Janet!" 
 
 Even Janet was a little impressed by her 
 solemnity. 
 
 "It must have taken something to make silent 
 Simon feared!" said she. 
 
 Mary's voice fell. 
 
 "It's my opinion, the master knows more than 
 he let on to me. The thought that came into my 
 mind when he was talking to me was just 'The 
 man feels he's being watched? ' 
 
 "Oh, get along wi' you and your Hieland fan- 
 cies!" said cook, but she said it a little uncom- 
 fortably.
 
 Ill 
 
 THE HEIR 
 
 AT 9.45 precisely Mr. Ratter arrived at his 
 office, just as he had arrived every morning since 
 his clerks could remember. He nodded curtly as 
 usual to his head clerk, Mr. Ison, and went into 
 his room. His letters were always laid out on 
 his desk and from twenty minutes to half an hour 
 were generally spent by him in running through 
 them. Then he would ring for Mr. Ison and 
 begin to deal with the business of the day. But 
 on this morning the bell went within twelve min- 
 utes, as Mr. Ison (a most precise person) noted 
 on the clock. 
 
 "Bring the letter book," said Mr. Rattar. 
 "And the business ledger." 
 
 "Letter book and business ledger?" repeated 
 Mr. Ison, looking a little surprised. 
 
 Mr. Rattar nodded. 
 
 The head clerk turned away and then paused 
 and glanced at the bundle of papers Mr. Rattar 
 had brought back with him. He had expected 
 these to be dealt with first thing. 
 
 "About this Thomson business " he began. 
 
 "It can wait." 
 
 The lawyer's manner was peremptory and the 
 
 23
 
 clerk fetched the letter book and ledger. These 
 contained, between them, a record of all the 
 recent business of the firm, apart from public 
 business and the affairs of one large estate. What 
 could be the reason for such a comprehensive 
 examination, Mr. Ison could not divine, but Mr. 
 Rattar never gave reasons unless he chose, and 
 the clerk who would venture to ask him was not 
 to be found on the staff of Silent Simon. 
 
 In a minute or two the head clerk returned 
 with the books. This time he was wearing his 
 spectacles and his first glance through them at 
 Mr. Rattar gave him an odd sensation. The 
 lawyer's mouth was as hard set and his eyes were 
 as steady as ever. Yet something about his ex- 
 pression seemed a little unusual. Some unex- 
 pected business had turned up to disturb him, 
 Mr. Ison felt sure; and indeed, this seemed cer- 
 tain from his request for the letter book and 
 ledger. He now noticed also the cut on his chin, 
 a sure sign that something had interrupted the 
 orderly tenor of Simon Rattar's life, if ever there 
 was one. Mr. Ison tried to guess whose business 
 could have taken such a turn as to make Silent 
 Simon cut himself with his razor, but though he 
 had many virtues, imagination was not among 
 them and he had to confess that it was fairly 
 beyond James Ison. 
 
 And yet, curiously enough, his one remark to 
 a fellow clerk was not unlike the comment of the 
 imaginative Mary MacLean. 
 
 "The boss has a kin' of unusual look to-day.
 
 THE HEIR 25 
 
 There was something kin' of suspicious in that 
 eye of his rather as though he thought someone 
 was watching him." 
 
 Mr. Rattar had been busy with the books for 
 some twenty minutes when his head clerk re- 
 turned. 
 
 "Mr. Malcolm Cromarty to see you, sir," he 
 said. 
 
 Silent Simon looked at him hard, and it was 
 evident to his clerk that his mind had been ex- 
 traordinarily absorbed, for he simply repeated in 
 a curious way : 
 
 "Mr. Malcolm Cromarty?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Mr. Ison, and then as even 
 this seemed scarcely to be comprehended, he 
 added, "Sir Reginald's cousin." 
 
 "Ah, of course!" said Mr. Rattar. "Well, show 
 him in." 
 
 The young man who entered was evidently con- 
 scious of being a superior person. From the 
 waviness of his hair and the studied negligence 
 of his tie (heliotrope with a design in old gold), 
 it seemed probable that he had literary or artistic 
 claims to be superior to the herd. And from the 
 deference with which Mr. Ison had pronounced 
 his name and his own slightly condescending man- 
 ner, it appeared that he felt himself in other re- 
 spects superior to Mr. Rattar. He was of me- 
 dium height, slender, and dark-haired. His fea- 
 tures were remarkably regular, and though his 
 face was somewhat small, there could be no doubt 
 that he was extremely good looking, especially
 
 6 SIMON 
 
 to a woman's eye, who would be more apt than 
 a fellow man to condone something a little super- 
 cilious in his smile. 
 
 The attire of Mr. Malcolm Cromarty was that 
 of the man of fashion dressed for the country, 
 with the single exception of the tie which in- 
 timated to the discerning that here was no young 
 man of fashion merely, but likewise a young man 
 of ideas. That he had written, or at least was 
 going to write, or else that he painted or was 
 about to paint, was quite manifest. The indica- 
 tions, however, were not sufficiently pronounced 
 to permit one to suspect him of fiddling, or even 
 of being about to fiddle. 
 
 This young gentleman's manner as he shook 
 hands with the lawyer and then took a chair was 
 on the surface cheerful and politely condescend- 
 ing. Yet after his first greeting, and when he 
 was seated under Simon's inscrutable eye, there 
 stole into his own a hint of quite another emo- 
 tion. If ever an eye revealed apprehension it 
 was Malcolm Cromarty's at that instant. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Rattar, here I am again, you see," 
 said he with a little laugh; but it was not quite 
 a spontaneous laugh. 
 
 "I see, Mr. Cromarty," said Simon laconically. 
 
 "You have been expecting to hear from me 
 before, I suppose," the young man went on, "but 
 the fact is I've had an idea for a story and I've 
 been devilish busy sketching it out." 
 
 Simon grunted and gave a little nod. One
 
 THE HEIR 27 
 
 would say that he was studying his visitor with 
 exceptional attention. 
 
 "Ideas come to one at the most inconvenient 
 times," the young author explained with a smile, 
 and yet with a certain hurried utterance not 
 usually associated with smiles, "one just has to 
 shoot the bird when he happens to come over 
 your head, don't you know, you can't send in 
 beaters after that kind of fowl, Mr. Rattar. And 
 when he does come out, there you are ! You have 
 to make hay while the sun shines." 
 
 Again the lawyer nodded, and again he made 
 no remark. The apprehension in his visitor's eye 
 increased, his smile died away, and suddenly he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "For God's sake, Mr. Rattar, say something! 
 I meant honestly to pay you back I felt sure I 
 could sell that last thing of mine before now, 
 but not a word yet from the editor I sent it to !" 
 
 Still there came only a guarded grunt from 
 Simon and the young man went on with increas- 
 ing agitation. 
 
 "You won't give me away to Sir Reginald, 
 will you? He's been damned crusty with me 
 lately about money matters, as it is. If you 
 
 make me desperate !" He broke off and 
 
 gazed dramatically into space for a moment, and 
 then less dramatically at his lawyer. 
 
 Silent Simon was proverbially cautious, but 
 it seemed to his visitor that his demeanour this 
 morning exceeded all reasonable limits. For
 
 28 SIMON 
 
 nearly a minute he answered absolutely nothing, 
 and then he said very slowly and deliberately: 
 
 "I think it would be better, Mr. Cromarty, if 
 you gave me a brief, explicit statement of how 
 you got into this mess." 
 
 "Dash it, you know too well " began Crom- 
 arty. 
 
 "It would make you realise your own position 
 more clearly," interrupted the lawyer. "You 
 want me to assist you, I take it?" 
 
 "Rather if you will!" 
 
 "Well then, please do as I ask you. You had 
 better start at the beginning of your relations 
 with Sir Reginald." 
 
 Malcolm Cromarty's face expressed surprise, 
 but the lawyer's was distinctly less severe, and 
 he began readily enough: 
 
 "Well, of course, as you know, my cousin 
 Charles Cromarty died about 18 months ago and 
 I became the heir to the baronetcy " he broke 
 off and asked, "Do you mean you want we to go 
 over all that?" 
 
 Simon nodded, and he went on: 
 
 "Sir Reginald was devilish good at first 
 in his own patronising way, let me stay at Kel- 
 dale as often and as long as I liked, made me an 
 allowance and so on; but there was always this 
 fuss about my taking up something a little more 
 conventional than literature. Ha, ha!" The 
 young man laughed in a superior way and then 
 looked apprehensively at the other. "But I sup- 
 pose you agree with Sir Reginald?"
 
 THE HEIR 29 
 
 Simon pursed his lips and made a non-com- 
 mittal sound. 
 
 "Well, anyhow, he wanted me to be called to 
 the Bar or something of that kind, and then 
 there was a fuss about money his ideas of an 
 allowance are rather old fashioned, as you know. 
 And then you were good enough to help me with 
 that loan, and well, that's all, isn't it?" 
 
 Mr. Rattar had been listening with extreme 
 attention. He now nodded, and a smile for a 
 moment seemed to light his chilly eyes. 
 
 "I see that you quite realise your position, Mr. 
 Cromarty," he said. 
 
 "Realise it!" cried the young man. "My God, 
 I'm in a worse hole " he broke off abruptly. 
 
 "Worse than you have admitted to me?" said 
 Simon quickly and again with a smile in his eye. 
 
 Malcolm Cromarty hesitated, "Sir Reginald is 
 so damned narrow! If he wants to drive me to 
 the devil well, let him ! But I say, Mr. Rattar, 
 what are you going to do?" 
 
 For some moments Simon said nothing. At 
 length he answered: 
 
 "I shall not press for repayment at present." 
 
 His visitor rose with a sigh of relief and as he 
 said good-bye his condescending manner returned 
 as readily as it had gone. 
 
 "Good morning and many thanks," said he, 
 and then hesitated for an instant. "You couldn't 
 let me have a very small cheque, just to be going 
 on with, could you?" 
 
 "Not this morning, Mr. Cromarty."
 
 80 SIMON 
 
 Mr. Cromarty's look of despair returned. 
 
 "Well," he cried darkly as he strode to the 
 door, "people who treat a man in my position 
 like this are responsible for er !" The bang- 
 ing of the door left their precise responsibility 
 in doubt. 
 
 Simon Rattar gazed after him with an odd ex- 
 pression. It seemed to contain a considerable 
 infusion of complacency. And then he rang for 
 his clerk. 
 
 "Get me the Cromarty estate letter book," he 
 commanded. 
 
 The book was brought and this time he had 
 about ten minutes to himself before the clerk 
 entered again. 
 
 "Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland to see you, sir," 
 he announced. 
 
 This announcement seemed to set the lawyer 
 thinking hard. Then in his abrupt way he said : 
 
 "Show him in."
 
 THE MAN FROM THE WEST 
 
 MR. RATTAR'S second visitor was of a different 
 type. Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland stood about 
 6 feet two and had nothing artistic in his appear- 
 ance, being a lean strapping man in the neigh- 
 bourhood of forty, with a keen, thin, weather- 
 beaten face chiefly remarkable for its straight 
 sharp nose, compressed lips, reddish eye-brows, 
 puckered into a slight habitual frown, and the 
 fact that the keen look of the whole was expressed 
 by only one of his eyes, the other being a good 
 imitation but unmistakeably glass. The whole 
 effect of the face, however, was singularly pleas- 
 ing to the discerning critic. An out of door, reck- 
 less, humorous, honest personality was stamped 
 on every line of it and every movement of the 
 man. When he spoke his voice had a marked tinge 
 of the twang of the wild west that sounded a little 
 oddly on the lips of a country gentleman in these 
 northern parts. He wore an open flannel collar, 
 a shooting coat, well cut riding breeches and im- 
 maculate leather leggings, finished off by a most 
 substantial pair of shooting boots. Unlike Mr. 
 Malcolm Cromarty, he evidently looked upon his 
 visit as expected. 
 
 31
 
 32 SIMON 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Rattar," said he, throw- 
 ing his long form into the clients' chair as he 
 spoke. "Well, I guess you've got some good ad- 
 vice for me this morning." 
 
 Simon Rattar was proverbially cautious, but 
 to-day his caution struck his visitor as quite re- 
 markable. 
 
 "Um," he grunted. "Advice, Mr. Cromarty? 
 Umph!" 
 
 "Don't trouble beating about the bush," said 
 the tall man. "I've been figuring things out my- 
 self and so far as I can see, it comes to this: 
 that loan from Sir Reginald put me straight in 
 the meantime, but I've got to cut down expense 
 all round to keep straight, and I've got to pay 
 him back. Of course you know his way when it's 
 one of the clan he's dealing with. 'My dear Ned, 
 no hurry whatever. If you send my heir a 
 cheque some day after I'm gone it will have the 
 added charm of surprise!' Well, that's damned 
 decent, but hardly business. I want to get the 
 whole thing off my chest. Got the statement 
 made up ?" 
 
 Simon shook his head. 
 
 "Very sorry, Mr. Cromarty. Haven't had 
 time yet." 
 
 "Hell!" said Mr. Cromarty, though in a cheer- 
 ful voice, and then added with an engaging smile. 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Rattar. I'm trying to get edu- 
 cated out of strong language, but, Lord, at my 
 time of life it's not so damned I mean dashed 
 easy!"
 
 THE MAN FROM THE WEST 33 
 
 Even Simon Rattar's features relaxed for an 
 instant into a smile. 
 
 "And who is educating you?" he enquired. 
 
 Mr. Cromarty looked a little surprised. 
 
 "Who but the usual lady? Gad, I've told you 
 before of my sister's well meant efforts. It's a 
 stiff job making a retired cow puncher into a 
 high grade laird. However, I can smoke without 
 spitting now, which is a step on the road towards 
 being a Lord Chesterfield." 
 
 He smiled humorously, stretched out his long 
 legs and added: 
 
 "It's a nuisance, your not having that state- 
 ment ready. When I've got to do business I like 
 pushing it through quick. That's an American 
 habit I don't mean to get rid of, Mr. Rattar." 
 
 Mr. Rattar nodded his approval. 
 
 "Certainly not," said he. 
 
 "I've put down my car," his visitor continued. 
 
 "Drive a buggy now beg its pardon, a trap, 
 and a devilish nice little mare I've got in her 
 too. In fact, there are plenty of consolations 
 for whatever you have to do in this world. I'm 
 only sofry for my sister's sake that I have to 
 draw in my horns a bit. Women like a bit of 
 a splash at least judging from the comparative- 
 ly little I know of 'em." 
 
 "Miss Cromarty doesn't complain, I hope?" 
 
 "Oh, I think she's beginning to see the neces- 
 sity for reform. You see, when both my civilised 
 
 elder brothers died " he broke off, and then 
 
 added: "But you know the whole story."
 
 34 SIMON 
 
 "I would er like to refresh my memory," 
 said Simon; and there seemed to be a note of 
 interest and almost of eagerness in his voice that 
 appeared to surprise his visitor afresh. 
 
 "First time I ever heard of your memory need- 
 ing refreshing!" laughed his visitor. "Well, you 
 know how I came back from the wild and woolly 
 west and tried to make a comfortable home for 
 Lilian. We were neither of us likely to marry 
 at our time of life, and there were just the two 
 of us left, and we'd both of us knocked about 
 quite long enough on our own, and so why not 
 settle down together in the old place and be 
 comfortable? At least that's how it struck me. 
 Of course, as you know, we hadn't met for so 
 long that we were practically strangers and she 
 knew the ways of civilisation better than me, 
 and I gave her a pretty free hand in setting up 
 the establishment. I don't blame her, mind you, 
 for setting the pace a bit too fast to last. My 
 own blamed fault entirely. However, we aren't 
 in a very deep hole, thank the Lord. In fact if 
 I hadn't got to pay Sir Reginald back the .1,200 
 it would be all right, so far I can figure out. 
 But I want your exact statement, Mr. Rattar, 
 and as quick as you can let me have it." 
 
 Simon nodded and grunted. 
 
 "You'll get it." And then he added: "I think 
 I can assure you there is nothing to be concerned 
 about." 
 
 Ned Cromarty smiled and a reckless light 
 danced for a moment in his one efficient eye.
 
 THE MAN FROM THE WEST 35 
 
 "I guess I almost wish there were something 
 to be concerned about! Sir Reginald is always 
 telling me I'm the head of the oldest branch of 
 the whole Cromarty family and it's my duty to 
 live in the house of my ancestors and be an orna- 
 ment to the county, and all the rest of it. But 
 I tell you it's a damned quiet life for a man 
 who's had his eye put out with a broken whisky 
 bottle and hanged the man who did it with his 
 own hands!" 
 
 "Hanged him !" exclaimed the lawyer sharply. 
 
 "Oh, it wasn't merely for the eye. That gave 
 the performance a kind of relish it would other- 
 wise have lacked, being a cold-blooded ceremony 
 and a little awkward with the apparatus we had. 
 We hanged him for murder, as a matter of fact. 
 Now, between ourselves, Mr. Rattar, we don't 
 want to crab our own county, but you must 
 confess that real good serious crime is devilish 
 scarce here, eh?" 
 
 Cromarty's eye was gleaming humorously, 
 and Simon Rattar might have been thought the 
 kind of tough customer who would have been 
 amused by the joke. He seemed, however, to be 
 affected unpleasantly and even a little startled. 
 
 "I I trust we don't," he said. 
 
 "Well," his visitor agreed, "as it means that 
 something or somebody has got to be sacrificed 
 to start the sport of man-hunting, I suppose 
 there's something to be said for the quiet life. 
 But personally I'd sooner be after men than 
 grouse, from the point of view of getting thor-
 
 36 SIMON 
 
 ough satisfaction while it lasts. My sister says 
 it means I haven't settled down properly yet 
 calls me the bold bad bachelor!" 
 
 Through this speech Simon seemed to be look- 
 ing at his visitor with an attention that bordered 
 on fascination, and it was apparently with a 
 slight effort that he asked at the end: 
 
 "Well, why don't you marry?" 
 
 "Marry!" exclaimed Ned Cromarty. "And 
 where will you find the lady that's to succumb to 
 my fascinations? I'm within a month of forty, 
 Mr. Rattar, I've the mind, habits, and appear- 
 ance of a backwoodsman, and I've one working 
 eye left. A female collector of antique curiosi- 
 ties, or something in the nature of a retired 
 wardress might take on the job, but I can't think 
 of any one else!" 
 
 He laughed as he spoke, and yet something 
 remarkably like a sigh followed the laugh, and 
 for a moment after he had ceased speaking his 
 eye looked abstractedly into space. 
 
 Before either spoke again, the door opened 
 and the clerk, seeing Mr. Rattar was still en- 
 gaged, murmured a "beg pardon" and was about 
 to retire again. 
 
 "What is it?" asked the lawyer. 
 
 "Miss Farmond is waiting to see you, sir." 
 
 "I'll let you know when I'm free," said Simon. 
 
 Had his eye been on his visitor as his clerk 
 spoke, he might have noticed a curious commen- 
 tary on Mr. Cromarty's professed lack of interest 
 in womankind. His single eye lit up for an
 
 THE MAN FROM THE WEST 37 
 
 instant and he moved sharply in his chair, and 
 then as suddenly repressed all sign of interest. 
 
 A minute or two later the visitor jumped up. 
 
 "Well," said he, "I guess you're pretty busy 
 and I've been talking too long as it is. Let me 
 have that statement as quick as you like. Good 
 morning!" 
 
 He strode to the door, shut it behind him, and 
 then when he was on the landing, his movements 
 became suddenly more leisurely. Instead of 
 striding downstairs he stood looking curiously 
 in turn at each closed door. It was an old 
 fashioned house and rather a rabbit warren of 
 an office, and it would seem as though for some 
 reason he wished to leave no door unwatched. 
 In a moment he heard the lawyer's bell ring and 
 very slowly he moved down a step or two while 
 a clerk answered the call and withdrew. And 
 then he took a cigar from his case, bit off the 
 end, and felt for matches; all this being very 
 deliberately done, and his eye following the clerk. 
 Thus when a girl emerged from the room along 
 a passage, she met, apparently quite accidentally, 
 Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland. 
 
 At the first glance it was quite evident that the 
 meeting gave more pleasure to the gentleman 
 than to the lady. Indeed, the girl seemed too 
 disconcerted to hide the fact. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Farmond," said he with 
 what seemed intended for an air of surprise; as 
 though he had no idea she had been within a mile 
 of him. "You coming to see Simon on business
 
 38 SIMON 
 
 too?" And then taking the cue from her con- 
 strained manner, he added hurriedly, and with 
 a note of dejection he could not quite hide, "Well, 
 good-bye." 
 
 The girl's expression suddenly changed, and 
 with that change the laird of Stanesland's curi- 
 ous movements became very explicable, for her 
 face was singularly charming when she smiled. 
 It was a rather pale but fresh and clear-skinned 
 face, wide at the forehead and narrowing to a 
 firm little chin, with long-lashed expressive eyes, 
 and a serious expression in repose. Her smile 
 was candid, a little coy and irresistibly engaging, 
 and her voice was very pleasant, rather low, and 
 most engaging too. She was of middle height 
 and dressed in mourning. Her age seemed rather 
 under than over twenty. 
 
 "Oh," she said, with a touch of hesitation at 
 
 first, "I didn't mean " She broke off, 
 
 glanced at the clerk, who being a discreet young 
 man was now in the background, and then with 
 lowered voice confessed, "The fact is, Mr. Cro- 
 marty, I'm not really supposed to be here at all. 
 That's to say nobody knows I am." 
 
 Mr. Cromarty looked infinitely relieved. 
 
 "And you don't want anybody to know?" he 
 said in his outspoken way. "Right you are. I 
 can lie low and say nothing, or lie hard and say 
 what you like; whichever you choose." 
 
 "Lying low will do," she smiled. "But please 
 don't think I'm doing anything very wrong." 
 
 "I'll think what you tell me," he said gallantly.
 
 THE MAN FROM THE WEST 89 
 
 "I was thinking Silent Simon was in luck's way 
 but perhaps you're going to wig him?" 
 
 She laughed and shook her head. 
 
 "Can you imagine me daring to wig Mr. Simon 
 Rattar?" 
 
 "I guess he needs waking up now and then 
 like other people. He's been slacking over my 
 business. In fact, I can't quite make him out 
 this morning. He's not quite his usual self for 
 some reason. Don't be afraid to wig him if he 
 needs it!" 
 
 The clerk in the background coughed and Miss 
 Cicely Farmond moved towards the door of the 
 lawyer's room, but Ned Cromarty seemed reluc- 
 tant to end the meeting so quickly. 
 
 "How did you come?" he asked. 
 
 "Walked," she smiled. 
 
 "Walked! And how are you going back?" 
 
 "Walk again." 
 
 "I say," he suggested eagerly, "I've got my 
 trap in. Let me drive you!" 
 
 She hesitated a moment. 
 
 "It's awfully good of you to think of it " 
 
 "That's settled then. I'll be on the look out 
 when you leave old Simon's den." 
 
 He raised his cap and went downstairs this 
 time without any hesitation. He had forgotten 
 to light his cigar, and it was probably as a 
 substitute for smoking that he found himself 
 whistling.
 
 THE THIRD VISITOR 
 
 Miss CICELY FARMOND'S air as she entered 
 Simon Rattar's room seemed compounded of a 
 little shyness, considerable trepidation, and yet 
 more determination. In her low voice and with 
 a fleeting smile she wished him good morning, like 
 an acquaintance with whom she was quite famil- 
 iar, and then with a serious little frown, and 
 fixing her engaging eyes very straight upon him, 
 she made the surprising demand : 
 
 "Mr. Rattar, I want you to tell me honestly 
 who I am." 
 
 For an instant Simon's cold eyes opened very 
 wide, and then he was gazing at her after his 
 usual silent and steadfast manner. 
 
 "Who you are?" he repeated after a few sec- 
 onds' pause. 
 
 "Yes. Indeed, Mr. Rattar, I insist on know- 
 ing!" 
 
 Simon smiled slightly. 
 
 "And what makes you think I can assist you 
 to er recover your identity, Miss Farmond?" 
 
 "To discover it, not recover it," she corrected. 
 
 "Don't you really know that I am honestly 
 quite ignorant?" 
 
 40
 
 THE THIRD VISITOR 41 
 
 Mr. Rattar shook his head cautiously. 
 
 "It is not for me to hazard an opinion," he 
 answered. 
 
 "Oh please, Mr. Rattar," she exclaimed, "don't 
 be so dreadfully cautious ! Surely you can't have 
 thought that I knew all the time!" 
 
 Again he was silent for a moment, and then 
 enquired : 
 
 "Why do you come to me now?" 
 
 "Because I must know! Because well, be- 
 cause it is so unsatisfactory not knowing for 
 various reasons." 
 
 "And why are you so positive that I can tell 
 you?" 
 
 "Because all my affairs and arrangements 
 went through your hands, and of course you 
 know!" 
 
 Again he seemed to reflect for a moment. 
 
 "May I ask, Miss Farmond," he enquired, 
 "why, in that case, you think I shouldn't have 
 told you before, and why also in that case I 
 should tell you now?" 
 
 This enquiry seemed to disconcert Miss Far- 
 mond a little. 
 
 "Oh, of course I presume Sir Reginald and 
 you had some reasons," she admitted. 
 
 "And don't you think then we have them still?" 
 
 "I can't honestly see why you should make such 
 a mystery of it especially as I can guess the 
 truth perfectly easily!" 
 
 "If you can guess it " he began.
 
 42 SIMON 
 
 "Oh please don't answer me like that! Why 
 won't you tell me?" 
 
 He seemed to consider the point for a moment, 
 and then he said: 
 
 "I am not at all sure that I am at liberty to 
 tell you, Miss Farmond, without further con- 
 sultation." 
 
 "Has Sir Reginald really any good reasons for 
 not telling me?" 
 
 "Have you asked him that question?" 
 
 "No," she confessed. "He and Lady Cro- 
 marty have been so frightfully kind, and yet so 
 so reserved on that subject, that I have never 
 liked to ask them direct. But they know that I 
 have guessed, and they haven't done anything to 
 prevent me finding out more for myself, which 
 means that they really are quite willing to let 
 me find out if I can." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "I am afraid I shall require more authority 
 than that." 
 
 She pursed her lips and looked at the floor 
 in silence, and then she rose. 
 
 "Well, if you absolutely refuse to tell me any- 
 thing, Mr. Rattar, I suppose " 
 
 A dejected little shrug completed her sentence, 
 and as she turned towards the door her eloquent 
 eyes looked at him for a moment beneath their 
 long lashes with an expression in them that might 
 have moved a statue. Although Simon Rattar 
 had the reputation of being impervious to 
 woman's wiles, he may have been moved by this
 
 THE THIRD VISITOR 43 
 
 unspoken appeal. He certainly seemed struck 
 by something, for even as her back was turning 
 towards him, he said suddenly, and in a distinctly 
 different voice: 
 
 "You say you can guess yourself?" 
 
 She nodded, and added with a pathetic coaxing 
 note in her low voice: 
 
 "But I want to know?' 
 
 "Supposing," he suggested, "you were to tell 
 me precisely how much you do know already, and 
 then I could judge whether the rest might or 
 might not be divulged." 
 
 Her face brightened and she returned to her 
 chair with a promptitude that suggested she was 
 riot unaccustomed to win a lost battle with these 
 weapons. 
 
 "Well," she said, "it was only six months ago 
 when mother died that I first had the least 
 suspicion there was any mystery about me any- 
 thing to hide. I knew she hadn't always been 
 happy and that her trouble had something to do 
 with my father, simply because she hardly ever 
 mentioned him. But she lived at Eastbourne 
 just like plenty of other widows and we had a 
 few friends, though never very many, and I was 
 rery happy at school, and so I never troubled 
 much about things." 
 
 "And knew nothing up till six months ago?" 
 asked Simon, who was following her story very 
 attentively. 
 
 "Nothing at all. Then, about a month after 
 mother's death, I got a note from you asking me
 
 44 SIMON 
 
 to go up to London and meet Sir Reginald Cro- 
 marty. I had never even heard of him before! 
 Well, I went and he was simply as kind as- 
 well, as he always is to everybody, and said he 
 was a kind of connection of my family and asked 
 me to pay them a long visit to Keldale." 
 
 "How long ago precisely was that?" 
 
 She looked a little surprised. 
 
 "Oh, you know exactly. Almost just four 
 months ago, wasn't it?" 
 
 He nodded, but said nothing, and she went on : 
 
 "From the very first it had seemed very strange 
 that I had never heard a word about the Cro- 
 martys from mother, and as soon as I got to 
 Keldale and met Lady Cromarty, I felt sure 
 there was something wrong. I mean that I 
 wasn't an ordinary distant relation. For one 
 
 w 
 
 thing they never spoke of our relationship and 
 exactly what sort of cousins we were, and con- 
 sidering how keen Sir Reginald is on his pedi- 
 gree and all his relations and everybody, that 
 alone made me certain I wasn't the ordinary 
 kind. That was obvious, wasn't it?" 
 
 "It seems so," the lawyer admitted cautiously. 
 
 "Of course it was ! Well, one day I happened 
 to be looking over an old photograph album and 
 suddenly I saw my father's photograph ! Mother 
 had a miniature of him I have it still, and I 
 was certain it was the same man. I pulled myself 
 together and asked Sir Reginald in a very ordi- 
 nary voice who that was, and I could see that 
 both he and Lady Cromarty jumped a little. He
 
 THE THIRD VISITOR 45 
 
 had to tell me it was his brother Alfred and I 
 discovered he had long been dead, but I didn't try 
 to get any more information from them. I ap- 
 plied to Bisset." 
 
 She gave a little laugh and looked at him with 
 a touch of defiance. His inscrutable countenance 
 appeared to annoy her. 
 
 "Well?" he remarked. 
 
 "Perhaps you think I oughtn't to have gone 
 to a butler about such a thing, but Bisset is prac- 
 tically one of the family and I didn't give him 
 the least idea of what I was after. I simply drew 
 him on the subject of the Cromarty family history 
 and among other things that didn't so much in- 
 terest me I found that Mr. Alfred Cromarty 
 was never married and seemed to have had rather 
 a gay reputation." 
 
 She looked at him with an expression that 
 would have immediately converted any suscepti- 
 ble man into a fellow conspirator, and asked in 
 her most enticing voice: 
 
 "Need you ask what I guessed? What is the 
 use in not telling me simply whether I have 
 guessed right!" 
 
 Silent Simon's face remained a mask. 
 
 "What precisely did you guess?" 
 
 "That my mother wasn't married," she said, 
 her voice falling very low, "and I am really Sir 
 Reginald's niece though he never can acknowl- 
 edge it and I don't want him to ! But I do want 
 to be sure. Dear Mr. Rattar, won't you tell 
 me?"
 
 46 SIMON 
 
 Dear Mr. Rattar never relaxed a muscle. 
 
 "Your guess seems very probable," he ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 "But tell me definitely." 
 
 "Why?" he enquired coldly. 
 
 "Oh, have you no curiosity yourself especially 
 about who your parents were; supposing you 
 didn't know?" 
 
 "Then it's only out of curiosity that you en- 
 quired?" 
 
 "Only!" she repeated with a world of woman's 
 scorn. "But what sort of motives did you expect ? 
 I have walked in the whole way this morning 
 just to end the suspense of wondering! Of 
 course, I'll never tell a soul you told me." 
 
 She threw on him a moving smile. 
 
 "You needn't actually tell me outright. Just 
 use some legal word 'Alibi' if I am right and 
 'forgery' if I'm wrong!" 
 
 Silent Simon's sudden glance chilled her smile. 
 She evidently felt she had been taking the law 
 in vain. 
 
 "I only meant " she began anxiously. 
 
 "I must consult Sir Reginald," he interrupted 
 brusquely. 
 
 She made no further effort. That glance 
 seemed to have subdued her spirit. 
 
 "I am sorry I have bothered you," she said 
 as she went. 
 
 As the door closed behind her, Mr. Rattar took 
 out his handkerchief and wiped his brow and his 
 neck. And then he fell to work again upon the
 
 THE THIRD VISITOR 47 
 
 recent records of the firm. Yet, absorbed though 
 he seemed, whenever a door opened or shut sharp- 
 ly or a step sounded distinctly outside his room, 
 he would look up quickly and listen, or that ex- 
 pression would come into his eye which both Mary 
 MacLean and Mr. Ison had described as the 
 look of one who was watched.
 
 VI 
 
 AT NIGHT 
 
 WHEN Simon Rattar came to his present villa, 
 he brought from his old house in the middle of the 
 town (which had been his father's before him) a 
 vast accumulation of old books and old papers. 
 Being a man who never threw away an oppor- 
 tunity or anything else, and also a person of the 
 utmost tidyness, he compromised by keeping this 
 litter in the spare rooms at the top of the house. 
 In fact Simon was rather pleased at discovering 
 this use for his superfluous apartments, for he 
 hated wasting anything. 
 
 On this same morning, just before he started 
 for his office, he had again called his housemaid 
 and given her particular injunctions that these 
 rooms were not to be disturbed during the day. 
 He added that this was essential because he ex- 
 pected a gentleman that evening who would be 
 going through some of the old papers with him. 
 
 Perhaps it was the vague feeling of disquiet 
 which possessed Mary MacLean this morning 
 that made his injunction seem a little curious. 
 She had been with the master three years and 
 never presumed or dreamt of presuming to touch 
 his papers. He might have known that, thought 
 
 48
 
 AT NIGHT 49 
 
 she, without having to tell her not to. Indeed, 
 she felt a little aggrieved at the command, and 
 in the course of the morning she made a discovery 
 that seemed to her a further reflection on her 
 discretion. 
 
 When she came to dust the passage in which 
 these rooms opened her eye was at once caught 
 by a sheet of white paper pinned to each of the 
 three doors. On each of these sheets was written 
 in her master's hand the words "This room not 
 to be entered. Papers to be undisturbed." The 
 result was a warning to those who take super- 
 fluous precautions. Under ordinary circum- 
 stances Mary would never have thought of touch- 
 ing the handles of those doors. Now, she looked 
 at them for a few moments and then tried the 
 handle nearest to her. The door w T as locked. 
 She tried the second and the third, and they stood 
 locked too. And the three keys had all been 
 removed. 
 
 "To think of the master locking the doors!" 
 said she to herself after failing at each in turn. 
 "As if I'd have tried to open them!" 
 
 That top storey was of the semi-attic kind, with 
 roofs that sloped and a sky-light in one of them 
 and the slates close overhead. It was a grey 
 windy morning, and as she stood there, alone in 
 that large house save for the cook far away in 
 the kitchen, with a loose slate rattling in the 
 gusts, and a glimpse of clouds driving over the 
 sky-light, she began all at once to feel uncom- 
 fortable. Those locked doors were uncanny
 
 50 SIMON 
 
 something was not as it should be; there was a 
 sinister moan in the wind ; the slate did not rattle 
 quite like an ordinary slate. Tales of her child- 
 hood, tales from the superstitious western islands, 
 rushed into her mind. And then, all at once, 
 she heard another sound. She heard it but for 
 one instant, and then with a pale face she fled 
 downstairs and stood for a space in the hall 
 trembling and wondering. 
 
 She wondered first whether the sound had 
 really come from behind the locked doors, and 
 whether it actually was some one stealthily mov- 
 ing. She wondered next whether she could bring 
 herself to confide in cook and stand Janet's 
 cheerful scorn. She ended by saying not a 
 word, and waiting to see what happened when 
 the master came home. 
 
 He returned as usual in time for a cup of tea. 
 It was pretty dark by then and Mary was up- 
 stairs lighting the gas (but she did not venture 
 up to the top floor) . She heard Mr. Rattar come 
 into the hall, and then, quite distinctly this time, 
 she heard overhead a dull sound, a kind of gentle 
 thud. The next moment she heard the master 
 running upstairs, and when he was safely past 
 she ran even more swiftly down and burst into 
 the kitchen. 
 
 "There's something in yon top rooms!" she 
 panted. 
 
 "There's something in your top storey!" 
 snapped cook; and poor Mary said no more. 
 
 When she brought his tea in to Mr. Rattar,
 
 AT NIGHT 51 
 
 she seemed to read in his first glance at her the 
 same expression that had disturbed her in the 
 morning, and yet the next moment he was speak- 
 ing in his ordinary grumpy, laconic way. 
 
 "Have you noticed rats in the Louse?'' lie 
 asked. 
 
 "Rats, sir!" she exclaimed. "Oh, no, sir, I 
 don't think there are any rats." 
 
 "I saw one just now," he said. "If we see it 
 again we must get some rat poison." 
 
 So it had only been a rat! Mary felt vastly 
 relieved ; and yet not altogether easy. One could 
 not venture to doubt the master, but it was a 
 queerlike sound for a rat to make. 
 
 Mr. Rattar had brought back a great many 
 papers to-day, and sat engrossed in them till 
 dinner. After dinner he fell to work again, and 
 then about nine o'clock he rang for her and said : 
 
 "The gentleman I expect this evening will 
 probably be late in coming. Don't sit up. I'll 
 hear him and let him in myself. We shall be 
 working late and I shall be going upstairs about 
 those papers. If you hear anybody moving about, 
 it will only be this gentleman and myself." 
 
 This was rather a long speech for silent Simon, 
 and Mary thought it considerate of him to explain 
 any nocturnal sounds beforehand ; unusually con- 
 siderate, in fact, for he seldom went out of his way 
 to explain things. And yet those few minutes in 
 his presence made her uncomfortable afresh. 
 She could not keep her eyes away from that 
 red cut on his chin. It made him seem odd-like,
 
 52 SIMON 
 
 she thought. And then as she passed through the 
 hall she heard faintly from the upper regions that 
 slate rattling again. At least it was either the 
 slate or she recalled a story of her childhood, 
 and hurried on to the kitchen. 
 
 She and the cook shared the same bed-room. 
 It was fairly large with two beds in it, and along 
 with the kitchen and other back premises it was 
 shut off from the front part of the house by a 
 door at the end of the hall. Cook was asleep 
 within ten minutes. Mary could hear her heavy 
 breathing above the incessant droning and whist- 
 ling of the wind, and she envied her with all her 
 Highland heart. In her own glen people would 
 have understood how she felt, but here she dared 
 not confess lest she were laughed at. It was 
 such a vague and nameless feeling, a sixth sense 
 warning her that all was not well; that something 
 was in the air. The longer she lay awake the 
 more certain she grew that evil was afoot; and 
 yet what could be its shape? Everything in that 
 quiet and respectable household was going on 
 exactly as usual; everything that any one else 
 would have considered material. The little things 
 she had noticed would be considered absurd trifles 
 by the sensible. She knew that as well as they. 
 
 She thought she had been in bed about an 
 hour, though the time passed so slowly that it 
 might have been less, when she heard, faintly 
 and gently, but quite distinctly, the door from 
 the hall into the back premises being opened. It 
 seemed to be held open for nearly a minute, as
 
 AT NIGHT 53 
 
 though some one were standing there listening. 
 She moved a little and the bed creaked ; and then, 
 as gently as it had been opened, the door was 
 closed again. 
 
 Had the intruder come through or gone away? 
 And could it only be the master, doing this curi- 
 ous thing, or was it some one or something 
 else? Dreadful minutes passed, but there was 
 not a sound of any one moving in the back 
 passage, or the kitchen, and then in the distance 
 she could hear the grating noise of the front door 
 being opened and the rush of wind that accom- 
 panied it. It was closed sharply in a moment 
 and she could catch the sound of steps in the 
 hall and the master's voice making some remark. 
 Another voice replied, gruff and muffled and 
 indistinct, and then again the master spoke. Evi- 
 dently the late caller had arrived, and a moment 
 later she heard the library door shut, and it was 
 plain that he and Mr. Rattar were closeted there. 
 
 They seemed to remain in the library about a 
 quarter of an hour before the door opened again, 
 and in a moment the stairs were creaking faintly. 
 Evidently one or both were going up for the old 
 papers. 
 
 All this was exactly what she had been led to 
 expect, and ought to have reassured her, yet, for 
 no reason at all, the conviction remained as in- 
 tense and disturbing as ever, that something 
 unspeakable was happening in this respectable 
 house. The minutes dragged by till quite half 
 an hour must have passed, and then she heard the
 
 54 SIMON 
 
 steps descending. They came down very slowly 
 this time, and very heavily. The obvious expla- 
 nation was that they were bringing down one 
 of those boxes filled with dusty papers which 
 she had often seen in the closed rooms ; yet though 
 Mary knew perfectly that this was the common 
 sense of the matter, a feeling of horror increased 
 till she could scarcely refrain from crying out. 
 If cook had not such a quick temper and such a 
 healthy contempt for this kind of fancy, she 
 would have rushed across to her bed; but as it 
 was, she simply lay and trembled. 
 
 The steps sounded still heavy but more muffled 
 on the hall carpet, though whether they were the 
 steps of one man or two she could not feel sure. 
 And then she heard the front door open again 
 and then close; so that it seemed plian that the 
 visitor had taken the box with him and gone 
 away. And with this departure came a sense of 
 relief, as devoid of rational foundation as the 
 sense of horror before. She felt at last that if 
 she could only hear the master going upstairs to 
 bed, she might go to sleep. 
 
 But though she listened hard as she lay there 
 in the oppressive dark, she heard not another 
 sound so long as she kept awake, and that was 
 for some time, she thought. She did get off at 
 last and had been asleep she knew not how long 
 when she awoke drowsily with a confused im-> 
 pression that the front door had been shut again. 
 How late it was she could but guess about three 
 or four in the morning her instinct told her. But
 
 AT NIGHT 55 
 
 then came sleep again and in the morning the 
 last part of her recollections was a little uncertain. 
 At breakfast the master was as silently formid- 
 able as ever and he never said a word about his 
 visitor. When Mary went to the top floor later 
 the papers were off the doors and the keys 
 replaced.
 
 VII 
 
 THE DRIVE HOME 
 
 UNDER the grey autumnal sky Miss Cicely 
 Farmond drove out of the town wrapped in Ned 
 Cromarty's overcoat. He assured her he never 
 felt cold, and as she glanced a little shyly up at 
 the strapping figure by her side, she said to her- 
 self that he certainly was the toughest looking 
 man of her acquaintance, and she felt a little less 
 contrition for the loan. She was an independent 
 young lady and from no one else would she have 
 accepted such a favour, but the laird of Stanes- 
 land had such an off-hand authoritative way with 
 him that, somewhat to her own surprise, she had 
 protested and submitted. 
 
 The trap was a high dog cart and the mare a 
 flier. 
 
 "What a splendid horse!" she exclaimed as 
 they spun up the first hill. 
 
 "Isn't she?" said Ned. "And she can go all 
 the way like this, too." 
 
 Cicely was therefore a little surprised when at 
 the next hill this flier was brought to a walk. 
 
 "I thought we were going all the way like 
 that!" she laughed. 
 
 56
 
 THE DRIVE HOME 57 
 
 Ned glanced down at her. 
 
 "Are you in a hurry?" he enquired. 
 
 "Not particularly," she admitted. 
 
 "No more am I," said he, and this time he 
 smiled down at her in a very friendly way. 
 
 So far they had talked casually on any indif- 
 ferent subject that came to hand, but now his 
 manner grew a little more intimate. 
 
 "Are you going to stay on with the Cromartys 
 long?" he asked. 
 
 "I am wondering myself," she confessed. 
 
 "I hope you will," he said bluntly. 
 
 "It is very kind of you to say so," she said 
 smiling at him a little shyly. 
 
 "I mean it. The fact is, Miss Farmond, you 
 are a bit of a treat." 
 
 The quaintness of the phrase was irresistible 
 and she laughed outright. 
 
 "Ami?" 
 
 "It's a fact," said he, "you see I live an odd 
 lonely kind of life here, and for most of my 
 career I've lived an odd lonely kind of life too, 
 so far as girls were concerned. It may sound 
 rum to you to hear a backwood hunks of my time 
 of life confessing to finding a girl of your age 
 a bit of a treat, but it's a fact." 
 
 "Yes," she said. "I should have thought I 
 must seem rather young and foolish." 
 
 "Lord, I don't mean that!" he exclaimed. "I 
 mean that I must seem a pretty uninteresting 
 bit of elderly shoe-leather."
 
 58 SIMON 
 
 "Uninteresting? Oh no!" she cried in protest, 
 and then checked herself and her colour rose a 
 little. 
 
 He smiled humorously. 
 
 "I can't see you out of this glass eye unless I 
 turn round, so whether you're pulling my leg 
 or not I don't know, but I was just saying to 
 old Simon that the only kind of lady likely to 
 take an interest in me was a female collector of 
 antique curiosities, and you don't seem that sort, 
 Miss Farmond." 
 
 She said nothing for a moment, and then asked : 
 
 "Were you discussing ladies then with Mr. 
 Rattar?" 
 
 He also paused for a moment before replying. 
 
 "Incidentally in the course of a gossip, as the 
 old chap hadn't got my business ready for me. 
 By the way, did you get much change out of 
 him?" 
 
 She shook her head a little mournfully. 
 
 "Nothing at all. He just asked questions 
 instead of answering them." 
 
 "So he did with me! Confound the man. I 
 fancy he has made too much money and is be- 
 ginning to take it easy. That's one advantage 
 of not being too rich, Miss Farmond; it keeps 
 you from waxing fat." 
 
 "I'm not likely to wax fat then!" she laughed, 
 and yet it was not quite a cheerful laugh. 
 
 He turned quickly and looked at her sympa- 
 thetically.
 
 THE DRIVE HOME 59 
 
 "That your trouble?" he enquired in his out- 
 spoken way. 
 
 Cicely was not by way of giving her confi- 
 dences easily, but this straight- forward, friendly 
 attack penetrated her reserve. 
 
 "It makes one so dependent," she said, her 
 voice even lower than usual. 
 
 "That must be the devil," he admitted. 
 
 "It is!" said she. 
 
 He whipped up the mare and ruminated in 
 silence. Then he remarked: 
 
 "I'm just wondering." 
 
 Cicely began to smile. 
 
 "Wondering what?" 
 
 "What the devil there can be that isn't utterly 
 uninteresting about me assuming you weren't 
 pulling my leg." 
 
 "Oh," she said, "no man can be uninteresting 
 who has seen as much and done as much as you 
 have." 
 
 "The Lord keep you of that opinion!" he said, 
 half humorously, but only half, it seemed. "It's 
 true I've knocked about and been knocked about, 
 but I'd have thought you'd have judged more by 
 results." 
 
 She laughed a little low laugh. 
 
 "Do you think yourself the results are very 
 bad?" 
 
 "Judging by the mirror, beastly ! Judging by 
 other standards well, one can't see one's self in 
 one's full naked horror, thank Heaven for it too ! 
 But I'm not well read, and I'm not but what's
 
 60 SIMON 
 
 the good in telling you? You're clever enough 
 to see for yourself." 
 
 For a man who had no intention of paying 
 compliments, Ned Cromarty had a singular gift 
 for administering the pleasantest because it 
 was so evidently the most genuine form of flat- 
 tery. In fact, had he but known it, he was a 
 universal favourite with women, whenever he 
 happened to meet them ; only he had not the least 
 suspicion of the fact which made him all the 
 more favoured. 
 
 "I don't know very many men," said Cicely, 
 with her serious expression and a conscientious 
 air, "and so perhaps I am not a good judge, but 
 certainly you seem to me quite unlike all the 
 others." 
 
 "I told you," he laughed, "that the female 
 would have to be a bit of a collector." 
 
 "Oh," she cried, quite serious still, "I don't 
 mean that in the least. I don't like freaks a bit 
 myself. I only mean well, people do differ in 
 character and experience, don't they?" 
 
 "I guess you're pretty wise," said he simply. 
 "And I'm sized up right enough. However, the 
 trouble at present is this blamed mare goes too 
 fast!" 
 
 On their left, the chimneys and roof of a large 
 mansion showed through the surrounding trees. 
 In this wind-swept seaboard country, its acres 
 of plantation were a conspicuous landmark and 
 marked it as the seat of some outstanding local 
 magnate. These trees were carried down to the
 
 THE DRIVE HOME 61 
 
 road in a narrow belt enclosing an avenue that 
 ended in a lodge and gates. At the same time 
 that the lodge came into view round a bend in 
 the road, a man on a bicycle appeared ahead of 
 them, going in the same direction, and bent over 
 his handle-bars against the wind. 
 
 "Hullo, that's surely Malcolm Cromarty !" said 
 Ned. 
 
 "So it is!" she exclaimed, and there was a note 
 of surprise in her voice. "I wonder where he has 
 been." 
 
 The cyclist dismounted at the lodge gates a few 
 moments before the trap pulled up there too, and 
 the young man turned and greeted them. Or 
 rather he greeted Miss Farmond, for his smile 
 was clearly aimed at her alone. 
 
 "Hullo! Where have you been?" he cried. 
 
 "Where have you?" she retorted as she jumped 
 out and let him help her off with the driving coat. 
 
 They made a remarkably good-looking young 
 couple standing together there on the road and 
 their manner to one another was evidently that of 
 two people who knew each other well. Sitting on 
 his high driving seat, Ned Cromarty turned his 
 head well round so as to bring his sound eye to 
 bear and looked at them in silence. When she 
 handed him his coat and thanked him afresh, he 
 merely laughed, told her, in his outspoken way, 
 that all the fun had been his, and whipped up 
 his mare. 
 
 "That's more the sort of fellow!" he said to 
 himself gloomily, and for a little the thought
 
 62 SIMON 
 
 seemed to keep him depressed. And then as lie 
 let the recollections of their drive have their own 
 way undisturbed, he began to smile again, and 
 kept smiling most of the way home. 
 
 The road drew ever nearer to the sea, trees 
 and hedgerows grew even rarer and more stunted, 
 and then he was driving through a patch of plant- 
 ing hardly higher than a shrubbery up to an an- 
 cient building on the very brink of the cliffs. 
 The sea crashed white below and stretched grey 
 and cold to the horizon, the wind whistled round 
 the battlements and sighed through the stunted 
 trees, and Ned (who had been too absorbed to 
 remember his coat) slapped his arms and stamped 
 his feet as he descended before a nail-studded 
 front door with a battered coat of arms above it. 
 
 "Lord, what a place!" he said to himself, half 
 critically, half affectionately. 
 
 The old castle of Stanesland was but a small 
 house as castles, or even mansions, go, almost 
 devoid of architectural ornament and evidently 
 
 
 
 built in a sterner age simply for security, and but 
 little embellished by the taste of more degenerate 
 times. As a specimen of a small early 15th Cen- 
 tury castle it was excellent; as a home it was 
 inconvenience incarnate. How so many draughts 
 found their way through such thick walls was a 
 perennial mystery, and how to convey dishes 
 from the kitchen to the dining room without their 
 getting cold an almost insoluble problem. 
 
 The laird and his sister sat down to lunch and 
 in about ten minutes Miss Cromarty remarked.
 
 THE DRIVE HOME 63 
 
 "So you drove Cicely Farmond home?" 
 
 Her brother nodded. He had mentioned the 
 fact as soon as he came in, and rather wondered 
 why she referred to it again. 
 
 Miss Cromarty smiled her own peculiar shrewd 
 worldly little smile, and said : 
 
 "You are very silent, Ned." 
 
 Lilian Cromarty was a few years older than 
 her brother; though one would hardly have 
 guessed it. Her trim figure, bright eyes, vivacity 
 of expression when she chose to be vivacious, and 
 quick movements might have belonged to a 
 woman twenty years younger. She had never 
 been pretty, but she was always perfectly dressed 
 and her smile could be anything she chose to 
 make it. Until her youngest brother came into 
 the property, the place had been let and she had 
 lived with her friends and relations. She had 
 had a good time, she always frankly confessed, 
 but as frankly admitted that it was a relief to 
 settle down at last. 
 
 "I was thinking," said her brother. 
 
 "About Cicely?" she asked in her frankly 
 audacious way. 
 
 He opened his eyes for a moment and then 
 laughed. 
 
 "You needn't guess again, Lilian," he ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 "Funny little thing," she observed. 
 
 "Funny?" he repeated, and his tone brought 
 an almost imperceptible change of expression into 
 his sister's eye.
 
 64 SIMON 
 
 "Oh," she said as though throwing the subject 
 aside, "she is nice and quite pretty, but very 
 young, and not very sophisticated; is she? How- 
 ever, I should think she would be a great success 
 as a man's girl. That low voice and those eyes 
 of hers are very effective. Pass me the salt, Ned." 
 
 Ned looked at her in silence, and then over her 
 shoulder out through the square window set in 
 the vast thickness of the wall, to the grey horizon 
 line. 
 
 "I guess you've recommended me to marry 
 once or twice, Lilian," he observed. 
 
 "Don't 'guess' please!" she laughed, "or I'll 
 stick my bowie knife or gun or something into 
 you! Yes, I've always advised you to marry 
 if you found the right kind of wife." 
 
 She took some credit to herself for this dis- 
 interested advice, since, if he took it, the conse- 
 quences would be decidedly disconcerting to her- 
 self; but she had never pointed out any specific 
 lady yet, or made any conspicuous effort to find 
 one for him. 
 
 "Well " he began, and then broke off. 
 
 "You're not thinking of Cicely, are you?" she 
 asked, still in the same bright light way, but 
 with a quick searching look at him. 
 
 "It seems a bit absurd. I don't imagine for an 
 instant she'd look at me." 
 
 "Wouldn't look !" she began derisively, 
 
 and then pulled herself up very sharply, and 
 altered her tactics on the instant. "She might
 
 THE DRIVE HOME 65 
 
 think you a little too old for her," she said in a 
 tone of entire agreement with him. 
 
 "And also that I've got one too few eyes, and 
 in fact several other criticisms." 
 
 His sister shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "A girl of that age might think those things," 
 she admitted, "but it seems to me that the criti- 
 cism ought to be on the other side. Who is 
 she?" 
 
 Ned looked at her and she broke into a laugh. 
 
 "Well," she said, "I suppose we both have a 
 pretty good idea. She's somebody's something 
 Alfred Cromarty's, I believe; though of course 
 her mother may have fibbed, for she doesn't look 
 much like the Cromartys. Anyhow that pretty 
 well puts her out of the question." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "If you were a mere nobody, it mightn't make 
 so much difference, but your wife must have 
 some sort of a family behind her. One needn't 
 be a snob to think that one mother and a guess 
 at the father is hardly enough!" < 
 
 "After all, that's up to me. I wouldn't be 
 wanting to marry her great-mothers, even if 
 she had any." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders again. 
 
 "My dear Ned, I'm no prude, but there's 
 always some devilment in the blood in these 
 cases." 
 
 "Rot!" said he. 
 
 "Well, rot if you like, but I know more than 
 one instance."
 
 66 SIMON 
 
 He said nothing for a moment and as he sat 
 in silence, a look of keen anxiety came into her 
 eye. She hid it instantly and compressed her 
 lips, and then abruptly her brother said : 
 
 "I wonder whether she's at all taken up with 
 Malcolm Cromarty!" 
 
 She ceased to meet his eye, and her own be- 
 came expressionless. 
 
 "They have spent some months in the same 
 house. At their age the consequences seem pretty 
 inevitable." 
 
 She had contrived to suggest a little more than 
 she said, and he started in his chair. 
 
 "What do you know?" he demanded. 
 
 "Oh, of course, there would be a dreadful row 
 if anything was actually known abroad. Sir 
 Reginald has probably other ideas for his heir." 
 
 "Then there is something between them?" 
 
 She nodded, and though she still did not meet 
 his eye, he accepted the nod with a grim look that 
 passed in a moment into a melancholy laugh. 
 
 "Well," he said, rising, "it was a pretty absurd 
 idea anyhow. I'll go and have a look at myself 
 in the glass and try to see the funny side of it!" 
 
 His sister sat very still after he had left the 
 room.
 
 VIII 
 
 SIR, REGINALD 
 
 CICELY FARMOND and Malcolm Cromarty 
 walked up the avenue together, he pushing his 
 bicycle, she walking by his side with a more than 
 usually serious expression. 
 
 "Then you won't tell me where you've been?" 
 said he. 
 
 "You won't tell me where you've been!" 
 
 He was silent for a moment and then said 
 confidentially: 
 
 "We might as well say we've been somewhere 
 together. I mean, if any one asks." 
 
 "Thank you, I don't need to fib," said she. 
 
 "I don't mean I need to. Only " he seemed 
 
 to find it difficult to explain. 
 
 "I shall merely say I have been for a walk, and 
 you need only say you have been for a ride if 
 you don't want to say where you have really 
 been." 
 
 "And if you don't want to mention that you 
 were driving with Ned Cromarty," he retorted. 
 
 "He only very kindly offered me a lift!" 
 
 She looked quickly at him as she spoke and 
 as quickly away again. The glint in her eye 
 seemed to displease him. 
 
 67
 
 68 SIMON 
 
 "You needn't always be so sharp with me, 
 Cicely," he complained. 
 
 "You shouldn't say stupid things." 
 
 Both were silent for a space and then in a low 
 mournful voice he said: 
 
 "I wish I knew how to win your sympathy, 
 Cicely. You don't absolutely hate me, do you?" 
 
 "Of course I don't hate you. But the way to 
 get a girl's sympathy is not always to keep 
 asking for it." 
 
 He looked displeased again. 
 
 "I don't believe you know what I mean!" 
 
 "I don't believe you do either." 
 
 He grew tender. 
 
 "Your sympathy, Cicely, would make all the 
 difference to my life!" 
 
 "Now, Malcolm " she began in a warning 
 
 voice. 
 
 "Oh, I am not asking you to love me again," 
 he assured her quickly. "It is only sympathy I 
 demand !" 
 
 "But you mix them up so easily. It isn't safe 
 to give you anything." 
 
 "I won't again !" he assured her. 
 
 "Well," she said, though not very sympatheti- 
 cally, "what do you want to be sympathised with 
 about now?" 
 
 "When you offer me sympathy in that tone, I 
 can't give you my confidence !" he said unhappily. 
 
 "Really, Malcolm, how can I possibly tell what 
 your confidence is going to be beforehand? Per- 
 haps it won't deserve sympathy."
 
 SIR REGINALD 69 
 
 "If you knew the state of my affairs!" he said 
 darkly. 
 
 "A few days ago you told me they were very 
 promising," she said with a little smile. 
 
 "So they would be so they are if if only 
 you would care for me, Cicely!" 
 
 "You tell me they are promising when you 
 want me to marry you, and desperate when you 
 want me to sympathise with you," she said a little 
 cruelly. "Which am I to believe?" 
 
 "Hush! Here's Sir Reginald," he said. 
 
 The gentleman who came through a door in 
 the walled garden beside the house was a fresh- 
 coloured, white-haired man of sixty; slender and 
 not above middle height, but very erect, and with 
 the carriage of a person a little conscious of being 
 of some importance. Sir Reginald Cromarty 
 was, in fact, extremely conscious of his position 
 in life, and the rather superior and condescend- 
 ing air he was wont to assume in general society 
 made it a little difficult for a stranger to believe 
 that he could actually be the most popular per- 
 son in the county; especially as it was not hard 
 to discover that his temper could easily become 
 peppery upon provocation. If, however, the 
 stranger chanced to provide the worthy baronet 
 with even the smallest opening of exhibiting his 
 extraordinary kindness of heart were it only by 
 getting wet in a shower or mislaying a walking 
 stick, he would quickly comprehend. And the 
 baronet's sympathy never waited to be sum-
 
 70 SIMON 
 
 moned; it seemed to hover constantly over all 
 men and women he met, spying for its chance. 
 
 He himself was totally unconscious of this 
 attribute and imagined the respect in which he 
 was held to be due to his lineage, rank, and 
 superior breeding and understanding. Indeed, 
 few people in this world can have cut a more 
 dissimilar figure as seen from his own and from 
 other men's eyes; though as both parties were 
 equally pleased with Sir Reginald Cromarty, it 
 mattered little. 
 
 At the sight of Cicely his smile revealed the 
 warmth of his feelings in that direction. 
 
 "Ah, my dear girl," said he, "we've been look- 
 ing for you. Where have you been?" 
 
 "I've been having a walk." 
 
 She smiled at him as she answered, and on his 
 side it was easy to see that the good gentleman 
 was enraptured, and that liss Farmond was not 
 likely to be severely cross-examined as to her 
 movements. Towards Malcolm, on the other 
 hand, though his greeting was kindly enough, his 
 eye was critical. The young author's tie seemed 
 to be regarded with particular displeasure. 
 
 "My God, Margaret, imagine being found dead 
 in such a thing!" he had exclaimed to his wife, 
 after his first sight of it; and time had done 
 nothing to diminish his distaste for this indica- 
 tion of a foreign way of life. 
 
 Lady Cromarty came out of the garden a 
 moment later; a dark thin-faced lady with a 
 gracious manner when she spoke, but with lips
 
 SIR REGINALD 71 
 
 , 
 
 that were usually kept very tight shut and an 
 eye that could easily be hard. 
 
 "Nearly time for lunch," she said. "You two 
 had better hurry up !" 
 
 The young people hurried on to the house and 
 the baronet and his lady walked slowly behind. 
 
 "So they have been away all morning together, 
 Reginald," she remarked. 
 
 "Oh, I don't think so," said he. "He had his 
 bicycle and she has been walking." 
 
 "You are really too unsuspicious, Reggie!" 
 
 "A woman, my dear, is perhaps a little toe 
 much the reverse where a young couple is con- 
 cerned. I have told you before, and I repeat it 
 now emphatically, that neither Cicely nor Mal- 
 colm is in a position to contemplate matrimony 
 for an instant." 
 
 "He is your heir and Cicely is quite aware of 
 it." 
 
 "I assure you, Margaret," he said with great 
 conviction, "that Cicely is not a girl with mer- 
 cenary motives. She is quite charming " 
 
 "Oh, I know your opinion of her, Reggie," 
 Lady Cromarty broke in a trifle impatiently, 
 "and I am fond of her too, as you know. Still, 
 I don't believe a girl who can use her eyes so 
 effectively is quite as simple as you think." 
 
 Sir Reginald laughed indulgently. 
 
 "Really, my love, even the best of women are 
 sometimes a trifle uncharitable! But in any case 
 Malcolm has quite enough sense of his future 
 position to realise that his wife must be somebody
 
 72 SIMON 
 
 without the blemish on her birth, which is no fault 
 of dear Cicely's, but er makes her ineligible 
 for this particular position." 
 
 "I wish I could think that Malcolm is the kind 
 of young man who would consult anything but 
 his own wishes. I have told you often enough, 
 Reggie, that I don't think it is wise to keep these 
 two young people living here in the same house 
 for months on end." 
 
 "But what can one do?" asked the benevolent 
 baronet. "Neither of them has any home of their 
 own. Hang it, I'm the head of their family and 
 I'm bound to show them a little hospitality." 
 
 "But Malcolm has rooms in town. He needn't 
 spend months on end at Keldale." 
 
 The baronet was silent for a moment. Then 
 he said: 
 
 "To tell the truth, my dear, I'm afraid Mal- 
 colm is not turning out quite so well as I had 
 hoped. He certainly ought to be away doing 
 something. At the same time, hang it, you 
 wouldn't have me turn my own kinsman and heir 
 out of my house, Margaret ; would you ?" 
 
 Lady Cromarty sighed, and then her thin lips 
 tightened. 
 
 "You are hopeless, Reggie. I sometimes feel 
 as though I were here merely as matron of a 
 home for lost Cromartys! Well, I hope your 
 confidence won't be abused. I confess I don't 
 feel very comfortable about it myself." 
 
 "Well, well," said Sir Reginald. "My own 
 eyes are open too, I assure you. I shall watch
 
 SIR REGINALD 73 
 
 them very carefully at lunch, in the light of what 
 you have been saying." 
 
 The baronet was an old Etonian, and as his 
 life had been somewhat uneventful since, he was 
 in the habit of drawing very largely on his recol- 
 lections of that nursery of learning. Lunch had 
 hardly begun before a question from Cicely set 
 him going, and for the rest of the meal he regaled 
 her with these reminiscences. 
 
 After luncheon he said to his wife: 
 
 "Upon my word, I noticed nothing whatever 
 amiss. Cicely is a very sensible as well as a 
 deuced pretty girl." 
 
 "I happened to look at Malcolm occasionally," 
 said she. 
 
 Sir Reginald thought that she seemed to imply 
 more than she said,, but then women were like 
 that, he had noticed, and if one took all their 
 implications into account, life would be a trouble- 
 some affair.
 
 IX 
 
 A PHILOSOPHER 
 
 DURING luncheon an exceedingly efficient per- 
 son had been moving briskly behind the chairs. 
 His face was so expressionless, his mouth so 
 tightly closed, and his air of concentration on the 
 business in hand so intense, that he seemed the 
 perfect type of the silent butler. But as soon as 
 lunch was over, and while Cicely still stood in 
 the hall listening with a dubious eye to Malcolm's 
 suggestion of a game of billiards, Mr. James 
 Bisset revealed the other side of his personality* 
 He came up to the young couple with just suffi- 
 cient deference, but no more, and in an accent 
 which experts would have recognised as the hall 
 mark of the western part of North Britain, said : 
 
 "Excuse me, miss, but I've mended your bicycle 
 and I'll show it you if ye like, and just explain 
 the principle of the thing." 
 
 There was at least as much command as invi- 
 tation in his tones. The billiard invitation was 
 refused, and with a hidden smile Cicely followed 
 him to the bicycle house. 
 
 Expert knowledge was James Bisset's foible. 
 Of some subjects, such as buttling, carpentry, 
 and mending bicycles, it was practical : of others, 
 
 74
 
 A PHILOSOPHER 75 
 
 such as shooting, gardening, and motoring, it was 
 more theoretical. To Sir Reginald and my lady 
 he was quite indispensable, for he could repair 
 almost anything, knew his own more particular 
 business from A to Z, and was ready at any 
 moment to shoulder any responsibility. Sir Reg- 
 inald's keeper, gardener, and chauffeur were apt 
 however to be a trifle less enthusiastic, Mr. Bis- 
 set's passion for expounding the principles of 
 their professions sometimes exceeding his tact. 
 
 In person, he was an active, stoutly built man 
 (though far too energetic to be fat), with blunt 
 rounded features, eyes a little protruding, and 
 sandy hair and a reddish complexion which made 
 his age an unguessable secret. He might have 
 been in the thirties or he might have been in 
 the fifties. 
 
 "With regard to these ladies' bicycles, miss- 
 he began with a lecturer's air. 
 
 But by this time Cicely was also an expert in 
 side-tracking her friend's theoretical essays. 
 
 "Oh, how clever of you!" she exclaimed rap- 
 turously. "It looks as good as ever!" 
 
 The interruption was too gratifying to offend. 
 
 "Better in some ways," he said complacently. 
 "The principle of these things is " 
 
 "I did miss it this morning," she hurried on. 
 "In fact I had to have quite a long walk. Luckily 
 Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland gave me a lift com- 
 ing home." 
 
 "Oh, indeed, miss? Stanesland gave ye a lift, 
 did he? An interesting gentleman yon."
 
 76 SIMON 
 
 This time she made no effort to divert Mr. 
 Bisset's train of thought. 
 
 "You think Mr. Cromarty interesting, then?" 
 said she. 
 
 "They say he's hanged a man with his ain 
 hands," said Bisset impressively. 
 
 "What!" she cried. 
 
 "For good and sufficient reason, we'll hope, 
 miss. But whatever the way of it, it makes a 
 gentleman more interesting in a kin' of way than 
 the usual run. And then looking at the thing 
 on general principles, the theory of hanging 
 is " 
 
 "Oh, but surely," she interrupted, "that isn't 
 the only reason why Mr. Cromarty I mean why 
 you think he is interesting?" 
 
 "There's that glass eye, too. That's very inter- 
 esting, miss." 
 
 She still seemed unsatisfied. 
 
 "His glass eye! Oh you mean it has a 
 story?" 
 
 "Vera possibly. He says himself it was done 
 wi' a w r hisky bottle, but possibly that's making 
 the best of it. But what interests me, miss, about 
 yon eye is this " 
 
 He paused dramatically and she enquired in 
 an encouraging voice: 
 
 "Yes, Bisset?" 
 
 "It's the principle of introducing a foreign 
 substance so near the man's brain. What's glass ? 
 What's it consist of?" 
 
 "I I don't know," confessed Cicely weakly.
 
 A PHILOSOPHER 77 
 
 "Silica! And what's silica? Practically the 
 same as sand! Well now if ye put a handful 
 of sand into a man's brain or anyhow next door 
 to it, it's bound to have some effect, bound to 
 have some effect!" 
 
 Bisset's voice fell to a very serious note, and 
 as he was famous for the range of his reading 
 and was generally said to know practically by 
 heart "The People's Self-Educator in Science 
 and Art," Cicely asked a little apprehensively: 
 
 "But what effect can it possibly have?" 
 
 "It might take him different ways," said the 
 philosopher cautiously though sombrely. "But 
 it's a good thing, anyway, Miss Farmond, that 
 the laird of Stanesland is no likely to get mar- 
 ried." 
 
 "Isn't he?" she asked, again with that encour- 
 aging note. 
 
 Bisset replied with another question, asked in 
 an ominous voice: 
 
 "Have ye seen yon castle o' his, miss?" 
 
 Cicely nodded. 
 
 "I called there once with Lady Cromarty." 
 
 "A most interesting place, miss, illustrating the 
 principle of thae castles very instructively." 
 
 Mr. Bisset had evidently been studying archi- 
 tecture as well as science, and no doubt would 
 have given Miss Farmond some valuable informa- 
 tion on the subject. But she seemed to lack 
 enthusiasm for it to-day. 
 
 "But will the castle prevent him marrying?" 
 she enquired with a smile.
 
 78 SIMON 
 
 "The lady in it will," said the philosopher with 
 a sudden descent into worldly shrewdness. 
 
 "Miss Cromarty! Why?" 
 
 "She's mair comfortable there than setting off 
 on her travels again. That's a fac', miss." 
 
 "But but supposing he ' Cicely began 
 
 and then paused. 
 
 "Oh, the laird's no the marrying sort anyhow. 
 He says to me himself one day when I'd taken 
 the liberty of suggesting that a lady would suit 
 the castle fine we was shooting and I was carry- 
 ing his cartridges, which I do for amusement, 
 miss, whiles 'Bisset,' says he, 'the lady will have 
 to be a damned keen shot to think me worth a 
 cartridge. I'm too tough for the table/ says 
 he, 'and not ornamental enough to stuff. They've 
 let me off so far, and why the he ' begging your 
 pardon, miss, but Stanesland uses strong expres- 
 sions sometimes. 'Why the something,' says he, 
 'should they want to put me in the bag now? 
 I'm happier free and so's the lady.' But he's 
 a grand shot and a vera friendly gentleman, vera 
 friendly indeed. It's a pity, though, he's that 
 ugly." 
 
 "Ugly!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I don't think 
 him ugly at all. He's very striking looking. I 
 think he is rather handsome." 
 
 Bisset looked at her with a benevolently re- 
 proving eye. 
 
 "Weel, miss, it's all a matter of taste, but to 
 my mind Stanesland is a fine gentleman, but the 
 vera opposite extreme from a Venus." He broke
 
 A PHILOSOPHER 79 
 
 off and glanced towards the house. "Oh, help 
 us! There's one of thae helpless women crying 
 on me. How this house would get on wanting 
 
 me !" 
 
 He left Miss Farmond to paint the gloomy 
 picture for herself.
 
 X 
 
 THE LETTEtt 
 
 IT was a few days later that Cicely looked up 
 from the local paper she was reading and asked : 
 
 "Who was George Rattar?" 
 
 Sir Reginald laid down his book and looked 
 at her in some surprise. 
 
 "George Rattar? What do you know about 
 him?" 
 
 "I see the announcement of his death. 'Son 
 of the late John Simon Rattar' he's called." 
 
 "That's Silent Simon's brother!" exclaimed Sir 
 Reginald. "Where did he die ?" 
 
 "In New York, it says." 
 
 Sir Reginald turned to his wife. 
 
 "We can hardly send our sympathies to Simon 
 on this bereavement!" 
 
 "No," she said significantly. "I suppose con- 
 gratulations would be more appropriate." 
 
 The baronet took the paper from Cicely and 
 studied it himself. 
 
 "Died about a fortnight ago, I see," he 
 observed. "I wonder whether Simon put this 
 announcement in himself, or whether brother 
 George arranged it in his will? It would be 
 quite like the fellow to have this posthumous 
 wipe at Simon. George had a certain sense of 
 
 80
 
 THE LETTER 81 
 
 humour which Simon lacks. And there was 
 certainly no love lost between them!" 
 
 "Why should it annoy Mr. Rattar?" asked 
 Cicely. 
 
 "Because brother George was not a member of 
 his family he would care to be reminded of. 
 Though on the other hand, Simon is as hard as 
 whinstone and has as much sentiment as this 
 teapot, and he may have put the notice in himself 
 simply to show the world he was rid of the 
 fellow." 
 
 "What was George Rattar then?" enquired 
 Cicely. 
 
 "He was once Simon Rattar's partner, wasn't 
 he, Reginald?" said Lady Cromarty. "And then 
 he swindled him, didn't he?" 
 
 "Swindled several other people as well," said 
 Sir Reginald, "myself included. However, the 
 thing was hushed up, and brother George dis- 
 appeared. Then he took to forgery on his own 
 account and among other people's signatures he 
 imitated with remarkable success was Simon's. 
 This let old Simon in for it again and there was 
 no hushing it up a second time. Simon gave evi- 
 dence against him without mercy, and since then 
 George has been his Majesty's guest for a num- 
 ber of years. So if you meet Mr. Simon Rattar, 
 Cicely, you'd better not tell him how sorry you 
 are to hear of poor George's decease!" 
 
 "I wish I could remember him more distinct- 
 ly," said Lady Cromarty. "I'm afraid I always 
 mix him up with our friend Mr. Simon."
 
 82 SIMON 
 
 "It's little wonder," her husband replied. 
 "They were twins. George was the one with a 
 moustache; one knew them apart by that. Ex- 
 traordinary thing, it has always seemed to me, 
 that their natures should have been so different." 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested Cicely compassionately, 
 with her serious air, "it was only that George was 
 tempted." 
 
 Sir Reginald laughed heartily. 
 
 "You little cynic!" he cried. "You mean to 
 insinuate that if you tempted Simon, he'd be as 
 bad a hat as his brother?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" cried Cicely. "I meant- 
 
 "Tempt him and see!" chuckled the baronet. 
 "And we'll have a little bet on the result!" He 
 was glancing at the paper as he laughed, and 
 now he suddenly stopped laughing and exclaimed, 
 "Hullo! Here's a much more serious loss for 
 our friend. Would you like to earn l, Cicely?" 
 
 "Very much," said she. 
 
 "Well then if you search the road very care- 
 fully between Mr. Simon Rattar's residence and 
 his office you may find his signet ring and obtain 
 the advertised, and I may say princely, reward 
 of one pound." 
 
 "Only a pound!" exclaimed Lady Cromarty, 
 "for that handsome old ring of his?" 
 
 "If he had offered a penny more, I should 
 have taken my business out of his hands!" 
 laughed Sir Reginald. "It would have meant 
 that Silent Simon wasn't himself any longer. A
 
 THE LETTER 83 
 
 pound is exactly his figure; a respectable sum, 
 but not extravagant." 
 
 "What day did he lose it?" asked Cicely. 
 
 "The advertisement doesn't say." 
 
 "He wasn't wearing it " Cicely pulled her- 
 self up sharply. 
 
 "When?" asked Lady Cromarty. 
 
 "Where can I have seen him last?" wondered 
 Cicely with an innocent air. 
 
 "Not for two or three weeks certainly," said 
 Lady Cromarty decisively. "And he can't have 
 lost it then if this advertisement is only just put 
 in." 
 
 "No, of course not," Cicely agreed. 
 
 "Well," said Sir Reginald, "he'll miss his ring 
 more than his brother! And remember, Cicely, 
 you get a pound for finding the ring, and you 
 win a pair of gloves if you can tempt Simon to 
 stray from the paths of honesty and virtue ! By 
 Jingo, I'll give you the gloves if you can even 
 make him tell a good sporting lie!" 
 
 When the good baronet was in this humour 
 no man could excel him in geniality, and, to do 
 him justice, a kindly temper and hearty spirits 
 were the rule with him six days out of seven. 
 On the other hand, he was easily rufHed and his 
 tempers were hot while they lasted. Upon the 
 very next morning there arose on the horizon a 
 little cloud, a cloud that seemed at the moment 
 the merest fleck of vapour, which upset him, his 
 family thought, quite unduly. 
 
 It took the form of a business letter from Mr.
 
 84 SIMON 
 
 Simon Rattar, a letter on the surface perfectly 
 innocuous and formally polite. Yet Sir Reginald 
 seemed considerably disturbed. 
 
 "Damn the man!" he exclaimed as he cast it 
 on the breakfast table. 
 
 "Reggie!" expostulated his wife gently. 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "Matter?" snapped her husband. "Simon 
 Rattar has the impudence to tell me he is letting 
 the farm of Castleknowe to that fellow Shearer 
 after all!" 
 
 "But why not? You meant to some time ago, 
 I know." 
 
 "Some time ago, certainly. But I had a long 
 talk with Simon ten days ago and told him what 
 I'd heard about Shearer and said I wouldn't 
 have the fellow on my property at any price. I 
 don't believe the man is solvent, in the first place ; 
 and in the second place he's a socialistic, quarrel- 
 some, mischievous fellow!" 
 
 "And what did Mr. Rattar think?" 
 
 "He tried to make some allowances for the 
 man, but in the end when he saw I had made 
 up my mind, he professed to agree with me and 
 said he would look out for another tenant. Now 
 he tells me that the matter is settled as per my 
 instructions of the 8th. That's weeks ago, and 
 not a word does he say about our conversation 
 cancelling the whole instructions !" 
 
 "Then Shearer gets the farm?" 
 
 "No, he doesn't! I'm dashed if he does! I 
 shall send Mr. Simon a letter that will make him
 
 THE LETTER 85 
 
 sit up ! He's got to alter the arrangement some- 
 how." 
 
 He turned to Malcolm and added: 
 
 "When your time comes, Malcolm, beware of 
 having a factor who has run the place so long 
 that he thinks it's his own property! By Gad, 
 I'm going to tell him a bit of my mind !" 
 
 During the rest of breakfast he glanced at the 
 letter once or twice, and each time his brows 
 contracted, but he said nothing more in presence 
 of Cicely and Malcolm. After he had left the 
 dining room, however, Lady Cromarty followed 
 him and said: 
 
 "Don't be too hasty with Mr. Rattar, Reggie ! 
 After all, the talk may have slipped his memory." 
 
 "Slipped his memory? If you had heard it, 
 Margaret, you'd know better. I was a bit cross 
 with him for a minute or two then, which I 
 hardly ever am, and that alone would make him 
 remember it, one would think. We talked for 
 over an hour on the business and the upshot was 
 clear and final. No, no, he has got a bit above 
 himself and wants a touch of the curb." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" she asked. 
 
 "I'm going to send in a note by car and tell 
 him to come out and see me about the business at 
 once." 
 
 "Let me see the letter before you send it, 
 Reggie." 
 
 He seemed to growl assent, but when she next 
 saw him the letter had gone; and from the baro- 
 net's somewhat crusty explanation, she suspected
 
 86 SIMON 
 
 that it was a little sharper than he knew she 
 would have approved. 
 
 When the car returned his annoyance was in- 
 creased again for a space. Mr. Rattar had sent 
 a brief reply that he was too busy to come out 
 that afternoon, but he would call on Sir Reginald 
 in the morning. For a time this answer kept Sir 
 Reginald in a state of renewed irritation, and 
 then his natural good humour began to prevail, 
 till by dinner time he was quite calm again, and 
 after dinner in as genial humour as he had been 
 in the day before. 
 
 He played a game of pyramids with Cicely and 
 Malcolm in the billiard room, and then he and 
 Cicely joined Lady Cromarty in the drawing 
 room while the young author went up to his 
 room to work, he declared. He had a large bed- 
 room furnished half as a sitting room where he 
 retired each night to compose his masterpieces as 
 soon as it became impossible to enjoy Miss Far- 
 mond's company without having to share it in 
 the drawing room with his host and hostess. At 
 least, that was the explanation of his procedure 
 given by Lady Cromarty, whose eye was never 
 more critical than when it studied her husband's 
 kinsman and heir. 
 
 Lady Cromarty's eye was not uncritical also 
 of Cicely at times, but to-night she was so relieved 
 to see how Sir Reginald's temper improved under 
 her smiles and half shy glances, that she let her 
 stay up later than usual. Then when she and the
 
 THE LETTER 87 
 
 girl went up to bed, she asked her husband if he 
 would be late. 
 
 "The magazines came this morning," said he. 
 "I'd better sleep in my dressing room." 
 
 The baronet was apt to sit up late when he had 
 anything to read that held his fancy, and the pro- 
 cedure of sleeping in his dressing room was com- 
 monly followed then. 
 
 He bade them good-night and went off towards 
 the library, and a few minutes later, as they were 
 going upstairs, they heard the library door shut. 
 
 When they came to Lady Cromarty's room, 
 Cicely said good-night to her hostess and turned 
 down the passage that led to her own bedroom. 
 A door opened quietly as she passed and a voice 
 whispered : 
 
 "Cicely!" 
 
 She stopped and regarded the young author 
 with a reproving eye. 
 
 "Is anything the matter?" she asked. 
 
 "I just wanted to speak to you!" he pleaded. 
 
 "Now, Malcolm," she said severely, "y u know 
 quite well that Lady Cromarty trusts us not to 
 do this sort of thing!" 
 
 "She's in her room, isn't she?'* 
 
 "What does that matter?" 
 
 "And where's Sir Reginald?" 
 
 "Still in the library." 
 
 "Sitting up late?" 
 
 "Yes, but that doesn't matter either. Good 
 night!"
 
 88 SIMON 
 
 "Wait just one minute, Cicely! Come into my 
 room I won't shut the door!" 
 
 "Certainly not!" she said emphatically. 
 
 "Well then, don't speak so loudly! I must 
 confide in you, Cicely; I'm getting desperate. 
 My position is really serious. Something's got to 
 happen! If you would only give me your sym- 
 pathy- 
 
 "I thought you were writing," she interrupted. 
 
 "I've been trying to, but " 
 
 "Well, write all this down and read it to me 
 to-morrow," she smiled. "Good night!" 
 
 "The blame be on your head!" began the 
 author dramatically, but the slim figure was 
 already moving away, throwing him a parting 
 smile that seemed to wound his sensitive soul 
 afresh.
 
 XI 
 
 NEWS 
 
 EVEN in that scattered countryside of long 
 distances by windy roads, with scarcely ever a 
 village as a focus for gossip, news flew fast. The 
 next morning Ned Cromarty had set out with his 
 gun towards a certain snipe marsh, but while he 
 was still on the high road he met a man on a 
 bicycle. The man had heard strange news and 
 stopped to pass it on, and the next moment Ned 
 was hurrying as fast as his long legs could take 
 him back to the castle. 
 
 He saw his sister only for a moment. 
 
 "Lilian!" he cried, and the sound of his voice 
 made her start and stare at him. "There's a story 
 that Sir Reginald was murdered last night." 
 
 "Murdered!" she repeated in a low incredulous 
 voice. "Ridiculous, Ned! Who told you?" 
 
 "I only know the man by sight, but he seemed 
 to believe it right enough." 
 
 "But how who did it?" 
 
 Her brother shook his head. 
 
 "Don't know. He couldn't tell me. My God, 
 I hope it's not true! I'm off to see." 
 
 A few minutes later he was driving his mare 
 headlong for his kinsman's house. It had begun 
 
 89
 
 90 SIMON 
 
 to rain by this time, and the mournful wreaths 
 of vapour that swept over the bare, late autumnal 
 country and drove in fine drops against his face 
 sent his spirits down ever lower as the mare 
 splashed her way along the empty miles of road. 
 The melancholy thrumming of the telegraph 
 wires droned by his side all the while, and as 
 this dirge waxed for the moment as they passed 
 each post, his eye would glance grimly at those 
 gaunt poles. Very suitable and handy for a 
 certain purpose, they struck him if by any pos- 
 sibility this tale were true. 
 
 He knew the worst when he saw Bisset at the 
 door. 
 
 "Thank God, you've come, sir," said the butler 
 devoutly. "The master would have expected it 
 of you." 
 
 "How did it happen? What does it mean? Do 
 you mean to say it's actually truel" 
 
 Bisset shook his head sombrely. 
 
 "Ower true," said he. "But as to how it hap- 
 pened, come in to the library, sir. It was in his 
 ain library he was killed ! The Fiscal and Super- 
 intendent is there now and we've been going into 
 the circumstantial evidence. Most extraordinary 
 mystery, sir most extraordinary!" 
 
 In the library they found Simon Rattar and 
 Superintendent Sutherland. The Superinten- 
 dent was a big burly red-moustached man; his 
 face a certificate of honesty, but hardly of the 
 intellectual type. Ned looked round him appre- 
 hensively for something else, but Bisset said:
 
 NEWS 91 
 
 "We've taken him upstairs, sir." 
 
 For a moment as he looked round that spacious 
 comfortable room with its long bookcases and 
 easy chairs, and on the tables and mantel-piece 
 a hundred little mementoes of its late owner, the 
 laird of Stanesland was unable to speak a word, 
 and the others respected his silence. Then he 
 pulled himself together sharply and asked: 
 
 "How did it happen? Tell me all about it!" 
 
 Perhaps there might have been for a moment 
 in Simon's eye a hint that this demand was ir- 
 regular, but the superintendent evidently took 
 no exception to the intrusion. Besides being a 
 considerable local magnate and a kinsman of the 
 dead baronet, Stanesland had a forcible person- 
 ality that stood no gainsaying. 
 
 "Well, sir," said the superintendent, "Mr. 
 Rattar could perhaps explain best " 
 
 "Explain yourself, Sutherland," said Simon 
 briefly. 
 
 The superintendent pointed to a spot on the 
 carpet a few paces from the door. 
 
 "We found Sir Reginald lying there," he said. 
 "His skull had been fairly cracked, just over 
 the right eye, sir. The blow would have been 
 enough to kill him I'd think myself, but there 
 were marks in his neck too, seeming to show that 
 the murderer had strangled him afterwards to 
 make sure. However, we'll be having the medical 
 evidence soon. But there's no doubt that was 
 the way of it, and Mr. Rattar agrees with me." 
 
 The lawyer merely nodded.
 
 92 SIMON 
 
 "What was it done with?" 
 
 The superintendent pursed his lips and shook 
 his head. 
 
 "That's one of the mysterious things in the 
 case, sir. There's no sign of any weapon in the 
 room. The fire irons are far too light. But it 
 was an unco' heavy blow. There was little bleed- 
 ing, but the skull was fair cracked." 
 
 "Was anything stolen?" 
 
 "That's another mystery, sir. Nothing was 
 stolen anywhere in the house and there was no 
 papers in a mess like, or anything." 
 
 "When was he found?" asked Ned. 
 
 "Seven-fifty this morning, sir," said Bisset. 
 "The housemaid finding the door lockit came to 
 me. I knew the dining-room key fitted this door 
 too, so I opened it and there he lay." 
 
 "All night, without any one knowing he hadn't 
 gone to bed?" 
 
 "That's the unfortunate thing, sir," said the 
 superintendent. "It seems that Sir Reginald had 
 arranged to sleep in his dressing room as he was 
 going to be sitting up late reading." 
 
 "Murderer must have known that," put in 
 Simon. 
 
 "Almost looks like it," agreed the superin- 
 tendent. 
 
 "And nobody in the house heard or saw any- 
 thing?" 
 
 "Nobody, sir," said the superintendent. 
 
 "That's their statement," added the lawyer in 
 his driest voice.
 
 NEWS 93 
 
 "Was anybody sitting up late?" 
 
 "Nobody admits it," said the lawyer, again 
 very drily. 
 
 "Thirteen," said Bisset softly. 
 
 They turned towards him, but it seemed that 
 he was talking to himself. He was, in fact, quiet- 
 ly taking measurements with a tape. 
 
 "Go on," said Cromarty briefly. 
 
 "Well, sir," said the superintendent. "The 
 body was found near the door as I was pointing 
 out, but it's a funny thing that a small table had 
 been upset apparently, and Bisset tells us that 
 that table stood near the window." 
 
 "Humph," grunted Simon sceptically. 
 
 "I'm quite sure of it, Mr. Rattar," said Bisset 
 confidently, looking round from his work of 
 measurement. 
 
 "No positive proof it was upset," said the 
 lawyer. 
 
 "Did you find it upset?" asked Ned. 
 
 The lawyer shook his head emphatically and 
 significantly, and the superintendent agreed. 
 
 "No, it was standing just where it is now near 
 the wall." 
 
 "Then why do you think it was upset?" 
 
 "I picked up yon bits of sealing wax and yon 
 piece of India rubber," said Bisset, looking round 
 again. "I know they were on the wee table 
 yesterday and I found them under the curtain in 
 the morning and the table moved over to the 
 wall. It follows that the table has been cowpit 
 and then set up again in another place, and the
 
 94 
 
 other things on it put back. Is that not a fair 
 deduction, sir?" 
 
 Ned nodded thoughtfully. 
 
 "Seems to me so," he said. 
 
 "It seems likely enough," the superintendent 
 also agreed. "And if that's the case there would 
 seem to have been some kind of ongoings near the 
 window." 
 
 The Procurator Fiscal still seemed uncon- 
 vinced. 
 
 "Nothing to go on. No proper evidence. It 
 leads nowhere definitely," he said. 
 
 "Well now," continued the superintendent, 
 "the question is how did the murderer get into 
 the room? The door was found locked and the 
 key had been taken away, so whether he had 
 locked it from the inside or the outside \ve can't 
 tell. There's small chance of finding the key, I 
 doubt, for a key's a thing easy hidden away." 
 
 "So he might have come in by the door and 
 then left by the door and locked it after him," 
 said Ned. "Or he might have come in by the 
 window, locked the door and gone out by the 
 window. Or he might have come in by the 
 window and gone out by the door, locking it after 
 him. Those are all the chances, aren't they?" 
 
 "Indeed, that seems to be them all," said the 
 superintendent with a note of admiration for this 
 clear exposition that seemed to indicate he was 
 better himself at details than deductions. 
 
 "And now what about the window? Was that 
 open or shut or what?"
 
 NEWS 95 
 
 "Shut but not snibbed, sir." 
 
 Ned turned to Bisset. 
 
 "Did Sir Reginald ever forget to snib the 
 windows, supposing one happened to be open?" 
 
 "Practically never, sir." 
 
 "Last thing before he left the room, I sup- 
 pose?" said the lawyer. 
 
 The butler hesitated. 
 
 "I suppose so, sir," he admitted, "but of course 
 I was never here to see." 
 
 "Exactly!" said Simon. "Therefore one can 
 draw no conclusions as to whether the window 
 had been standing all the time just as it is now, or 
 whether it had been opened and shut again from 
 the outside; seeing that Sir Reginald was pre- 
 sumably killed before his usual time for looking 
 to the windows." 
 
 "Wait a bit!" said Ned. "I was assuming a 
 window had been open. But were the windows 
 fastened before Sir Reginald came in to sit here 
 last thing?" 
 
 "Certainly they were that," said the butler 
 emphatically. 
 
 "It was a mild night, he might have opened 
 one himself," replied the Procurator Fiscal. "Or 
 supposing the man had come in and left again 
 by the door, what's more likely than that he 
 unsnibbed the window to make people think he 
 had come that way?" 
 
 "He would surely have left it wide open," 
 objected Ned. 
 
 "Might have thought that too obvious," re-
 
 96 SIMON 
 
 plied the lawyer, "or might have been afraid of 
 the noise. Unsnibbing would be quite enough to 
 suggest entry that way." 
 
 Ned turned his keen eye hard on him. 
 
 "What's your own theory then?" 
 
 "I've none," grunted Simon. "No definite evi- 
 dence one way or the other. Mere guesses are 
 
 no use." 
 
 Ned walked to the window and looked at it 
 carefully. Then he threw it up and looked out 
 into the garden. 
 
 "Of course you've looked for footsteps under- 
 neath?" he asked. 
 
 "Naturally," said Simon. "But it's a hard 
 gravel path and grass beyond. One could fancy 
 one saw traces, but no definite evidence." 
 
 The window was one of three together, with 
 stone mullions between. They were long win- 
 dows reaching down nearly to the level of the 
 floor, so that entrance that way was extremely 
 easy if one of them were open. Cromarty got 
 out and stood on the sill examining the middle 
 sash. 
 
 Simon regarded him with a curious caustic 
 look for a moment in his eye. 
 
 "Looking for finger marks?" he enquired. 
 
 "Yes," said Ned. "Did you look for them?" 
 
 For a single instant the Procurator Fiscal 
 seemed a little taken aback. Then he grunted 
 with a half laugh : 
 
 "Don't believe much in them." 
 
 "Experienced criminals, that's been convicted
 
 NEWS 97 
 
 before, frequently wears gloves for to prevent 
 their finger prints being spotted," said the learned 
 Bisset. 
 
 Mr. Rattar shot him a quick ambiguous glance, 
 and then his eyes assumed their ordinary cold 
 look and he said : 
 
 "No evidence anybody ever opened that win- 
 dow from the outside. If they had, Sir Regi- 
 nald would have heard them." 
 
 "Well," said Ned, getting back into the room, 
 "there are no finger marks anyhow." 
 
 "The body being found near the door certainly 
 seems to be in favour of Mr. Rattar's opinion," 
 observed the superintendent. 
 
 "I thought Mr. Rattar had formed no opinion 
 yet," said Cromarty. 
 
 "No more I have," grunted the lawyer. 
 
 The superintendent looked a trifle perplexed. 
 
 "Before Mr. Cromarty had come in, sir, I 
 understood you for to say everything pointed 
 to the man having come in by the door and hit 
 Sir Reginald on the head as he came to see who 
 it was when he heard him outside." 
 
 "I merely suggested that," said Simon Rattar 
 sharply. "It fits the facts, but there's no definite 
 evidence yet." 
 
 Ned Cromarty had turned and was frowning 
 out of the window. Now he wheeled quickly and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "If the murderer came in through the window 
 while Sir Reginald was in the room, either the 
 window was standing open or Sir Reginald
 
 98 SIMON 
 
 opened it for him! Did Sir Reginald ever sit 
 with his window open late at night at this time 
 of year?" 
 
 "Never once, sir," said Bisset confidently. 
 "He likit fresh air outside fine but never kept 
 his windies open much unless the weather was 
 vera propitious." 
 
 "Then," said Ned, "why should Sir Reginald 
 have opened the window of his own accord to a 
 stranger at the dead of night?" 
 
 "Exactly!" said Mr. Rattar. "Thing seems 
 absurd. He'd never do it." 
 
 "That's my own opinion likewise, sir," put in 
 Bisset. 
 
 "It's only common sense," added the super- 
 intendent. 
 
 "Then how came the window to be unfast- 
 ened?" demanded Ned. 
 
 "I've suggested a reason," said Simon. 
 
 "As a blind? Sounds to me damned thin." 
 
 Simon Rattar turned away from him with an 
 air that suggested that he thought it time to 
 indicate distinctly that he was in charge of the 
 case and not the laird of Stanesland. 
 
 "That's all we can do just now, Sutherland," 
 he said. "No use disturbing the household any 
 longer at present." 
 
 Cromarty stepped up to him suddenly and 
 asked: 
 
 "Tell me honestly ! Do you suspect anybody?" 
 
 Simon shook his head decidedly.
 
 NEWS 99 
 
 "No sufficient evidence yet. Good morning, 
 Mr. Cromarty." 
 
 Ned was following him to the door, his lips 
 compressed and his eyes on the floor, when Bisset 
 touched his arm and beckoned him back. 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," said he, "but could you not 
 manage just to stop on for a wee bit yet?" 
 
 Ned hesitated. 
 
 "They won't be wanting visitors, Bisset." 
 
 "They needn't know if you don't want them 
 to, sir. Lady Cromarty is shut up in her room, 
 and the others are keeping out of the way. If 
 you wouldn't mind my giving you a little cold 
 luncheon in my sitting room, sir, I'd like to have 
 your help. I'm making a few sma' bits of inves- 
 tigation on my own. You're one of the family, 
 sir, and I know you'll be wanting to find out 
 who killed the master." 
 
 Ned's eye flashed suddenly. 
 
 "By God, I'll never rest in this world or the 
 next till I do! All right, I'll wait for a bit."
 
 XII 
 
 CICELY 
 
 NED CROMARTY waited in the hall while Bisset 
 went to the door with the Procurator Fiscal and 
 Superintendent of Police. As he stood there in 
 the darkened silence of the house, there came to 
 his ears for an instant the faint sound of a voice, 
 and it seemed to be a woman's. With that the 
 current of his thoughts seemed to change, and 
 when Bisset returned he asked, though with 
 marked hesitation: 
 
 "Do you think, Bisset, I could do anything for 
 any of them, Mr. Malcolm Cromarty, or er 
 Miss Farmond?" 
 
 Bisset considered the point judicially. It was 
 clear he felt that the management of the house- 
 hold was in his hands now. 
 
 "I am sure Miss Farmond would be pleased, 
 sir poor young lady !" 
 
 "Do you really think so?" said Ned, and his 
 manner brightened visibly. "Well, if she won't 
 mind- 
 
 "I think if you come this way, sir, you will 
 find her with Sir Malcolm." 
 
 "Sir Malcolm !" exclaimed Ned. "My God, so 
 he is!" 
 
 100
 
 CICELY 101 
 
 To himself he added : 
 
 "And she will soon be Lady Cromarty!" 
 
 But the thought did not seem to exhilarate 
 him. 
 
 He was led towards the billiard room, an addi- 
 tion to the house which lay rather apart. The 
 door was half open and through it he could see 
 that the blinds had been drawn down, and he 
 could hear a murmur of voices. 
 
 "They are in there, sir," said Bisset, and he 
 left him. 
 
 As Ned Cromarty entered he caught the words, 
 spoken by the new baronet: 
 
 "My dear Cicely, I depend on your sympa- 
 thy- 
 
 He broke off as he heard a footstep, and 
 seemed to move a little apart from the chair 
 where Cicely was sitting. 
 
 The two young people greeted their visitor, 
 Cicely in a voice so low that it was scarcely audi- 
 ble, but with a smile that seemed, he thought, to 
 welcome him; Sir Malcolm with a tragic solem- 
 nity which no doubt was quite appropriate to a 
 bereaved baronet. The appearance of a third 
 party seemed, however, to afford him no par- 
 ticular gratification, and after exchanging a sen- 
 tence or two, he begged, in a very serious tone, 
 to be excused, and retired, walking softly and 
 mournfully. Ned noticed then that his face was 
 extraordinarily pale and his eye disturbed. 
 
 "I was afraid of disturbing you," said Ned. 
 He was embarrassed, a rare condition with him,
 
 102 SIMON 
 
 which, when it did afflict him, resulted in an 
 impression of intimidating truculence. 
 
 Cicely seemed to shrink a little, and he re- 
 solved to leave instantly. 
 
 "Oh no!" she said shyly. 
 
 "I only wanted to say that if I could do any- 
 thing for you well, you've only to let me know." 
 
 "It's awfully kind of you," she murmured. 
 
 There was something so evidently sincere in 
 this murmur that his embarrassment forthwith 
 left him. 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" he said after his outspoken 
 habit. "I was afraid I was putting my foot in 
 it. But if you really don't mind my seeing you 
 for a minute or two, I'd just like to say- 
 He broke off abruptly, and she looked up at 
 him questioningly. 
 
 "Dash it, I can't say it, Miss Farmond! But 
 you know, don't you?" 
 
 She murmured something again, and though 
 he could not quite hear what it was, he knew she 
 understood and appreciated. 
 
 Leaning against the corner of the shrouded 
 billiard table, with the blinds down and this pale 
 slip of a girl in deep mourning sitting in a basket 
 chair in the dim light, he began suddenly to 
 realise the tragedy. 
 
 "I've been too stunned till now to grasp what's 
 happened," he said in a moment. "Our best 
 friend gone, Miss Farmond!" 
 
 He had said exactly the right thing now. 
 
 "He certainly was mine !" she said.
 
 CICELY 103 
 
 "And mine too. We may live to be a brace of 
 Methuselahs, but I guess we'll never see his like 
 again !" 
 
 His odd phrase made her smile for a moment 
 despite herself. It passed swiftly and she said: 
 
 "I can't believe it yet." 
 
 Again there was silence, and then he said 
 abruptly : 
 
 "It's little wonder you can't believe it. The 
 thing is so extraordinary. It's incredible. A man 
 without an enemy in the world no robbery at- 
 tempted sitting in his own library in just 
 about the most peaceful and out of the way 
 county in Scotland not a sound heard by any- 
 body not a reason that one can possibly imag- 
 ine and yet murdered!" 
 
 "But it must have been a robber surely!" 
 
 "Why didn't he rob something then?" 
 
 "But how else ?" 
 
 "How indeed ! You've not a suspicion of any 
 one yourself, Miss Farmond? Say it right out 
 if you have. We don't lynch here. At least," 
 he corrected himself as he recalled the telegraph 
 posts, "it hasn't been done yet." 
 
 "I can't suspect any one!" she said earnestly. 
 "I never met any one in my life that I could 
 possibly imagine doing such a thing!" 
 
 "No," he said. "I guess our experiences have 
 been pretty different. I've met lots, but then 
 there are none of those boys here. Who is there 
 in this place?" 
 
 He paused and stared into space.
 
 104 SIMON 
 
 "It must have been a tramp some one who 
 doesn't belong here !" 
 
 "I was trying to think whether there are any 
 lunatics about," he said in a moment. "But 
 there aren't any." 
 
 There was silence for some minutes. He was 
 thinking; she never moved. Then he heard a 
 sound, and looking down saw that she had her 
 handkerchief in her hand. He had nearly bent 
 over her before he remembered Sir Malcolm, and 
 at the recollection he said abruptly : 
 
 "Well, I've disturbed you too long. If I can 
 do anything anything whatever, you'll let me 
 know, won't you?" 
 
 "You are very, very kind," she murmured, and 
 a note in her voice nearly made him forget the 
 new baronet. In fact, he had to retire rather 
 quickly to be sure of himself. 
 
 The efficiency of James Bisset was manifest 
 at every conjuncture. Businesslike and brisk he 
 appeared from somewhere as Cromarty reached 
 the hall, and led him from the front regions to 
 the butler's sitting room. 
 
 "I will bring your lunch in a moment, sir," 
 he murmured, and vanished briskly. 
 
 The room looked out on a courtyard at the back, 
 and through the window Ned could see against 
 the opposite buildings the rain driving in clouds. 
 In the court the wind was eddying, and beneath 
 some door he could hear it drone insistently. 
 Though the toughest of men, he shivered a little
 
 CICELY 105 
 
 and drew up a wicker chair close in front of the 
 fire. 
 
 "It's incredible!" he murmured, and as he 
 stared at the flames this thought seemed to haunt 
 him all the time. 
 
 Bisset laid the table and another hour passed. 
 Ned ate a little lunch and then smoked and stared 
 at the fire while the wind droned and blustered 
 without ceasing, and occasionally a cross gust 
 sent the rain drops softly pattering on the panes. 
 
 "I'm damned if I see a thing!" he suddenly 
 exclaimed half aloud, and jumped to his feet. 
 
 Before he had time to start for the door, 
 Bisset's mysterious efficiency was made manifest 
 again. Precisely as he was wanted, he appeared, 
 and this time it was clear that his own efforts had 
 not been altogether fruitless. He had in fact an 
 air of even greater complacency than usual. 
 
 "I have arrived at certain conclusions, sir," he 
 announced.
 
 XIII 
 
 THE DEDUCTIVE PROCESS 
 
 BISSET laid on the table a sheet of note paper. 
 
 "Here," said he, "is a kin' of bit sketch plan 
 of the library. Observing this plan attentively, 
 you will notice two crosses, marked A and B. 
 A is where yon wee table was standing no the 
 place against the wall where it was standing this 
 morning, but where it was standing before it was 
 knocked over last night. B is where the corp 
 was found. You follow that, sir?" 
 
 Ned nodded. 
 
 "I follow," said he. 
 
 "Now, the principle in a' these cases of crime 
 and detection," resumed the philosopher, assum- 
 ing his lecturer's air, "is noticing such sma' points 
 of detail as escape the eye of the ordinar' observ- 
 er, taking full and accurate measurements, mak- 
 ing a plan with the principal sites carefully 
 markit, and drawing, as it were, logical conclu- 
 sions. Applying this method now to the present 
 instance, Mr. Cromarty, the first point to observe 
 is that the room is twenty-six feet long, measured 
 from the windie, which is a bit recessed or set 
 back, as it were, to the other end of the apart- 
 ment. Half of 26 is 13, and if you take the 
 
 106
 
 THE DEDUCTIVE PROCESS 107 
 
 half way line and draw approximate perpendicu- 
 lars to about where the table was standing and to 
 as near as one can remember where the middle 
 of the corp roughly was lying, you get exactly 
 six feet ten and five-eighths inches, in both 
 cases." 
 
 "An approximate perpendicular to roughly 
 about these places gives this exact measurement?" 
 repeated Cromarty gravely. "Well, what next?" 
 
 "Well, sir, I'll not insist too much on the 
 coincidence, but it seems to me vera remarkable. 
 But the two significant features of this case seem 
 to me yon table being upset over by the windie 
 and the corp being found over by the door." 
 
 "You're talking horse sense now," murmured 
 Ned. 
 
 "Now, yon table was upset by Sir Reginald 
 falling on it!" 
 
 Ned looked at him keenly. 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "Because one of the legs was broken clean off!'' 
 
 "What, when we saw it this morning?" 
 
 "We had none of us noticed it then, sir; but 
 I've had a look at it since, and there's one leg 
 broken fair off at the top. The break was half 
 in the socket, as it were, leaving a kind of spike, 
 and if you stick that into the socket you can make 
 the table look as good as new. It's all right, in 
 fac', until you try to move it, and then of course 
 the leg just drops out." 
 
 "And it wasn't like that yesterday?" 
 
 "I happened to move it myself not so long
 
 108 SIMON 
 
 before Sir Reginald came into the room, and 
 that's how I know for certain where it was stand- 
 ing and that it wasn't broken. And yon wee light 
 tables dinna lose their legs just with being 
 cowped, supposing there was nothing else than 
 that to smash them. No, sir, it was poor Sir 
 Reginald falling on top of it that smashed yon 
 leg." 
 
 "Then he w r as certainly struck down near the 
 window !" 
 
 "Well, we'll see that in a minute. It's no in 
 reason, Mr. Cromarty, to suppose he deliberately 
 opened the windie to let his ain murderer in. And 
 it's a' just stuff and nonsense to suggest Sir 
 Reginald was sitting on a winter's night or next 
 door to winter onyhow, with his windie wide open. 
 I'm too well acquaint with his habits to believe 
 that for a minute. And it's impossible the man 
 can have opened a snibbed windie and got in, 
 with some one sitting in the room, and no alarm 
 given. So it's perfectly certain the man must 
 have come in at the door. That's a fair deduc- 
 tion, is it not, sir?" 
 
 Ned Cromarty frowned into space in silence. 
 When he spoke it seemed to be as much to him- 
 self as to Bisset. 
 
 "How did the window get unsnibbed? Every- 
 thing beats me, but that beats me fairly." 
 
 "Well, sir, Mr. Rattar may no be just exac'ly 
 as intellectual as me and you, but I think there's 
 maybe something in his idea it was done to put 
 us off the scent.'
 
 THE DEDUCTIVE PROCESS 109 
 
 "Possibly but it strikes me as a derned feeble 
 dodge. However, what's your next conclusion?" 
 
 "My next conclusion is, sir, that Simon Rattar 
 may not be so vera far wrong either about Sir 
 Reginald hearing some one at the door and start- 
 ing to see who it was. Then bang! the door 
 would suddenly open, and afore he'd time to 
 speak, the man had given him a bat on the heid 
 that finished him." 
 
 "And where does the table come in?" 
 
 "Well, my explanation is just this, that Sir 
 Reginald suspected something and took the wee 
 table as a kind of weapon." 
 
 "Rot!" said Ned ruthlessly. "You think he 
 left the fireplace and went round by the window 
 to fetch such a useless weapon as that?" 
 
 James Bisset was not easily damped. 
 
 "That's only a possibility, sir. Excluding that, 
 what must have happened? For that's the way, 
 Mr. Cromarty, to get at the fac's; you just ex- 
 clude what's not possible and what remains is 
 the truth. If you'd read " 
 
 "Well, come on. What's your theory now?" 
 
 "Just that Sir Reginald backed away from the 
 door with the man after him, till he got to the 
 table. And then down went him and the table 
 together." 
 
 "And why didn't he cry out or raise the alarm 
 in some way while he was backing away?" 
 
 "God, but that fits into my other deductions 
 fine!" cried Bisset. "I hadna thought of that.
 
 110 SIMON 
 
 Just wait, sir, till you see how the case is going 
 to hang together in a minute." 
 
 "But how did Sir Reginald's body come to be 
 lying near the door?" 
 
 The philosopher seemed to be inspired afresh. 
 
 "The man clearly meant to take it away and 
 hide it somewhere that'll be just it! And then 
 he found it ower heavy and decided to leave it 
 after all." 
 
 "And who was this man?" 
 
 "That's precisely where proper principles, Mr. 
 Cromarty, lead to a number of vera interesting 
 and instructive discoveries, and I think ye'll see, 
 sir, that the noose is on the road to his neck al- 
 ready. I've not got the actual man, mind! In 
 fac' I've no idea who he is, but I can tell you a 
 good few things about him enough, in fac', to 
 make escape practically impossible. In the first 
 place, he was one well acquaint with the ways of 
 the house. Is that not a fair deduction, sir?" 
 
 "Sure !" said Ned. "I've put my bottom dollar 
 on that already." 
 
 "He came from inside this house and not out- 
 side it. How long he'd been in the house, that I 
 cannot say, but my own deductions are he'd been 
 in the house waiting for his chance for a good 
 while before the master heard him at yon door. 
 Is that not a fair deduction too, sir?" 
 
 "It's possible," said Ned, though not with great 
 conviction. 
 
 "And now here's a point that accounts for Sir 
 Reginald giving no alarm Sir Reginald knew
 
 THE DEDUCTIVE PROCESS 111 
 
 the man and couldna believe he meant mischief!" 
 
 Ned looked at him quickly and curiously. 
 
 "Well?" said he. 
 
 "Is that not a fair deduction, Mr. Cromarty?" 
 
 "Seems to fill the bill." 
 
 "And now, here's a few personal details. Yon 
 man was a fair active strong man to have dealt 
 with the master the way he did. But he was nol; 
 strong enough to carry off the corp like a sack of 
 potatoes; he was no a great muckle big giant, 
 that's to say. And finally, calculating from the dis- 
 tance the body was from the door and the number 
 of steps he would be likely to take to the door, 
 and sae arriving at his stride and deducing his 
 height accordingly, he'd be as near as may be five 
 feet nine inches tall. Now, sir, me and you ought 
 to get him with a' that known !" 
 
 Ned Cromarty looked at him with a curious 
 gleam in his eye. 
 
 "What's your own height, Bisset?" he enquired. 
 
 "Five feet nine inches/' said the reasoner 
 promptly, and then suddenly his mouth fell open 
 but his voice ceased. 
 
 "And now," pursued Ned with a grimly 
 humorous look, "can you not think of a man 
 just that height, pretty hefty but not a giant, 
 who was certainly in the house last night, who 
 knew all the ways of it, and who would never 
 have been suspected by Sir Reginald of meaning 
 mischief?" 
 
 "God!" exclaimed the unfortunate reasoner. 
 "I've proved it was mysel'!"
 
 112 SIMON 
 
 "Well, and what shall I do string you up now 
 or hand you over to the police?" 
 
 "But, Mr. Cromarty you don't believe that's 
 right surely?" 
 
 Tragic though the occasion was, Ned could not 
 refrain from one brief laugh. And then his face 
 set hard again and he said : 
 
 "No, Bisset, I do not believe it was you. In 
 fact, I wouldn't believe it was you if you con- 
 fessed to it. But I'd advise you not to go spread- 
 ing your deductions abroad ! Deduction's a game 
 that wants a bit more practice than you or I have 
 had." 
 
 It is possible that James Bisset had never 
 looked quite so crestfallen in his life. 
 
 "Then that's all nonsense I've been talking, 
 sir?" he said lugubriously. 
 
 "No," said Ned emphatically. "I'll not say 
 that either. You've brought out some good 
 points that broken table, the place the body 
 was found, the possible reason why Sir Reginald 
 gave no alarm ; seems to me those have something 
 to them. But what they mean what to con- 
 clude; we're as far off that, Bisset, as ever!" 
 
 The philosopher's self esteem was evidently re- 
 turning as fast as it had gone. 
 
 "Then you wouldn't think there would be any 
 harm, sir, in my continuing my investigations?" 
 
 "On your present lines, the only harm is likely 
 to be to yourself. Keep at it but don't hang 
 yourself accidentally. And let me know if you 
 discover anything else mind that."
 
 THE DEDUCTIVE PROCESS 113 
 
 "I'll mind on it, no fears, Mr. Cromarty!" 
 
 Ned left him with an expression on his coun- 
 tenance which indicated ihat the deductive pro- 
 cess had already been resumed. 
 
 Till he arrived at his own door, the laird of 
 Stanesland was unconscious of a single incident 
 of his drive home. All the way his eye stared 
 straight into space. Sometimes a gleam would 
 light it for an instant, and then he would shake 
 his head and the gleam would fade away. 
 
 "I can see neither a damned head nor a damned 
 tail to it 1" he said to himself as he alighted.
 
 XIV 
 
 THE QUESTION OF MOTIVE 
 
 Two days later Mr. Ison entered Mr. Simon 
 Rattar's room and informed him that Mr. Cro- 
 marty of Stanesland wished to see him on par- 
 ticular business. The lawyer was busy and this 
 interruption seemed for the moment distinctly 
 unwelcome. Then he grunted: 
 
 "Show him in." 
 
 In the minute or two that passed before the 
 laird's entrance, Simon seemed to be thinking 
 intently and finally to come to a decision, which, 
 to judge from his reception of his client, was 
 on rather different lines from his first thoughts 
 when Mr. Cromarty's name was announced. To 
 describe Simon Rattar at any time as genial 
 would be an exaggeration, but he showed his 
 nearest approach to geniality as he bade his 
 client good-morning. 
 
 "Sorry to interrupt you," said Ned, "but I 
 can't get this business out of my head, night or 
 day. Whether you want me or not, I've got to 
 play a hand in this game; but it's on your side, 
 Mr. Rattar, and maybe I might be able to help 
 a little if I could get something to go on." 
 
 The lawyer nodded. 
 
 114
 
 115 
 
 "I quite understand. Glad to have your help, 
 Mr. Cromarty. Dreadful affair. We're all try- 
 ing to get to the bottom of it, I can assure you." 
 
 "I believe you," said Ned. "There never was 
 a man better worth avenging than Sir Reginald." 
 
 "Quite so," said Simon briefly, his eyes fixed 
 on the other's face. 
 
 "Any fresh facts?" 
 
 Simon drew a sheet of paper from his desk. 
 
 "Superintendent Sutherland has given me a 
 note of three for what they are worth, discov- 
 ered by the butler. The first is about that table. 
 It seems a leg has been broken." 
 
 "Bisset told me that before I left the house." 
 
 "And thought it was an important fact, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 "What its importance is, it's hard to say, but 
 it's a fact, and seems to me well worth noting." 
 
 "It is noted," said the Procurator Fiscal drily. 
 "But I can't see that it leads anywhere." 
 
 "Bisset maintains it implies Sir Reginald fell 
 over it when he was struck down ; and that seems 
 to me pretty likely." 
 
 Simon shook his head. 
 
 "How do we know Sir Reginald hadn't broken 
 it himself previously and then set it up against 
 the wall assuming it ever stood anywhere else, 
 which seems to want confirmation?" 
 
 "A dashed thin suggestion!" said Ned. "How- 
 ever, what are the other discoveries?" 
 
 "The second is that one or two small frag- 
 ments of dried mud were found under the edge
 
 116 SIMON 
 
 of the curtain, and the third is that the hearth 
 brush was placed in an unusual position accord' 
 ing to Bisset." 
 
 "And what are Bisset's conclusions?" 
 
 "That the man, whoever he was, had brought 
 mud into the room and then swept it up with the 
 hearth brush; these fragments being pieces that 
 he had swept accidentally under the curtain and 
 so overlooked." 
 
 "Good for Bisset!" exclaimed Ned. "He has 
 got there this time, I do believe." 
 
 Simon smiled sceptically. 
 
 "Sir Reginald was in the library in his walk- 
 ing boots that afternoon. Naturally he would 
 leave mud, and quite likely he swept it up him- 
 self then, though the only evidence of sweeping is 
 Bisset's statement about the brush. And what 
 proof is that of anything? Does your hearth 
 brush always stay in the same position?" 
 
 "Never noticed," said Ned. 
 
 "And I don't believe anybody notices suffi- 
 ciently closely to make their evidence on such a 
 point worth a rap!" said Simon. 
 
 "A servant would." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Cromarty, make the most of the 
 hearth brush then." 
 
 There seemed for an instant to be a defiant 
 note in the Procurator Fiscal's voice that made 
 Ned glance at him sharply. But he saw nothing 
 in his face but the same set and steady look. 
 
 "We're on the same side in this racket, Mr.
 
 THE QUESTION OF MOTIVE 117 
 
 Rattar," said Ned. "I'm only trying to help 
 same as you." 
 
 Simon's voice seemed now to have exactly the 
 opposite note. For him, his tone of acquiescence 
 was even eager. 
 
 "Quite so; quite so, Mr. Cromarty. We are 
 acting together; exactly." 
 
 "That's all the new evidence then?" 
 
 Simon nodded, and a, few moments of silence 
 followed. 
 
 "Tell me honestly," demanded Ned at last, 
 "have you actually no clue at all? No suspicion 
 of any kind? Haven't you got on the track of 
 any possible reason for the deed?" 
 
 "Reason?" repeated Simon. "Now we come 
 to business, Mr. Cromarty. What's the motive? 
 That's the point." 
 
 "Have you found one?" 
 
 Simon looked judicially discreet. 
 
 "At this moment all I can tell you is to answer 
 the question: 'Who benefits by Sir Reginald 
 Cromarty 's death?' " 
 
 "Well who did? Seems to me every one who 
 knew him suffered." 
 
 "Sentimentally perhaps but not financially." 
 
 Ned looked at him in silence, as if an entirely 
 new point of view were dawning on his mind. 
 But he compressed his lips and merely asked: 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "To begin with, nothing was stolen from the 
 house. Therefore no outside thief or burglar 
 gained anything. I may add also that the police
 
 118 SIMON 
 
 have made enquiries throughout the whole county, 
 and no bad characters are known to be in the 
 place. Therefore there is no ground for suppos- 
 ing the deed was the work of a robber, and to 
 my mind, no evidence worth considering to sup- 
 port that view. The only people that gained 
 anything, Mr. Cromarty, are those who will ben- 
 efit under Sir Reginald's will." 
 
 Cromarty's expression did not change again. 
 This was evidently the new point of view. 
 
 Simon opened a drawer and took from it a 
 document. 
 
 "In the ordinary course of events Sir Regi- 
 nald's will would not be known till after his 
 funeral to-morrow, but if I may regard this con- 
 versation as confidential, I can tell you the prin- 
 cipal facts so far as they affect this case.'* 
 
 "I don't want you to do anything you 
 shouldn't," said Ned quickly. "If it's not the 
 proper game to read the will now, don't." 
 
 But Silent Simon seemed determined to oblige 
 this morning. 
 
 "It is a mere matter of form delaying till to- 
 morrow, and I shall not read it now ; merely tell 
 you the pertinent facts briefly." 
 
 "Fire away then. The Lord knows I want to 
 learn every derned pertinent fact want to 
 badly!" 
 
 "In the first place," the lawyer began, "Lady 
 Cromarty is life rented in the mansion and prop- 
 erty, less certain sums to be paid to other people, 
 which I am coming to. She therefore lost her
 
 THE QUESTION OF MOTIVE 119 
 
 husband and a certain amount of income, and 
 gained nothing that we know of." 
 
 "That's a cold-blooded way of putting it," said 
 Ned with something like a shiver. "However, 
 what next?" 
 
 "Sir Malcolm gets 1,000 a year to support 
 him during the life time of Lady Cromarty, and 
 afterwards falls heir to the whole estate. He 
 therefore gains a baronetcy and 1,000 a year 
 immediately, and the estate is brought a stage 
 nearer him. Miss Farmond gets a legacy of 
 2,000. She therefore gained 2,000." 
 
 "Not that she'll need it," said Ned quickly. 
 "That item doesn't count." 
 
 Simon looked at him curiously. 
 
 "Why not?" he enquired. 
 
 Ned hesitated a moment. 
 
 "Perhaps I oughtn't to have said anything," 
 he said, "but this conversation is confidential, and 
 anyhow the fact will be known soon enough now, 
 I guess. She is engaged to Sir Malcolm." 
 
 For a moment Simon continued to look at him 
 very hard. Then he merely said : 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "Of course you won't repeat this till they care 
 to make it known themselves. I told you so that 
 you'd see a legacy of two thousand pounds 
 wouldn't count much. It only means an income 
 of what?" 
 
 "One hundred pounds at five per cent; eighty 
 pounds at four." 
 
 "Well, that will be neither here nor there now."
 
 120 SIMON 
 
 Again Simon stared in silence for a moment, 
 but rather through than at his visitor, it seemed. 
 Then he glanced down at the document again. 
 
 "James Bisset gets a legacy of three hundred 
 pounds. There are a few smaller legacies to 
 servants, but the only two that might have affect- 
 ed this case do not actually do so. One is John 
 Robertson, Sir Reginald's chauffeur, but on the 
 night of the crime he was away from home and 
 an alibi can be established till two in the morning. 
 The other is Donald Mackay, the gardener, but 
 he is an old man and was in bed with rheumatism 
 that night." 
 
 "I see," observed Ned, "y u are giving every- 
 body mentioned in the will credit for perhaps 
 having committed the murder, supposing it was 
 physically possible?" 
 
 "I am answering the question who that could 
 conceivably have committed it, had a motive for 
 doing so? And also, what wajs that motive?" 
 
 "Is that the whole list of them?" 
 
 Mr. Rattar glanced at the will again. 
 
 "Sir Reginald has cancelled your own debt of 
 twelve hundred pounds, Mr. Cromarty." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Ned, and for a moment 
 could say no more. Then he said in a low voice : 
 "It's up to me more than ever!" 
 
 "That is the full list of persons within the vicin- 
 ity two nights ago who gained by Sir Reginald's 
 death," said Simon in a dry voice, as he put away 
 the will. 
 
 "Including me ?" said Ned. "Well, all I've got
 
 THE QUESTION OF MOTIVE 121 
 
 to say is this, Mr. Rattar, that my plain common 
 sense tells me that those are no motives at all. 
 For who knew what they stood to gain by 
 this will? Or that they stood to gain any blessed 
 thing at all? I hadn't the foggiest notion Sir 
 Reginald meant to cancel that debt!" 
 
 "You may not have known," said Simon still 
 very drily, "and it is quite possible that Bisset 
 may not have known of his legacy. Though, on 
 the other hand, it is likely enough that Sir Reg- 
 inald mentioned the fact that he would be remem- 
 bered. But Lady Cromarty presumably knew 
 his arrangements. And it is most unlikely that 
 he should have said nothing to his heir about his 
 intention to make him an adequate allowance if 
 he came into the title and Lady Cromarty was 
 still alive and life rented in the place. Also, it is 
 highly probable that either Sir Reginald or Lady 
 Cromarty told Miss Farmond that some provision 
 would be made for her." 
 
 Ned Cromarty said nothing for a few moments, 
 but he seemed to be thinking very hard. Then he 
 rose from his chair and remarked: 
 
 "Well, I guess this has all got to be thought 
 over." 
 
 He moved slowly to the door, while Simon 
 gazed silently into space. His hand was on the 
 handle when the lawyer turned in his chair and 
 asked : 
 
 "Why was nothing said about Sir Malcolm's 
 engagement to Miss Farmond?" 
 
 "Well," said Ned, "the whole thing is no busi-
 
 SIMON 
 
 ness of mine, but Sir Reginald had pretty big 
 ideas in some ways and probably one of them was 
 connected with his heir's marriage." 
 
 "A clandestine engagement then?" 
 
 Ned Cromarty seemed to dislike the term. 
 
 "It's none of my business," he said shortly. 
 "There was no blame on anyone, anyhow; and 
 mind you, this is absolutely confidential." 
 
 The door closed behind him and Simon was left 
 still apparently thinking.
 
 XV 
 
 TWO WOMEN 
 
 ON the day after the funeral Lady Cromarty 
 for the first time felt able to see the family law- 
 yer. Simon Rattar came out in the morning in 
 a hired car and spent more than a couple of hours 
 with her. Then for a short time he was closeted 
 with Sir Malcolm, who, referring to the interview 
 afterwards, described him as "infernally close and 
 unsatisfactory" ; and finally, in company with the 
 young baronet and Cicely Farmond, he ate a hur- 
 ried lunch and departed. 
 
 Ever since the fatal evening, Lady Cromarty 
 had been shut up in her own apartments and the 
 two young people had taken their meals together. 
 Sir Malcolm at his brightest and best had been 
 capricious company. He was now moody beyond 
 all Cicely's experience of him. His newborn sol- 
 emnity was the most marked feature of his de- 
 meanour, but sometimes it dissolved into pathetic 
 demands for sympathy, and then again froze into 
 profound and lugubrious silence. He said that he 
 was sleeping badly, and the pallor of his face and 
 the darkness beneath his eyes seemed to confirm 
 this. Several times he appeared to be on the point 
 of some peculiarly solemn disclosure of his feel- 
 
 123
 
 SIMON 
 
 ings or his symptoms, but always ended by up- 
 braiding his fellow guest for her lack of sym- 
 pathy, and then relapsing into silence. 
 
 Every now and then on such occasions Cicely 
 caught him staring at her with an expression she 
 had never seen before, and then looking hurriedly 
 away ; a disconcerting habit that made her own lot 
 none the easier. So far as the observant Bisset 
 could judge, the baronet seemed, indeed, to be 
 having so depressing an effect upon the young 
 lady that as her friend and counsellor he took the 
 liberty of advising a change of air. 
 
 "We'll miss you vera much, Miss Farmond," 
 he was good enough to say, "but I'm thinking that 
 what you want is a seaside resort." 
 
 She smiled a little sadly. 
 
 "I shall have to make a change very soon, Bis- 
 set," she said. "Indeed, perhaps I ought to have 
 let Lady Cromarty know already that I was 
 ready to go the moment I was sure I could do 
 nothing more for her." 
 
 She began her packing on the morning of 
 Simon's visit. At lunch her air was a little livelier 
 at first, as if even Simon Rattar were a welcome 
 variety in a regime of undiluted baronet. Sir 
 Malcolm, too, endeavoured to do the honours 
 with some degree of cheerfulness; but short 
 though the meal was, both were silent before the 
 end and vaguely depressed afterwards. 
 
 "I can't stand the old fellow's fishy eye!" de- 
 clared Sir Malcolm. "I'd as soon lunch with a 
 codfish, dash it! Didn't you feel it too, Cicely?"
 
 TWO WOMEN 125 
 
 "He seemed to look at one so uncomfortably," 
 she agreed. "I couldn't help feeling he had some- 
 thing on his mind against me, though I suppose 
 he really doesn't trouble his head about my exist- 
 ence." 
 
 "I'm hanged if I like the way he looks at me!" 
 muttered the baronet, and once again Cicely 
 caught that odd expression in his eye. 
 
 That afternoon Bisset informed Miss Far- 
 mond that her ladyship desired to see her. Lady 
 Cromarty's face looked thinner than ever and her 
 lips more tightly compressed. In her deep 
 mourning and with her grave air, she seemed to 
 Cicely a monumental figure of tragedy. Her 
 thinness and pallor and tight lips, she thought 
 only natural, but there was one note that seemed 
 discordant with pure desolation. The note was 
 sounded by Lady Cromarty's eyes. At all times 
 they had been ready to harden upon an occasion, 
 but Cicely thought she had never seen them as 
 hard as they were now. 
 
 "What are your plans, Cicely?" she asked in a 
 low, even voice that showed no feeling one way 
 or the other. 
 
 "I have begun to pack already," said the girl. 
 "I don't want to leave so long as I can be of any 
 use here, but I am ready to go at any time." 
 
 She had expected to be asked where she was 
 going, but Lady Cromarty instead of putting any 
 question, looked at her for a few moments in 
 silence. And it was then that a curious uncom- 
 fortable feeling began to possess the girl. It had
 
 126 SIMON 
 
 no definite form and was founded on no reason, 
 beyond the steady regard of those hard dark 
 eyes. 
 
 "I had rather you stayed." 
 
 Cicely's own eves showed her extreme surprise. 
 
 "Stayed here?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But are you sure? Wouldn't you really 
 rather be alone? It isn't for my sake, is it? be- 
 cause " 
 
 "It is for mine. I want you to remain here and 
 keep me company." 
 
 She spoke without a trace of smile or any soft- 
 ening of her face, and Cicely still hesitated. 
 
 "But would it really be convenient? You have 
 been very kind to me, and if you really want me 
 here" 
 
 "I do," interrupted Lady Cromarty in the 
 same even voice. "I want you particularly to 
 remain." 
 
 "Very well then, I shall. Thank you very 
 much " 
 
 Again she was cut short. 
 
 "That is settled then. Perhaps you will ex- 
 cuse me now, Cicely." 
 
 The girl went downstairs very thoughtfully. 
 At the foot the young baronet met her. 
 
 "Have you settled where to go?" he asked. 
 
 "Lady Cromartylhas asked me to stay on with 
 her." 
 
 His face fell.
 
 TWO WOMEN 127 
 
 "Stay on in this house of mourning? Oh, no, 
 Cicely!" 
 
 "I have promised," she said. 
 
 The young man grew curiously agitated. 
 
 "Oh, don't stay here!" he besought her. "It 
 keeps me in such dreadful suspense !" 
 
 "In suspense!" she exclaimed. "Whatever do 
 you mean, Malcolm?" 
 
 Again she saw that look in his eye, and again 
 he raised a sympathy-beseeching wail. Cicely's 
 patience began to give way. 
 
 "Really, Malcolm!" she cried tartly, "if you 
 have anything to say, say it, but don't go on like 
 a baby!" 
 
 "Like a baby!" repeated the deeply affronted 
 baronet. "Heavens, would you liken me to that, 
 of all things! I had meant to confide in you, 
 Cicely, but you have made it impossible. Impos- 
 sible!" he repeated sombrely, and stalked to the 
 door. 
 
 Next morning, Sir Malcolm left for London, 
 his confidence still locked in his breast, and Cicely 
 was alone with Lady Cromarty.
 
 XVI 
 
 RUMOUR 
 
 ONE windy afternoon a man on a bicycle strug- 
 gled up to the door of Stanesland Castle and 
 while waiting for an answer to his ring, studied 
 the front of that ancient building with an expres- 
 sion which would at once have informed his inti- 
 mates that he was meditating on the principles 
 of Scottish baronial architecture. A few minutes 
 later Mr. Bisset was shown into the laird of 
 Stanesland's smoking room and addressed Mr. 
 Cromarty with a happy blend of consciousness of 
 his own importance and respect for the laird's. 
 
 "I have taken the liberty of calling, sir, for to 
 lay before you a few fresh datas." 
 
 "Fire away," said the laird. 
 
 "In the first place, sir, I understand that you 
 have been making enquiries through the county 
 yourself, sir; is that not so?" 
 
 "I've been through this blessed county, Bisset, 
 from end to end to see whether I could get on the 
 track of any suspicious stranger. I've been work- 
 ing both with the police and independent of the 
 police, and I've drawn blank." 
 
 Bisset looked distinctly disappointed. 
 
 "I've heard, sir, one or two stories which I was 
 hoping might have something in them." 
 
 128
 
 RUMOUR 129 
 
 "I've heard about half a dozen and gone into 
 them all, and there's nothing in one of them." 
 
 "Half a dozen stories?" Bisset's eye began to 
 look hopeful again. "Well, sir, perhaps if I was 
 to go into some of them again in the light of my 
 fresh datas, they might wear, as it were, a dif- 
 ferent aspect." 
 
 "Well," said Ned. "What have you found? 
 Have a cigar and let's hear what you've been at." 
 
 The expert crackled the cigar approvingly be- 
 tween his fingers, lit it with increased approval, 
 and began: 
 
 "Yon man was behind the curtains all the 
 time." 
 
 "The devil he was ! How do you know ?" 
 
 "Well, sir, it's a matter of deduction. Ye see 
 supposing he came in by the door, there are ob- 
 jections, and supposing he came in by the windie 
 there are objections. Either way there are ob- 
 jections which make it difficult for to accept those 
 theories. And then it struck me the man must 
 have been behind the curtains all the while!" 
 
 "He must have come either by the door or win- 1 
 dow to get there." 
 
 "That's true, Mr. Cromarty. But such minor 
 points we can consider in a wee while, when we 
 have seen how everything is otherwise explained. 
 Now supposing we have the murderer behind the 
 curtains ; that brings him within six feet of where 
 the wee table was standing. How did he get Sir 
 Reginald to come to the table? He made some 
 kind of sound. What kind of sound? Some
 
 130 SIMON 
 
 imitation of an animal ; probably of a cat. How 
 did Sir Reginald not cry out when he saw the 
 man? Because he never did see the man! How 
 did he not see him?" 
 
 "Man was a ventriloquist and made a sound in 
 the other direction," suggested Ned with extreme 
 gravity. 
 
 "God, but that's possible, Mr. Cromarty! I 
 hadna thought of that! Well, it'll fit into the 
 facts all right, you'll see. My theory was that 
 either the man threw something at the master and 
 knocked him down that way, or he was able to 
 reach out and give him a bat on the heid without 
 moving from the curtains." 
 
 "He must have been an awkward customer." 
 
 "He was that! A great tall man with long 
 arms. And what had he at the end of them? 
 Either a club such as savages use or something 
 to throw like a boomerang. And he could imitate 
 animals, and as you say, he was probably a ven- 
 triloquist. And he was that active and strong 
 he could get into the house through one of the 
 windies, just like a great monkey. Now what's 
 the history of that man ?" 
 , "Pretty wild, I guess." 
 
 "Ah, but one can say more than that, sir. He 
 was not an ordinary Englishman or Scotchman. 
 He was from the Colonies or America or one of 
 thae wild places! Is that not a fair deduction, 
 sir?" 
 
 "It all points to that," said Ned, with a curious 
 look.
 
 RUMOUR 131 
 
 "It points to that indeed, sir. Now where's he 
 hidden himself ? It should not be difficult to find 
 him with all that to go on." 
 
 "A tall active strong man who has lived in the 
 Colonies or America ; one ought to get him. Has 
 he only one eye, by any chance?" 
 
 The reasoner gazed petrified at his counsellor. 
 
 "God, but I've just described yourself sir!" 
 he cried in an unhappy voice. 
 
 "You're determined to hang one of us, Bisset." 
 
 For a moment Bisset seemed to find conversa- 
 tion difficult. Then he said miserably : 
 
 "So it's no good, and all the alternatives just 
 fa' to pieces." 
 
 The extreme dejection of his voice struck the 
 other sharply. 
 
 "Alternatives to what?" he asked. 
 
 For a few seconds Bisset did not answer. 
 
 "What's on your mind, man?" demanded Cro- 
 marty. 
 
 "The reason, sir, I've got that badly off the 
 rails with my deductions is just that I had to find 
 some other theory than the story that's going 
 about." 
 
 "What story?" 
 
 "You've no heard it, sir?" 
 
 Ned shook his head. 
 
 "I hardly like to repeat it, sir; it's that cruel 
 and untrue. They're saying Sir Malcolm and 
 Miss Farmond had got engaged to be married." 
 
 "Well?" said Ned sharply, and he seemed to 
 control his feelings with an effort.
 
 132 SIMON 
 
 "A secret engagement, like, that Sir Reginald 
 would never have allowed. But there I think 
 they're right, sir. Sir Reginald was unco' taken 
 up with Miss Farmond, but he'd have looked 
 higher for his heir. And so as they couldn't get 
 married while he was alive neither of them hav- 
 ing any money, well, sir, this story says ' 
 
 He broke off and neither spoke for an instant. 
 
 "Good God!" murmured Cromarty. "They 
 actually accuse Malcolm Cromarty and Miss 
 Cicely of?" 
 
 He paused too, and Bisset nodded. 
 
 "Who is saying this?" 
 
 "It seems to be the clash of the haill country 
 by this time, sir." 
 
 He seemed a little frightened at the effect of 
 his own words; and it was small w r onder. Ned 
 Cromarty was a nasty looking customer at that 
 moment. 
 
 "Who started the lie?" 
 
 "It's just ignorance and want of education 
 of the people, I'm thinking, Mr. Cromarty. 
 They're no able to grasp the proper principles 
 
 "Lady Cromarty must be told ! She could put 
 a stop to it- 
 Something in Bisset's look pulled him up 
 sharply. 
 
 "I'm afraid her ladyship believes it herself, sir. 
 Maybe you have heard she has keepit Miss Far- 
 mond to stay on with her." 
 
 "I have."' 
 
 "Well, sir," said Bisset very slowly and delib-
 
 RUMOUR 133 
 
 erately, "I'm thinking it's just to watch her." 
 
 Ned Cromarty had been smoking a pipe. 
 There was a crack now as his teeth went through 
 the mouthpiece. He flung the pipe into the fire, 
 jumped up, and began pacing the room without 
 a word or a glance at the other. At last he 
 stopped as abruptly as he had started. 
 
 "This slander has got to be stopped!" 
 
 And then he paced on. 
 
 "Just what I was saying to myself, sir. It was 
 likely a wee thing of over anxiety to stop it that 
 made me think o' the possibility of a wild man 
 from America, which was perhaps a bit beyond 
 the limits of what ye might call, as it were, scien- 
 tific deduction." 
 
 "When did Lady Cromarty begin to take up 
 this attitude?" 
 
 "Well, the plain truth is, sir, that her ladyship 
 has been keeping sae much to herself that it's not 
 rightly possible to tell what's been in her mind. 
 But it was the afternoon when Mr. Rattar had 
 been at the house that she sent for Miss Far- 
 mond and tellt her then she was wanting her to 
 stop on." 
 
 "That would be after she knew the contents of 
 the will! I wonder if the idea had entered her 
 head before, or if the will alone started it? Old 
 Simon would never start such a scandal himself 
 about his best client. He knows too well which 
 side his bread is buttered for that ! But he might 
 have talked his infernal jargon about the motive 
 and the people who stood to gain by the death.
 
 134 SIMON 
 
 That might have been enough to set her sus- 
 picions off." 
 
 "Or I was thinking maybe, sir, it was when her 
 ladyship heard of the engagement." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Ned, stopping suddenly 
 again, "that's possible. When did she hear?" 
 
 Bisset shook his head. 
 
 "That beats me again, sir. Her own maid 
 likely has been telling her things the time we've 
 not been seeing her." 
 
 "Did the maid or did you know about the en- 
 gagement?" 
 
 "Servants are uneducated creatures," said Bis- 
 set contemptuously. "And women at the best 
 have just the ae' thought who's gaun to be fool 
 enough to marry next? They were always gos- 
 siping about Mr. Malcolm and Miss Cicely, Imfc 
 there was never what I should call a data to 
 found a deduction on; not for a sensible person. 
 I never believed it myself, but it's like enough her 
 ladyship may have suspected it for a while back." 
 
 "I suppose Lady Cromarty has been nearly 
 distracted ?" 
 
 "Very near, sir." 
 
 "That's her only excuse. But the story is such 
 obvious nonsense, Bisset, that surely no one in 
 their proper senses really believes it?" 
 
 The philosopher shook a wise head. 
 
 "I have yet to learn, Mr. Cromarty, what folks 
 will not believe." 
 
 "They've got to stop believing this!" said Ned 
 emphatically.
 
 XVII 
 
 A SUGGESTION 
 
 NEXT morning Simon Rattar was again in- 
 formed that Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland wished 
 to see him, and again the announcement seemed 
 to be unwelcome. He was silent for several sec- 
 onds before answering, and when he allowed Mr. 
 Cromarty to be shown in, it was with an air which 
 suggested the getting over a distasteful business 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Cromarty?" he grunted brusquely. 
 
 Mr. Cromarty never beat about the bush. 
 
 "I've come to see you about this scandalous 
 story that's going round." 
 
 The lawyer glanced at the papers he had been 
 busy with, as if to indicate that they were of more 
 importance than scandals. 
 
 "What story?" he enquired. 
 
 "That Sir Malcolm and Miss Farmond were 
 concerned in Sir Reginald's murder." 
 
 There was something compelling in Ned's di- 
 rectness. Simon pushed aside the papers and 
 looked at him fixedly. 
 
 "Oh," he said. "They say that, do they?" 
 
 "Haven't you heard?" 
 
 Simon's grunt was non-committal. 
 
 "Well anyway, this derned story is going 
 
 135
 
 136 SIMON 
 
 about, and something's got to be done to stop it." 
 
 "What do you suggest?'* 
 
 "Are you still working the case for all you 
 know how?" 
 
 Simon seemed to resent this enquiry a little. 
 
 "I am the Procurator Fiscal. The police make 
 the actual enquiries. They have done everything 
 they could." 
 
 'They have done' ? Do you mean that they 
 have stopped looking for the murderer?" 
 
 "Certainly not. They are still enquiring; not 
 that it is likely to be much further use." 
 
 There seemed to be a sardonic note in his last 
 words that deepened Cromarty's frown and kin- 
 dled his eye. 
 
 "You mean to suggest that any conclusion has 
 been reached?" 
 
 "Nothing is absolutely certain," said Simon. 
 
 Again the accent on the "absolutely" seemed to 
 rouse his visitor's ire. 
 
 "You believe this story, do you?" 
 
 "If I believed it, I should order an arrest. I 
 have just told you nothing is absolutely certain." 
 
 "Look here," said Cromarty, "I don't want to 
 crab Superintendent Sutherland or his men, but 
 you want to get somebody better than them on to 
 this job." 
 
 Though the Procurator Fiscal kept his feelings 
 well in hand, it was evident that this suggestion 
 struck him more unfavourably than anything his 
 visitor had said yet. He even seemed for one in- 
 stant to be a little startled by its audacity.
 
 A SUGGESTION 137 
 
 "I disagree," he muttered. 
 
 "Now don't you take offence, Mr. Rattar," 
 said Ned with a sudden smile. "I'm not aiming 
 this at you, but, hang it, you know as well as I 
 do that Sutherland is no great shakes at detec- 
 tion. They are all just country bobbies. What 
 we want is a London detective." 
 
 Simon seemed to have recovered his equanim- 
 ity during this speech. He shook his head em- 
 phatically, but his voice was as dispassionately 
 brusque as ever. 
 
 "London detective? Much over-rated people, 
 I assure you. No use in a case of this kind." 
 
 "The very kind of case a real copper-bottomed 
 expert would be some use in!" 
 
 "You are thinking of detectives in stories, Mr. 
 Cromarty. The real men are no better than 
 Sutherland not a bit. I believe in Sutherland. 
 Better man than he looks. Very shrewd, most 
 painstaking. Couldn't have a better man. Use- 
 less expense getting a man from London." 
 
 "Don't you trouble about the expense, Mr. 
 Rattar. That can be arranged all right. I want 
 a first class man engaged." 
 
 The sudden glance which the lawyer shot at 
 him, struck Ned as unusual in his experience of 
 Simon Rattar. He appeared to be startled again, 
 and yet it was not mere annoyance that seemed 
 to show for the fraction of a second in his eye. 
 And then the next instant the man's gaze was as 
 cold and steady as ever. He pursed his lips and 
 considered his answer in silence before he spoke.
 
 138 SIMON 
 
 "You are a member of the family, Mr. Cro- 
 marty; the actual head of it, in fact, I believe." 
 
 "Going by pedigrees, I believe I am, but being 
 a member is reason enough for my wanting to get 
 daylight through this business and seeing some- 
 body swing for it!" 
 
 "What if you made things worse?" 
 
 "Worse ! How could they be ?" 
 
 "Mr. Cromarty, I am the Procurator Fiscal 
 in charge of this case. But I am also lawyer and 
 factor to the Cromarty family, and my father was 
 before me. If there was evidence enough clear 
 and proper evidence to convict any person of 
 this crime, it would be my duty as Procurator 
 Fiscal to convict them. But there is no definite 
 evidence, as you know yourself. All we can do, 
 if we push this matter too far, is to make a family 
 scandal public. Are you as the head of the Cro- 
 marty family, and I as their factor, to do this?" 
 
 It was difficult to judge with what feelings 
 Ned Cromarty heard this deliberate statement 
 and appeal. His mouth was as hard as the law- 
 yer's and his eye revealed nothing. 
 
 "Then you propose to hush the thing up?" 
 
 "I said nothing about hushing up. I propose" 
 to wait till I get some evidence, Mr. Cromarty. 
 It is a little difficult perhaps for a layman to real- 
 ise what evidence means, but I can tell you and 
 any lawyer, or any detective, would tell you 
 we have nothing that can be called evidence yet." 
 
 "And you won't get any till you call in some- 
 body a cut above Sutherland."
 
 A SUGGESTION 139 
 
 "The scent is too cold by this time " 
 
 "Who let it cool?" interrupted Ned. 
 
 For a moment the lawyer's eyes looked un- 
 pleasant. 
 
 "Every effort was made to find a clue; by 
 yourself as well as by the police. And let me 
 tell you, Mr. Cromarty, that our efforts have not 
 been as fruitless as you seem to think." 
 
 "What have we discovered?" 
 
 "In the first place that there was no robbery 
 committed and no sign of anybody having en- 
 tered the house from the outside." 
 
 Ned shook his head. 
 
 "That's a lot too strong. I believe the man did 
 come in by the window." 
 
 "You admit there is no proof?" 
 
 "Sure," said Ned candidly. "I quite admit 
 there is no proof of anything yet." 
 
 "No robbery, no evidence of anyone having 
 come in by the window " 
 
 "No proof," corrected Ned. "I maintain that 
 the window being unsnibbed and that mud on the 
 floor and the table near the window being upset 
 is evidence ; but not proof positive." 
 
 Simon's patience had by this time become ex- 
 emplary. His only wish seemed to be to convince 
 by irresistible argument this obstinate objector. 
 It struck the visitor, moreover, that in this effort 
 the lawyer was displaying a fluency not at all 
 characteristic of silent Simon. 
 
 "Well, let us leave it at that. Suppose there 
 be a possibility that entry was actually made by
 
 140 SIMON 
 
 the window. It is a bare possibility against the 
 obvious and easy entrance by the door, near 
 which, remember, the body was found. Then, 
 as I have pointed out, there was no robbery, and 
 not a trace has been found of anybody outside 
 that house with a motive for the crime." 
 
 "Except me." 
 
 "Unless you care to except yourself. But 
 neither you nor the police have found any bad 
 characters in the place." 
 
 "That's true enough," Ned admitted reluc- 
 tantly. 
 
 "On the other hand, there were within the 
 house two people with a very strong motive for, 
 committing the crime." 
 
 "I deny that!" cried Ned with a sudden gleam 
 of ferocity in his eye that seemed to disconcert 
 the lawyer. 
 
 "Deny it? You can scarcely deny that two 
 young people, in love with one another and 
 secretly engaged, with no money, and no chance 
 of getting married, stood to gain everything they 
 wanted by a death that gave them freedom to 
 marry, a baronetcy, a thousand a year, and two 
 thousand in cash besides?" 
 
 "Damn it, Mr. Rattar, is the fact that a farmer 
 benefits by a shower any evidence that he has 
 turned on the rain?" 
 
 "I have repeatedly said, Mr. Cromarty, that 
 there is no definite evidence to convict anybody. 
 But nothing would have been easier than making 
 an end of Sir Reginald Cromarty, to anybody
 
 A SUGGESTION 141 
 
 inside that house whom he would never suspect 
 till they struck the blow. All the necessary con- 
 ditions are fulfilled by this view of the case, 
 whereas every other view every other view, mind 
 you, Mr. Cromarty is confronted with these dif- 
 ficulties : no robbery, no definite evidence of en- 
 try, no explanation of Sir Reginald's extraordi- 
 nary silence when the man appeared, no bad 
 characters in the neighbourhood, and, above all, 
 no motive." 
 
 At the end of this speech Simon shut his mouth 
 tight and leaned back in his chair. For a moment 
 it seemed as though Ned Cromarty was impressed 
 by the lawyer's view of the case. But \vhen he 
 replied, his voice, though deliberate had a fighting 
 ring in it, and his single eye, a fighting light. 
 
 "Then you propose to leave this young couple 
 under the most damnable cloud of suspicion that 
 a man and a woman could lie under simply 
 leave 'em there, and let that be the end of it?" 
 
 Simon seemed to be divided between distaste 
 for this way of putting the case, and anxiety still 
 to convince his visitor. 
 
 "I propose to avoid the painful family scandal 
 which further disclosures and more publicity 
 would almost certainly bring about ; so long as I 
 am justified as Procurator Fiscal in taking this 
 course. And until I get more evidence, I am not 
 only justified but forced to take this course.'* 
 
 Ned suddenly jumped to his feet. 
 
 "I'm no lawyer," said he, "but to me you seem 
 to be arguing in the damnedest circle I ever met.
 
 SIMON 
 
 You won't do anything because you can't get 
 more evidence. And you won't look for more 
 evidence because you don't want to do anything." 
 
 There was more than a hint of temper in 
 Simon's eye and his answer was rapped out 
 sharply. 
 
 "I certainly do not want to cause a family 
 scandal. I haven't said all I could say about Sir 
 Malcolm if I were pressed." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I've told you. Suspicion is not evidence, but 
 if I do get evidence, those who will suffer by it 
 had better beware !" 
 
 Ned turned at the door and surveyed him with 
 a cool and caustic eye. 
 
 "That's talk," he said, "and something has got 
 to be done" 
 
 He was gone, and Simon Rattar was left 
 frowning at the closed door behind him. The 
 frown remained, but became now rather thought- 
 ful than indignant. Then he sprang up and be- 
 gan to pace the floor, deliberately at first, and 
 then more rapidly and with increasing agitation.
 
 XVIII 
 
 1200 
 
 NED CROMARTY had returned home and was 
 going upstairs, when he heard a voice cry: 
 
 "Ned!" 
 
 The ancient stone stair, spiralling up round the 
 time-worn pillar that seemed to have no begin- 
 ning or end, gave at intervals on to doors which 
 looked like apertures in a cliff. Through one of 
 these he turned and at the end of a brief passage 
 came to his sister's sitting room. In that mediae- 
 val setting of ponderous stone, it looked almost 
 fantastic in its daintiness. It was a small room 
 of many cushions and many colours, its floor 
 covered with the softest rugs and its walls with 
 innumerable photographs, largely of country 
 houses where Miss Cromarty had visited. 
 
 Evidently she was a lady accustomed to a com- 
 fortable life in her roving days, and her sitting 
 room seemed to indicate very distinctly that she 
 proposed to live up to this high standard perma- 
 nently. 
 
 "Oh Neddy dear, I want to talk to you about 
 something," she began in her brisk way and with 
 her brightest smile. 
 
 Her brother, though of a simple nature, was by 
 this time aware that when he was termed "Neddy 
 
 143
 
 144 SIMON 
 
 dear" the conversation was apt to turn on Miss 
 Cromarty's requirements. 
 
 "Well," said he, "how much is the cheque to be 
 this time?" 
 
 "How clever you're getting!" she laughed. 
 "But it isn't a cheque I want this time. It's only 
 a motor car." 
 
 He looked at her doubtfully for a moment. 
 
 "Pulling my leg; or a real car?" 
 
 "Real car of course nice one too!" 
 
 "But, my dear girl, we've just put down our 
 car. You agreed it was necessary." 
 
 "I agreed then; but it isn't necessary now." 
 
 "Have you come into a fortune? I haven't!" 
 
 "You've come into 1200." 
 
 Again he looked at her, and this time his ex- 
 pression changed. 
 
 "That's only a debt wiped out." 
 
 "Well, and your great argument for economy 
 was that you had to pay back that debt. Now 
 you haven't. See, Neddy dear?" 
 
 Her brother began to shake his head, and her 
 smile became a little less bright. 
 
 "I don't want to get my affairs into a tangle 
 again just yet." 
 
 "But they weren't in a bad tangle. Cancelling 
 that debt makes us absolutely all right again. It's 
 absurd for people like us not to have a car ! Look 
 at the distances from our neighbours ! One can't 
 go anywhere. I'll undertake to keep down the 
 household expenses if you get the car." 
 
 Her brother frowned out of the window.
 
 1200 
 
 "No," he said, "it's too soon to get a car again." 
 
 "But you told me you had got part of that 
 1200 in hand and hoped to make up the rest 
 very soon. What are you going to do with the 
 money now?" 
 
 He glanced at her over his shoulder for an in- 
 stant and then his mouth assumed a grim and ob- 
 stinate look she knew too well. 
 
 "I may need the money," he said briefly. "And 
 I'm not much in the mood at this moment for 
 buying things." 
 
 Behind his back Lilian made a little grimace. 
 Then in a tone of sisterly expostulation she said : 
 
 "You are worrying too much over this affair, 
 Ned. You've done all you can " 
 
 He interrupted her brusquely: 
 
 "And it's dashed little ! What have I actually 
 done? Nothing! One needs a better man than 
 me." 
 
 "Well, there's your friend Silent Simon, and 
 all the police " 
 
 "A fat lot of good they are !" said Ned. 
 
 His sister looked a little surprised at his un- 
 usual shortness of temper. To her he was very 
 rarely like this. 
 
 "You need a good day's shooting to take your 
 mind off it for a little," she suggested. 
 
 He turned upon her hotly. 
 
 "Do you know the story that's going about, 
 Lilian?" 
 
 "Sir Malcolm and the Farmond girl? Oh, 
 rather," she nodded.
 
 146 SIMON 
 
 "Is that how it strikes you?" 
 
 Lilian Cromarty jumped. There was some- 
 thing very formidable in her brother's voice. 
 
 "My dear Ned, don't frighten me ! Eat me if 
 you like, but eat me quietly. I didn't say I be- 
 lieved the story." 
 
 "I hope not," he said in the same grim tone, 
 "but do you mean to say it doesn't strike you as 
 the damnedest slander ever spread?" 
 
 "Between myself I hadn't called it the 
 'damnedest' anything. But how do I know 
 whether it's a slander?" 
 
 "You actually think it might conceivably be 
 true?" 
 
 She shrugged her well-gowned shoulders. 
 
 "I never could stand Malcolm Cromarty a 
 conceited little jackanapes. He hasn't a penny 
 and he was head over ears in debt." 
 
 It was his turn to start. 
 
 "Was he?" 
 
 "Oh, rather ! Didn't you know ? Owed monev 
 everywhere." 
 
 "But such a crime as that!" 
 
 "A man with ties and hair like his is capable 
 of anything. You know quite well yourself he is 
 a rotter." 
 
 "Anyhow you can't believe Cicely Farmond 
 had anything to do with it?" 
 
 Again she shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "My dear Ned, I'm not a detective. A pretty 
 face is no proof a woman is a saint. I told you
 
 1200 147 
 
 before that there was generally something in the 
 blood in those cases." 
 
 As he stared at her, it seemed as though her 
 words had indeed rushed back to his memory, 
 and that they hit him hard. 
 
 "People don't say that, do they?" he asked in 
 a low voice. 
 
 "Really, Ned, I don't know everything people 
 say: but they are not likely to overlook much in 
 such a case." 
 
 He stood for a moment in silence. 
 
 "She I mean they've both got to be 
 cleared!" he said, and strode out of the room.
 
 XIX 
 
 THE EMPTY COMPARTMENT 
 
 IT was on this same evening that Superintend- 
 ent Sutherland was almost rewarded for his vigil- 
 ance by having something distinctly suspicious to 
 report. As it happened, it proved a disappoint- 
 ing incident, but it gave the superintendent some- 
 thing to think about. 
 
 He was going a few stations down the line to 
 investigate a rumour of a suspicious person seen 
 in that neighbourhood. It was a vague and im- 
 probable rumour and the superintendent was set- 
 ting out merely as a matter of form, and to dem- 
 onstrate his vigilance and almost abnormal sense 
 of duty. Darkness had already fallen for an 
 hour or two when he strode with dignified gait 
 down the platform, exchanging a greeting with 
 an acquaintance or two, till he came to the front 
 carriage of the train. He threw open the door of 
 the rear compartment, saw that it was empty, 
 and was just going to enter when glancing over 
 his shoulder he perceived his own cousin Mr. 
 MacAlister upon the platform. Closing the door, 
 he stepped down again and greeted him. 
 
 Mr. MacAlister hailed him with even more 
 than usual friendliness, and after a few polite 
 preliminaries drew him insidiously towards the 
 
 148
 
 THE EMPTY COMPARTMENT 149 
 
 far side of the platform. An intelligent, invet- 
 erate and persevering curiosity was Mr. Mac- 
 Alister's dominating characteristic, and as soon 
 as he had got his distinguished kinsman out of 
 earshot of the herd, he inquired in a hushed voice : 
 
 "And what's doing aboot the murder noo, 
 George?" 
 
 The superintendent pursed his lips and shook 
 his head. 
 
 "Aye, man, yon's a proper puzzle," said he. 
 
 "But you'll have gotten a guid idea whae's 
 din it by noo, George?" said Mr. MacAlister 
 persuasively. 
 
 "Weel," admitted the superintendent, we 
 maybe have our notions, but there's no evidence 
 yet, Robbie; that's the fair truth. As the fiscal 
 says, there's no evidence." 
 
 "I'd like fine to hae a crack wi' you aboot it, 
 George," sighed Mr. MacAlister. "I may tell 
 you I've notions of ma own; no bad notions 
 either." 
 
 "Well," said the superintendent, moving off, 
 "I'd have enjoyed a crack myself if it wasna that 
 I've got to be off by this train " 
 
 "Man!" cried his kinsman, "I'm for off by her 
 mysel' ! Come on, we'll hae our crack yet." 
 
 The tickets had already been taken and the 
 doors were closed as the two recrossed the plat- 
 form. 
 
 "This carriage is empty," said the superintend- 
 ent, and threw open the door of the same com- 
 partment he had almost entered before.
 
 150 SIMON 
 
 But it was not empty now. In one of the fur- 
 ther corners sat a man wrapped in a dark col- 
 oured ulster. A black felt hat was drawn down 
 over his eyes, and his muffled face was resting on 
 his hand. So much the superintendent saw in the 
 brief moment during which he stood at the open 
 door, and it struck him at once that the man must 
 be suffering from toothache. And then his cousin 
 caught him by the arm and drew him back. 
 
 "Here, man, the carriage next door is empty!" 
 cried he, and the superintendent closed the door 
 and followed him. 
 
 It was scarcely more than a minute later when 
 the whistle blew and they were off, and Mr. Mac- 
 Alister took out his pipe and prepared himself 
 to receive official confidences. But the miles went 
 by, and though he plied his questions incessantly 
 and skilfully, no confidences were forthcoming. 
 The superintendent, in fact, had something else 
 to think about. All at once he asked abruptly: 
 
 ''Robbie, did ye see yon man next door sitting 
 with his face in his hands?" 
 
 "Aye," said Mr. MacAlister, "I noticed the 
 man." 
 
 "Did ye ken who he was?" 
 
 "No," said Mr. MacAlister, "I did not." 
 
 "Had ye seen him on the platform?" 
 
 "No," said Mr. MacAlister, "I had not." 
 
 "I didna see him myself," said the superin- 
 tendent musingly. "It seems funny-like a man 
 dressed like yon and with his face wrapped up 
 too and a man forbye that's a stranger to us
 
 THE EMPTY COMPARTMENT 151 
 
 both, coming along the platform and getting into 
 that carriage, and me not noticing him. I'm not 
 used not to notice people, Robbie." 
 
 "It's your business, George," said Mr. Mac- 
 Alister, and then as he gazed at his cousin's 
 thoughtful face, his own grew suddenly ani- 
 mated. 
 
 "You're not thinking he's to dae wi' the mur- 
 der, are you!" he cried. 
 
 "I'm not sure what to think till I've had an- 
 other look into yon carriage," said the superin- 
 tendent cautiously. 
 
 "We're slowing doon the noo !" cried Mr. Mac- 
 Alister, "God, George, I'll come and hae a look 
 wi' you !" 
 
 The train was hardly in the platform before 
 the superintendent was out, with Mr. MacAlister 
 after him, and the door of the next compartment 
 was open almost as soon as the train was at rest. 
 Never had the superintendent been more vigi- 
 lant; and never had his honest face looked 
 blanker. 
 
 "God! It's empty!" he murmured. 
 
 "God save us!" murmured Mr. MacAlister, 
 and then he was visited by an inspiration which 
 struck his relative afterwards as one of the un- 
 happiest he had ever suffered from. "This canna 
 be the richt carriage!" he cried. "Come on, 
 Geordie, let's hae a look in the ithers!" 
 
 By the time they had looked into all the com- 
 partments of the carriage, the guard was waving 
 his flag and the two men climbed hurriedly in
 
 152 SIMON 
 
 again. The brooding silence of the superintend- 
 ent infected even Mr. MacAlister, and neither 
 spoke for several minutes. Then the superin- 
 tendent said bitterly: 
 
 "It was you hurrying me off to look in thae 
 other carriages, Robbie!" 
 
 "What was?" inquired Mr. MacAlister a little 
 nervously. 
 
 "I ought to have stopped and looked under the 
 seats!" 
 
 Mr. MacAlister shook his head and declared 
 firmly: 
 
 "There was naething under the seats. I could 
 see that fine. And onyhow we can hae a look at 
 the next stop." 
 
 "As if he'll be waiting for us, now he kens we're 
 looking for him!" 
 
 "But there was naething there!" persisted Mr. 
 MacAlister. 
 
 "Then what's come over the man? Here were 
 we sitting next the platform. He can't have got 
 out afore we started, or we'd have seen him. 
 Folks don't disappear into the air! I'll try under 
 the seats, though I doubt the man will have been 
 up and out while we were wasting our time in yon 
 other carriages." 
 
 At the next station they searched that mys- 
 terious compartment earnestly and thoroughly, 
 but there was not a sign of the muffled stranger, 
 under the seats or anywhere else. Again the 
 superintendent was silent for a space, and then he 
 said confidentially:
 
 153 
 
 "I'm just wondering if it's worth while report- 
 ing the thing, Robbie. The fiscal might have a 
 kin' of unpleasant way of looking at it. Besides, 
 there's really naething to report. Anyhow I'll 
 think it over. And that being the case, the less 
 said the better. I can tell ye all that's known 
 about the case, Robbie; knowing that you'll be 
 discreet." 
 
 "Oh, you can trust me," said Mr. MacAlister 
 earnestly, "I'll no breathe a word o' yon man. 
 Weel, now, you were saying you'd tell me the 
 haill story." 
 
 By this judicious arrangement Mr. MacAlister 
 got his money's worth of sensational disclosures, 
 and the superintendent was able to use his discre- 
 tion and think the incident over. He thought 
 over it very hard and finally decided that he was 
 demonstrating his vigilance quite sufficiently 
 without mentioning the trifling mystery of the 
 empty compartment.
 
 XX 
 
 THE SPORTING VISITOR 
 
 IN summer and autumn, visitors were not 
 uncommon in this remote countryside; mostly 
 shooting or fishing people who rented the coun- 
 try houses, raised the local prices, and were de- 
 scribed by the tradesmen as benefiting the county 
 greatly. But in late autumn and winter this 
 fertilising stream ceased to flow, and when the 
 trains from the south crawled in, the porters and 
 the boots from the hotels resigned themselves to 
 welcoming a merely commercial form of trav- 
 eller. 
 
 It was therefore with considerable pleasure and 
 surprise that they observed one afternoon an un- 
 mistakeably sporting gentleman descend from a 
 first class compartment and survey them with a 
 condescending yet aff able eye. 
 
 "Which is the best of these hotels?" he de- 
 manded with an amiable smile, as he surveyed 
 through a single eye-glass the names on the caps 
 of the various boots. 
 
 His engaging air disarmed the enquiry of em- 
 barrassment, and even when he finally selected 
 the Kings Arms Hotel, the other boots merely 
 felt regret that they had not secured so promising 
 a client. His luggage confirmed the first f avour- 
 
 154
 
 THE SPORTING VISITOR 155 
 
 able impression. It included a gun case, a bag of 
 golf clubs, and one or two handsome leather ar- 
 ticles. Evidently he meant to make more than a 
 passing visit, and as he strolled down the plat- 
 form, his leisurely nonchalant air and something 
 even in the way in which he smoked his cigarette, 
 in its amber holder, suggested a gentleman who, 
 having arrived here, was in no hurry to move on. 
 On a luggage label the approving boots noted the 
 name of "F. T. Carrington." 
 
 When he arrived at the Kings Arms, Mr. Car- 
 rington continued to produce favourable impres- 
 sions. He was a young man, apparently a little 
 over thirty, above middle height, with a round, 
 ingenuous, very agreeable face, smooth fair hair, 
 a little, neatly trimmed moustache, and a monocle 
 that lent just the necessary touch of distinction to 
 what might otherwise have been a too good-hu- 
 moured physiognomy. His tweed suit was fash- 
 ionably cut and of a distinctly sportive pattern, 
 and he wore a pair of light spats. In short, there 
 could be no mistaking him for anything but a 
 gentleman of position and leisure with strong 
 sporting proclivities, and his manner amply con- 
 firmed this. It was in fact almost indolent in its 
 leisurely ease. 
 
 Miss Peterkin, the capable manageress of the 
 Kings Arms, was at first disposed to think Mr. 
 Carrington a trifle too superior, and, as she 
 termed it, "la-de-da," but a very few minutes' 
 conversation with the gentleman completely re- 
 assured her. He was so polite and so good-hu-
 
 156 SIMON 
 
 moured and so ready to be pleased with every- 
 thing he saw and anything she suggested, that 
 they became firm friends within ten minutes of 
 his arrival, and after Mr. Carrington had dis- 
 posed of his luggage in the bedroom and private 
 sitting room which he engaged, and partaken of 
 a little dinner, she found herself welcoming him 
 into her own sitting room where a few choice 
 spirits nightly congregated. 
 
 It is true that these spirits, though choice, were 
 hardly of what she called Mr. Carrington's "class," 
 but then in all her experience she had never met a 
 gentleman of such fashion and such a superior 
 air, who adapted himself so charmingly to any 
 society. In fact, "charming" was the very ad- 
 jective for him, she decided. 
 
 About his own business he was perfectly frank. 
 He had heard of the sporting possibilities of the 
 county and had come to look out for a bit of fish- 
 ing or shooting; preferably fishing, for it seemed 
 he was an enthusiastic angler. Of course, it was 
 too late in the season for any fishing this year, 
 but he was looking ahead as he preferred to see 
 things for himself instead of trusting to an 
 agent's description. He had brought his gun just 
 on the chance of getting a day somewhere, and 
 his club in case there happened to be a golf links. 
 In short, he seemed evidently to be a young man 
 of means who lived for sport; and what other 
 question could one ask about such a satisfactory 
 type of visitor? Absolutely none, in Miss Peter- 
 kin's opinion.
 
 THE SPORTING VISITOR 157 
 
 As a matter of fact, she found very early in the 
 evening, and continued to find thereafter, that the 
 most engaging feature of Mr. Carrington's char- 
 acter was the interest he took in other people's 
 business, so that the conversation very quickly 
 strayed away from his own concerns and re- 
 mained away. It was not that he showed any 
 undue curiosity; far from it. He was simply so 
 sympathetic and such a good listener and put 
 questions that showed he was following every- 
 thing you said to him in a w r ay that really very few 
 people did. And, moreover, in spite of his engag- 
 ing frankness, there was an indefinable air of dis- 
 cretion about him that made one feel safe to tell 
 him practically everything. She herself told him 
 the sad story of her brother in Australia (a tale 
 which, as a rule, she told only to her special inti- 
 mates) before he had been in her room half an 
 hour. 
 
 But with the arrival of three or four choice 
 spirits, the conversation became more general, 
 and it was naturally not long before it turned on 
 the greatest local sensation and mystery within 
 the memory of man the Cromarty murder. Mr. 
 Carrington's surprise was extreme when he real- 
 ised that he was actually in the county where the 
 tragedy had occurred, within a very few miles of 
 the actual spot, in fact. Of course, he had read 
 about it in the papers, but only cursorily, it 
 seemed, and he had no idea he was coming into 
 the identical district that had acquired such a 
 sinister notoriety.
 
 158 SIMON 
 
 "By Jove!" he exclaimed more than once when 
 he had made this discovery, "I say, how interest- 
 ing!" 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Peterkin with becoming pride^ 
 "we are getting quite famous, I can assure you, 
 Mr. Carrington." 
 
 "Rather so!" cried he, "I've read quite a lot 
 about this Carnegie case " 
 
 "Cromarty," corrected one of the spirits. 
 
 "Cromarty, of course, I mean! I'm rather an 
 ass at names, I'm afraid." The young man 
 smiled brightly and all the spirits sympathised. 
 "Oh yes, I've seen it reported in the papers. 
 And now to think here I am in the middle of it, 
 by George! How awfully interesting! I say, 
 Miss Peterkin, what about these gentlemen hav- 
 ing another wee droppie with me, all round, just 
 to celebrate the occasion?" 
 
 With such an appreciative and hospitable audi- 
 ence, Miss Peterkin and the choice spirits spent a 
 long and delightful evening in retailing every 
 known circumstance of the drama, and several 
 that were certainly unknown to the authorities. 
 He was vastly interested, though naturally very 
 shocked, to hear who was commonly suspected of 
 the crime. 
 
 "Do you mean to say his own heir and a 
 young girl like that ? By Jove, I say, how 
 dreadful!" he exclaimed, and, in fact, he would 
 hardly believe such a thing conceivable until all 
 the choice spirits in turn had assured him that 
 there was practically no doubt about it.
 
 THE SPORTING VISITOR 159 
 
 The energetic part played by Mr. Simon Rat- 
 tar in unravelling the dark skein, or at least in 
 trying to, was naturally described at some length, 
 and Mr. Carrington showed his usual sympa- 
 thetic, and, one might almost say, entranced ap- 
 preciation of the many facts told him concerning 
 that local celebrity. 
 
 Finally Miss Peterkin insisted on getting out 
 the back numbers of the local paper giving the 
 full details of the case, and with many thanks he 
 took these off to read before he went to bed. 
 
 "But mind you don't give yourself the creeps 
 and keep yourself from going to sleep, Mr. Car- 
 rington!" she warned him with the last words. 
 
 "By Jove, that's an awful thought!" he ex- 
 claimed, and then his eyes twinkled. "Send me 
 up another whisky and soda to cure the creeps!" 
 said he. 
 
 Miss Peterkin thought he was quite one of the 
 pleasantest, and promised to be one of the most 
 profitable gentlemen she had met for a very long 
 time. 
 
 Next morning he assured her he had kept the 
 creeps at bay sufficiently to enjoy an excellent 
 night's sleep in a bed that did the management 
 credit. In fact, he had thoroughly enjoyed read- 
 ing the mystery and had even begun to feel some 
 curiosity to see the scene of the tragedy. He pro- 
 posed to have a few walks and drives through the 
 neighbouring country, he said, looking at its 
 streams and lochs with an eye to sporting possi- 
 bilities, and it would be interesting to be able to
 
 160 SIMON 
 
 recognise Keldale House if he chanced to pass 
 near it. 
 
 Miss Peterkin told him which road led to Kel- 
 dale and how the house might be recognised, and 
 suggested that he should walk out that way this 
 very morning. He seemed a little doubtful; 
 spoke of his movements as things that depended 
 very much on the whim of the moment, just as 
 such an easy-going young man would be apt to 
 do, and rather indicated that a shorter walk would 
 suit him better that morning. 
 
 And then a few minutes later she saw him 
 saunter past her window, wearing a light gray 
 felt hat at a graceful angle and apparently tak- 
 ing a sympathetic interest in a small boy trying 
 to mount a bicycle.
 
 XXI 
 
 MR. CARRINGTON'S WALK 
 
 MR. CARRINGTON'S easy saunter lasted till he 
 had turned out of the street on which the Kings 
 Arms stood, when it passed into an easy walk^ 
 Though he had seemed, on the whole, disinclined 
 to go in the Keldale direction that morning, 
 nevertheless he continued to head that way 
 till at last he was on the high road with the 
 little town behind him ; and then his pace altered 
 again. He stepped out now like the sportsman 
 he was, and was doing a good four miles an hour 
 by the time he was out of sight of the last houses. 
 
 For a man who had come out to gather ideas 
 as to the sporting possibilities of the country, Mr. 
 Carrington seemed to pay singularly little atten- 
 tion to his surroundings. He appeared, in fact, to 
 be thinking about something else all the time, and 
 the first sign of interest he showed in anything 
 outside his thoughts was when he found himself 
 within sight of the lodge gates of Keldale House, 
 with the avenue sweeping away from the road 
 towards the roofs and chimneys amid the trees. 
 At the sight of this he stopped, and leaning over 
 the low wall at the road side gazed with much in- 
 terest at the scene of the tragedy he had heard 
 so much of last night. The choice spirits, had 
 
 161
 
 162 SIMON 
 
 they been there to see, would have been gratified 
 to find that their graphic narratives had sent this 
 indolent looking gentleman to view the spot so 
 swiftly. 
 
 From the house and grounds his eye travelled 
 back to the road and then surveyed the surround- 
 ing country very attentively. He even stood on 
 top of the wall to get a wider view ; and then all 
 of a sudden he jumped down again and adopted 
 the reverse procedure, bending now so that little 
 more than his head appeared above the wall. 
 And the reason for this change of plan appeared 
 to be a figure which had emerged from the trees 
 and began to move along a path between the 
 fields. 
 
 Mr. Carrington studied this figure with con- 
 centrated attention, and as it drew nearer and 
 became more distinct, a light leapt into his eye 
 that gave him a somewhat different expression 
 from any his acquaintances of last night had ob- 
 served. He saw that the path followed a small 
 stream and ran at an angle to the high road, 
 joining it at last at a point some little distance 
 back towards the town. He looked quickly up 
 and down the road. Not a soul was in sight to 
 see his next very curious performance. The leis- 
 urely Mr. Carrington crossed to the further side, 
 where he was invisible from the path, and then set 
 out to run at a rapid pace till he reached the junc- 
 tion of path and road. And then he turned down 
 the path. 
 
 But now his bearing altered again in a very ex-
 
 MR. CARRINGTON'S WALK 163 
 
 traordinary way. His gait fell once more to a 
 saunter and his angling enthusiasm seemed sud- 
 denly to have returned, for he frequently studied 
 the burn as he strolled along, and there was no 
 sign of any thoughtfulness on his ingenuous coun- 
 tenance. There were a few willows beside the 
 path, and the path itself meandered, and this was 
 doubtless thg reason why he appeared entirely 
 unconscious of the approach of another foot pas- 
 senger till they were within a few yards of one 
 another. And then Mr. Carrington stopped sud- 
 denly, seemed to hesitate, pulled out his watch 
 and glanced at it, and then with an apologetic air 
 raised his hat. 
 
 The other foot passenger was face to face with 
 him now, a slim figure in black, with a sweet, seri- 
 ous face. 
 
 "Excuse me," said Mr. Carrington, "but can 
 you tell me where this path leads?" 
 
 He was so polite and so evidently anxious to 
 give no offence, and his face was such a certifi- 
 cate to his amiable character that the girl stopped 
 too and answered without hesitation: 
 
 "It leads to Keldale House." 
 
 "Keldale House?" he repeated, and then the 
 idea seemed to arouse associations. "By Jove!" 
 he exclaimed. "Really? I'm an utter stranger 
 here, but isn't that the place where the murder 
 took place?" 
 
 Had Mr. Carrington been a really observant 
 man, one would think he would have noticed the 
 sudden change of expression in the girl's face as
 
 164 SIMON 
 
 if he had aroused painful thoughts. He did seem 
 to look at her for an instant as he asked the ques- 
 tion, but then turned his gaze towards the distant 
 glimpse of the house. 
 
 "Yes," she murmured and looked as though she 
 wanted to pass on; but Mr. Carrington seemed so 
 excited by his discovery that he never noticed this 
 and still stood right in her path. 
 
 "How very interesting!" he murmured. "By 
 Jove, how very interesting!" And then with the 
 air of passing on a still more interesting piece of 
 news, he said suddenly, "I hear they have arrested 
 Sir Malcolm Cromarty." 
 
 This time he kept his monocle full on her. 
 
 "Arrested him!" she cried. "What for?" 
 
 This question, put with the most palpable won- 
 der, seemed to disconcert Mr. Carrington con- 
 siderably. He even hesitated in a very unusual 
 way for him. 
 
 "For for the murder, of course." 
 
 Her eyes opened very wide. 
 
 "For Sir Reginald's murder? How ridicu- 
 lous!" 
 
 Again Mr. Carrington seemed a little discon- 
 certed. 
 
 "Er why is it ridiculous?" he asked. "Of 
 course, I I know nothing about the gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "Evidently!" she agreed with reproach in her 
 eyes. "If Sir Malcolm really has been arrested, 
 it can only have been for something quite silly. 
 He couldn't commit a murder!"
 
 MR. CARRINGTON'S WALK 165 
 
 The fact that this tribute to the baronet's in- 
 nocence was not wholly devoid of a flavour of 
 criticism seemed to strike Mr. Carrington, for 
 his eye twinkled for an instant. 
 
 "You are acquainted with him then?" said he. 
 
 "I am staying at Keldale; in fact, I am a rela- 
 tion." 
 
 There was no doubt of her intention to rebuke 
 the too garrulous gentleman by this information, 
 and it succeeded completely. He passed at once 
 to the extreme of apology. 
 
 "Oh! I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed. "I 
 had no idea. Really, I hope you will accept my 
 apologies, Miss er Cromarty." 
 
 "Miss Farmond," she corrected. 
 
 "Miss Farmond, I mean. It was frightfully 
 tactless of me!" 
 
 He said it so nicely and looked so innocently 
 guilty and so contrite, that her look lost its touch 
 of indignation. 
 
 "I still can't understand what you mean about 
 Sir Malcolm being arrested," she said. "How did 
 you hear?" 
 
 "Oh, I was very likely misinformed. An old 
 fellow at the hotel last night was saying so." 
 
 Her eye began to grow indignant again. 
 
 "What old fellow?" 
 
 "Red hair, shaky knees, bit of a stammer, an- 
 swers to the name of Sandy, I believe." 
 
 "Old Sandy Donaldson!" she exclaimed. 
 "That drunken old thing! He was simply talk- 
 ing nonsense as usual!"
 
 166 SIMON 
 
 "He seemed a little in liquor," he admitted, 
 "but you see I am a mere stranger. I didn't 
 realise what a loose authority I quoted. There 
 is nothing in the report, I am certain. And this 
 path leads only to Keldale House? Thank you 
 very much. Good morning!" 
 
 How Mr. Carrington had obtained this errone- 
 ous information from a person whose back he 
 had merely seen for a couple of minutes the night 
 before, as the reprobate in question was being 
 ejected from the Kings Arms, he did not stop to 
 explain. In fact, at this point he showed no in- 
 clination to continue the conversation, but bowing 
 very politely, continued his stroll. 
 
 But the effect of the conversation on him re- 
 mained, and a very marked effect it appeared to 
 be. He took no interest in the burn any longer, 
 but paced slowly on, his eyes sometimes on the 
 path and sometimes staring upwards at the 
 Heavens. So far as his face revealed his sensa- 
 tions, they seemed to be compounded of surprise 
 and perplexity. Several times he shook his head 
 as though some very baffling point had cropped 
 up in his thoughts, and once he murmured: 
 
 "I'm damned!" 
 
 When the path reached the policies of the 
 house, he stopped and seemed to take some in- 
 terest in his surroundings once more. For a mo- 
 ment it was clear that he was tempted to enter 
 the plantations, and then he shook his head and 
 turned back. 
 
 All the way home he remained immersed in
 
 MR. CARRINGTON'S WALK 167 
 
 thought and only recovered his nonchalant air as 
 he entered the door of the Kings Arms. He was 
 the same easy going, smiling young man of 
 fashion as he passed the time of day with Miss 
 Peterkin; but when he had shut the door of his 
 private sitting room and dropped into an easy 
 chair over the fire, he again became so absorbed 
 in thought that he had to be reminded that the 
 hour of luncheon had passed. 
 
 Thought seemed to vanish during lunch, but 
 when he had retired to his room again, it re- 
 turned for another half hour. At the end of that 
 time he apparently came to a decision, and jump- 
 ing up briskly, repaired to the manageress' room. 
 And when Miss Peterkin was taken into his con- 
 fidence, it appeared that the whole problem had 
 merely concerned the question of taking either a 
 shooting or a fishing for next season. 
 
 "I have been thinking," said he, "that my best 
 plan will perhaps be to call upon Mr. Simon Rat- 
 tar and see whether he knows of anything to let. 
 I gather that he is agent for several estates in the 
 county. What do you advise?" 
 
 Miss Peterkin decidedly advised this course, 
 so a few minutes later Mr. Carrington strolled 
 off towards the lawyer's office.
 
 XXII 
 
 MR. CARRINGTON AND THE FISCAL 
 
 THE card handed in to Mr. Simon Rattar con- 
 tained merely the name "Mr. F. T. Carrington" 
 and the address "Sports Club." Simon gazed at 
 it cautiously and in silence for the better part of 
 a minute, and when he glanced up at his head 
 clerk to tell him that Mr. Carrington might be 
 admitted, Mr. Ison was struck by the curious 
 glint in his eye. It seemed to him to indicate that 
 the fiscal was very wide awake at that moment ; it 
 struck him also that Mr. Rattar was not alto- 
 gether surprised by the appearance of this visitor. 
 
 The agreeable stranger began by explaining 
 very frankly that he thought of renting a place 
 for next season where he could secure good fish- 
 ing and a little shooting, and wondered if any of 
 the properties Mr. Rattar was agent for would 
 suit him. Simon grunted and waited for this 
 overture to develop. 
 
 "What about Keldale House?" the sporting 
 visitor suggested. "That's the place where the 
 murder was committed, isn't it?" and then he 
 laughed. "Your eye betrays you, Mr. Rattar 1" 
 said he. 
 
 The lawyer seemed to start ever so slightly. 
 
 168
 
 MR. CARRINGTON AND THE FISCAL 169 
 
 "Indeed?" he murmured. 
 
 "Look here," said Carrington with a candid 
 smile, "let's put our cards on the table. You 
 know my business?" 
 
 "Are you a detective?" asked the lawyer. 
 
 Mr. Carrington smiled and nodded. 
 
 "I am ; or rather I prefer to call myself a pri- 
 vate enquiry agent. People expect so much of a 
 detective, don't they?" 
 
 Simon grunted, but made no other comment. 
 
 "In a case like this," continued Carrington, 
 "when one is called in weeks too late and the 
 household broom and scrubbing brush and garden 
 rake have removed most of the possible clues, and 
 witnesses' recollections have developed into pic- 
 turesque legends, it is better to rouse as few ex- 
 pectations as possible, since it is probably impos- 
 sible to find anything out. However, in the 
 capacity of a mere enquiry agent I have come to 
 pick up anything I can. May I smoke ?" 
 
 He asked in his usual easy going voice and with 
 his usual candid smile, and then his eye was ar- 
 rested by an inscription printed in capital letters, 
 and hung in a handsome frame u^on the office 
 wall. It ran: 
 
 "MY THREE RULES OF LIFE, 
 
 1. I DO NOT SMOKE. 
 
 2. I LAY BY A THIRD OF MY IN- 
 COME. 
 
 3. I NEVER RIDE WHEN I CAN 
 WALK."
 
 170 SIMON 
 
 Beneath these precepts appeared the litho- 
 graphed signature of an eminent philanthropist, 
 but it seemed reasonable to assume that they also 
 formed the guiding maxims of Mr. Simon Rattar. 
 
 His visitor politely apologised for his question. 
 
 "I had not noticed this warning," said he. 
 
 "Smoke if you like. My clients sometimes do. 
 I don't myself," said the lawyer. 
 
 His visitor thanked him, placed a cigarette in 
 his amber holder, lit it, and let his eyes follow the 
 smoke upwards. 
 
 Mr. Rattar, on his part, seemed in his closest, 
 most taciturn humour. His grunt and his nod 
 had, in fact, seldom formed a greater proportion 
 of his conversation. He made no further com- 
 ment at all now, but waited in silence for his vis- 
 itor to proceed. 
 
 "Well," resumed Carrington, "the simple facts 
 of the case are these. I have been engaged 
 through a certain firm of London lawyers, whose 
 name I am not permitted to mention, on behalf of 
 a person whose name I don't know." 
 
 At this a flash of keen interest showed for an 
 instant in Simon's eye; and then it became as cold 
 as ever again. 
 
 "Indeed?" said he. 
 
 "I am allowed to incur expense," continued the 
 other, "up to a certain figure, which is so hand- 
 some that it gives me practically a free hand, so 
 far as that is concerned. On the other hand, the 
 arrangement entails certain difficulties which I 
 daresay you, Mr. Rattar, as a lawyer, and espe-
 
 MR. CARRINGTON AND THE FISCAL 171 
 
 cially as a Procurator Fiscal accustomed to in- 
 vestigate cases of crime, will readily understand." 
 
 "Quite so; quite so," agreed Mr. Rattar, who 
 seemed to be distinctly relaxing already from his 
 guarded attitude. 
 
 "I arrived last night, put up at the Kings 
 Arms where I gathered beforehand that the 
 local gossip could best be collected, and in the 
 course of the evening I collected enough to hang 
 at least two people; and in the course of a few 
 more evenings I shall probably have enough to 
 hang half a dozen if one can believe, say, a 
 twentieth of what one hears. This morning I 
 strolled out to Keldale House and had a look at 
 it from the road, and I learned that it was a large 
 mansion standing among trees. That's all I have 
 been able to do so far." 
 
 "Nothing more than that?" 
 
 Mr. Carrington seemed to have a singularly 
 short memory. 
 
 "I think that's the lot," said he. "And what is 
 more, it seems to me the sum total of all I am 
 likely to do without a little assistance from some- 
 body in possession of rather more authentic facts 
 than my friend Miss Peterkin and her visitors." 
 
 "I quite understand," said the lawyer ; and it was 
 plain that his interest was now thoroughly enlisted. 
 
 "Well," continued Mr. Carrington, "I thought 
 things over, and rightly or wrongly, I came to 
 this decision. My employer, whoever he is, has 
 made it an absolute condition that his name is not 
 to be known. His reasons may have been the best
 
 173 SIMON 
 
 imaginable, but it obviously made it impossible 
 for me to get any information out of him. For 
 my own reasons I always prefer to make my en- 
 quiries in these cases in the guise of an unsus- 
 pected outsider, whenever it is possible; and it 
 happens to be particularly possible in this case, 
 since nobody here knows me from Adam. But I 
 must get facts as distinguished from the Kings 
 Arms' gossip, and how was I to get them with- 
 out giving myself away? That was the problem, 
 and I soon realised that it was insoluble. I saw 
 I must confide in somebody, and so I came to the 
 decision to confide in you." 
 
 Simon nodded and made a sound that seemed 
 to indicate distinctly his opinion that Mr. Car- 
 rington had come to a sensible decision. 
 
 "You were the obvious person for several rea- 
 sons," resumed Carrington. "In the first place 
 you could pretty safely be regarded as above sus- 
 picion yourself if you will pardon my associat- 
 ing even the word suspicion with a Procurator 
 Fiscal." He smiled his most agreeable smile and 
 the Fiscal allowed his features to relax sympa- 
 thetically. "In the second place you know more 
 about the case than anybody else. And in the 
 third place, I gather that you are if I may say 
 so, a gentleman of unusual discretion." 
 
 Again he smiled pleasantly, and again Mr. 
 Rattar's features relaxed. 
 
 "Finally," added Carrington, "I thought it 
 long odds that you were either actually my em- 
 ployer or acting for him, and therefore I should
 
 MR. CARRINGTON AND THE FISCAL 173 
 
 be giving nothing away by telling you my busi- 
 ness. And when I mentioned Keldale House and 
 the murder I saw that I was right!" 
 
 He laughed, and Simon permitted himself to 
 smile. Yet his answer was as cautious as ever. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Carrington?" said he. 
 
 "Well," said Carrington, "if you actually are 
 my employer and we both lay our cards on the 
 table, there's much to be gained, and if I may 
 say so really nothing to be lost. I won't give 
 you away if you won't give me." 
 
 The lawyer's nod seemed to imply emphatic 
 assent, and the other went on: 
 
 "I'll keep you informed of everything I'm do- 
 ing and anything I may happen to discover, and 
 you can give me very valuable information as to 
 what precisely is known already. Otherwise, of 
 course, one could hardly exchange confidences so 
 freely. Frankly then, you engaged me to come 
 down here?" 
 
 Even then Simon's caution seemed to linger 
 for an instant. The next he answered briefly but 
 decidedly : 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Very well, now to business. I got a certain 
 amount of literature on the case before I left 
 town, and Miss Peterkin gave me some very val- 
 uable additions in the shape of the accounts in 
 the local papers. Are there any facts known to 
 you or the police beyond those I have read?" 
 
 Simon considered the question and then shook 
 his head.
 
 174 SIMON 
 
 "None that I can think of, and I fear the local 
 police will be able to add no information that can 
 assist you." 
 
 "They are the usual not too intelligent country 
 bobbies, I suppose?" 
 
 "Quite so," said Simon. 
 
 "In that case," asked Mr. Carrington, still in 
 his easy voice, but with a quick turn of his eye- 
 glass towards the lawyer, "why was no outside 
 assistance called in at once?" 
 
 For a moment Simon Rattar's satisfaction with 
 his visitor seemed to be diminished. He seemed, 
 in fact, a little disconcerted, and his reply again 
 became little more than a grunt. 
 
 "Quite satisfied with them," seemed to be the 
 reading of his answer. 
 
 "Well," said Carrington, "no doubt you knew 
 best, Mr. Rattar." 
 
 His eyes thoughtfully followed the smoke of 
 his cigarette upwards for a moment, and then he 
 said: 
 
 "That being so, my first step had better be to 
 visit Keldale House and see whether it is still 
 possible to find any small point the local profes- 
 sionals have overlooked." 
 
 Mr. Rattar seemed to disapprove of this. 
 
 "Nothing to discover," said he. "And they will 
 know what you have come about." 
 
 Mr. Carrington smiled. 
 
 "I think, Mr. Rattar, that, on the whole, my 
 appearance provokes no great amount of sus- 
 picion."
 
 MR. CARRINGTON AND THE FISCAL 175 
 
 "Your appearance, no," admitted Simon, 
 "but" 
 
 "Well, if I go to Keldale armed with a card of 
 introduction from you, to make enquiry about the 
 shootings, I think I can undertake to turn the 
 conversation on to other matters without excit- 
 ing suspicion." 
 
 "Conversation with whom?" enquired the law- 
 yer sceptically. 
 
 "I had thought of Mr. Bisset, the butler." 
 
 "Oh " began Mr. Rattar with a note of sur- 
 prise, and then pulled himself up. 
 
 "Yes," smiled Mr. Carrington, "I have picked 
 up a little about the household. My friends of 
 last night were exceedingly communicative very 
 gossipy indeed. I rather gather that omniscience 
 is Mr. Bisset 's foible, and that he is not averse 
 from conversation." 
 
 The look in Simon's eye seemed to indicate that 
 his respect for this easy going young man was in- 
 creasing; though whether his liking for him was 
 also increased thereby was not so manifest. His 
 reply was again a mere grunt. 
 
 "Well, that can easily be arranged," said Car- 
 rington, "and it is obviously the first thing to do." 
 
 He blew a ring of smoke from his lips, skil- 
 fully sent a second ring in chase of it, and then 
 turning his monocle again on the lawyer, en- 
 quired ( though not in a tone that seemed to indi- 
 cate and very acute interest in the question) : 
 
 "Who do you think yourself murdered Sir 
 Reginald Cromarty?"
 
 XXIII 
 
 SIMON'S VIEWS 
 
 "WELL/* said Mr. Rattar deliberately, "I 
 think myself that the actual evidence is very 
 slight and extremely inclusive." 
 
 "You mean the direct evidence afforded by the 
 unfastened window, position of the body, table 
 said to have been overturned, and so forth?" 
 
 "Exactly. That evidence is slight, but so far 
 as it goes it seems to me to point to entry by the 
 door and to the man having been in the house for 
 some little time previously." 
 
 "Well?" said Carrington in an encouraging 
 voice. 
 
 "So much for the direct evidence. I may be 
 wrong, but that is my decided opinion. No bad 
 characters are known to the police to have been 
 in the county at that time, and there was no rob- 
 bery." 
 
 "Apparently confirming the direct evidence?" 
 
 "Decidedly confirming it or so it seems to 
 me." 
 
 "Then you think there is something in the pop- 
 ular theory that the present baronet and Miss 
 Farmond were the guilty parties?" 
 
 Simon was silent for a moment, but his face 
 was unusually expressive. 
 
 176
 
 SIMON'S VIEWS 177 
 
 "I fear it looks like it." 
 
 "An unpleasant conclusion for you to come 
 to," observed Mr. Carrington. "You are the 
 family lawyer, I understand." 
 
 "Very unpleasant," Mr. Rattar agreed. "But, 
 of course, there is no absolute proof." 
 
 "Naturally; or they'd have been arrested by 
 now. What sort of a fellow is Sir Malcolm?" 
 
 "My own experience of him," said the lawyer 
 drily, "is chiefly confined to his visits to my office 
 to borrow money of me." 
 
 "Indeed?" said Carrington with interest. 
 "That sort of fellow, is he? He writes, I under- 
 stand." 
 
 Simon nodded. 
 
 "Any other known vices?" 
 
 "I know little about his vices except that they 
 cost him considerably more than he could possibly 
 have paid, had it not been for Sir Reginald's 
 death." 
 
 "So the motive is plain enough. Any evi- 
 dence against him?" 
 
 Simon pursed his lips and became exceedingly 
 grave. 
 
 "When questioned next morning by the super- 
 intendent of police and myself, he led us to un- 
 derstand that he had retired to bed early and was 
 in no position to hear or notice anything. I have 
 since found that he was in the habit of sitting up 
 late." 
 
 " 'In the habit,' " repeated Carrington quickly.
 
 178 SIMON 
 
 "But you don't suggest he sat up that night in 
 particular?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly he sat up that night." 
 
 "But merely as he always did?" 
 
 "He might have been waiting for his chance 
 on the previous nights." 
 
 Carrington smoked thoughtfully for a moment 
 and then asked: 
 
 "But there is no evidence that he left his room 
 or was heard moving about that night, is there?" 
 
 "There is not yet any positive evidence. But 
 he was obviously in a position to do so." 
 
 "Was his room near or over the library?" 
 
 "N no," said the fiscal, and there seemed to 
 be a hint of reluctance in his voice. 
 
 Carrington glanced at him quickly and then 
 gazed up at the ceiling. 
 
 "What sort of a girl is Miss Farmond?" he 
 enquired next. 
 
 "She is the illegitimate daughter of a brother 
 of the late Sir Reginald's." 
 
 Carrington nodded. 
 
 "So I gathered from the local gossips. But 
 that fact is hardly against her, is it?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 Carrington looked a little surprised. 
 
 "Girls don't generally murder their uncles for 
 choice, in my own experience; especially if they 
 are also their benefactors." 
 
 "This was hardly the usual relationship," said 
 the lawyer with a touch of significance.
 
 SIMON'S VIEWS 179 
 
 "Do you suggest that the irregularity is apt 
 to breed crime?" 
 
 Simon's grunt seemed to signify considerable 
 doubt as to the morals of the type of relative. 
 
 "But what sort of girl is she otherwise?" 
 
 "I should call Miss Farmond the insinuating 
 type. A young man like yourself would probably 
 find her very attractive at first anyhow." 
 
 Mr. Carrington seemed to ponder for a mo- 
 ment on this suggestive description of Miss Far- 
 mond's allurements. And then he asked: 
 
 "Is it the case that she is engaged to Sir 
 Malcolm?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "You are sure?" 
 
 Something in his voice seemed to make the 
 lawyer reflect. 
 
 "Is it called in question?" he asked. 
 
 Carrington shook his head. 
 
 "By nobody who has spoken to me on the 
 subject. But I understand that it has not yet 
 been announced." 
 
 "No," said Simon. "It was a secret engage- 
 ment; and marriage would have been impossible 
 while Sir Reginald lived." 
 
 "So there we get the motive on her part. And 
 you yourself, Mr. Rattar, know both these young 
 people, and you believe that this accusation 
 against them is probably well founded?" 
 
 "I believe, Mr. Carrington, that there is no 
 proof and probably never will be any; but all 
 the evidence, positive and negative, together with
 
 180 SIMON 
 
 the question of motive, points to nobody else. 
 What alternative is possible?" 
 
 "That is the difficulty, so far," agreed Car- 
 rington, but his thoughts at the moment seemed 
 to be following his smoke rings up towards the 
 ceiling. For a few moments he was silent, and 
 then he asked: 
 
 "What other people benefited by the will and 
 to what extent?" 
 
 The lawyer went to his safe, brought out the 
 will, and read through the legacies to the ser- 
 vants, mentioning that the chauffeur and gar- 
 dener were excluded by circumstances from 
 suspicion. 
 
 "That leaves Mr. Bisset," observed Carring- 
 ton. "Well, I shall be seeing him to-morrow. 
 Any other legatees who might conceivably have 
 committed the crime?" 
 
 Simon looked serious and spoke with a little 
 reluctance that he seemed to make no effort to 
 conceal. 
 
 "There is a relative of the family, a Mr. 
 Cromarty of Stanesland, who certainly benefited 
 considerably by the will and who certainly lives 
 in the neighbourhood if one once admitted the 
 possibility of the crime being committed by some 
 one outside the house. And I admit that it is a 
 possibility." 
 
 "Ah!" said Carrington. "I heard about him 
 last night, but so far suspicion certainly hasn't 
 fastened on him. What sort of a fellow is he?" 
 
 "He has lived the greater part of his life in
 
 SIMON'S VIEWS 181 
 
 the wilder parts of America rather what one 
 might call a rough and ready customer." 
 
 It was apparent that Mr. Carrington, for all 
 his easy going air, was extremely interested. 
 
 "This is quite interesting!" he murmured. "To 
 what extent did he benefit by the will?" 
 
 "l,200." 
 
 "<l,200!" Carrington repeated the words 
 with an odd intonation and stared very hard at 
 the lawyer. There was no doubt that his interest 
 was highly excited now, and yet it seemed to be 
 rather a different quality of interest this time. 
 
 "A considerable sum," said Simon. 
 
 "That is the only point about it which strikes 
 you?" 
 
 Simon was manifestly puzzled. 
 
 "What else?" he enquired. 
 
 "No coincidence occurs to you?" 
 
 The lawyer's puzzled look remained, and the 
 next instant Carrington broke into a hearty 
 laugh. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr. Rattar," he cried. 
 "What an owl I am! I have just been dealing 
 lately with a case where that sum of money was 
 involved, and for the moment I mixed the two 
 up together!" He laughed again, and then re- 
 suming his businesslike air, asked: "Now, what 
 else about this Mr. Cromarty? You say he is 
 a relation. Near or distant?" 
 
 "Oh, quite distant. Another branch alto- 
 gether." 
 
 "Younger branch, I presume."
 
 182 SIMON 
 
 "Poorer but not younger. He is said to be 
 the head of the family." 
 
 "Really!" exclaimed Mr. Carrington, and this 
 information seemed to have set him thinking 
 again. "He is the head of the family, and I 
 hear he took up the case with some energy." 
 
 Simon's grunt seemed to be critical. 
 
 "He got in our way/' he said. 
 
 "Got in your way, did he?" 
 
 Carrington was silent for a few moments, and 
 then said: 
 
 "Well I am afraid I have taken up a great 
 deal of your time. May I have a line of intro- 
 duction to Mr. Bisset before I go?" 
 
 While the line was being written he walked 
 over to the fire and cleared the stump of his last 
 cigarette out of the holder. This operation was 
 very deliberately performed, and through it his 
 eyes seemed scarcely to note what his hands were 
 doing. 
 
 He put the note in his pocket, shook hands, 
 and then, just as he was going, he said: 
 
 "I want to understand the lie of the land as 
 exactly as possible. Your own attitude, so far 
 has been, I take it no proof, therefore no arrest ; 
 but a nasty family scandal left festering, so you 
 decided to call me in. Now, I want to know 
 this is there anybody else in the neighbourhood 
 who knows that I have been sent for?" 
 
 Mr. Rattar replied with even more than his 
 usual deliberation, and after what is said by
 
 SIMON'S VIEWS 183 
 
 foreigners to be the national habit, his reply 
 consisted of another question. 
 
 "You say that your employer made a par- 
 ticular point of having his identity concealed?" 
 
 "Yes, a particular point." 
 
 "Doesn't that answer your question, Mr. Car- 
 rington?" 
 
 "No," said Carrington, "not in the least. I 
 am asking now whether there is any other em- 
 ployer in this neighbourhood besides yourself. 
 And I may say that I ask for the very good 
 reason that it might be awkward for me if there 
 were and I didn't know him, while if I did know 
 him, I could consult with him if it happened to 
 be advisable. Is there any one?" 
 
 He seemed to hang on the lawyer's answer, 
 and Simon to dislike making the answer. 
 
 Yet when he did make it, it was quite emphatic. 
 
 "No," he replied. 
 
 "That's all right then," said Mr. Carrington 
 with his brightest smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. 
 Rattar." 
 
 The smile faded from his ingenuous face the 
 moment the door had closed behind him, and 
 it was a very thoughtful Mr. Carrington who 
 slowly went downstairs and strolled along the 
 pavement. If his morning's interview had 
 puzzled him, his afternoon's interview seemed to 
 have baffled him completely. He even forgot to 
 relapse into the thoughtless young sportsman 
 when he entered the hotel, and his friend the
 
 184 SIMON 
 
 manageress, after eyeing him with great surprise, 
 cried archly: 
 
 "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Carrington! 
 About shooting or fishing, I'm sure!" 
 
 Mr. Carrington recovered his pleasant spirits 
 instantly. 
 
 "Quite right," said he. "I was thinking about 
 fishing in very deep waters."
 
 XXIV 
 
 MR. BISSET'S ASSISTANT 
 
 AT eleven o'clock next morning a motor car 
 drove up to Keldale House and an exceedingly 
 affable and pleasing stranger delivered a note 
 from Mr. Simon Rattar to Mr. James Bisset. 
 Even without an introduction, Mr. Carrington 
 would have been welcome, for though Mr. 
 Bisset's sway over Keldale House was by this 
 time almost despotic, he had begun to find that 
 despotism has its lonely side, and to miss "the 
 gentry." With an introduction, Mr. Carrington 
 quickly discovered that Mr. Bisset and the man- 
 sion he supervised were alike entirely at his 
 disposal. 
 
 The preliminary discussion on the sporting 
 possibilities of the estate and the probability of 
 its being let next season impressed Mr. Bisset 
 very favourably indeed with his visitor; and then 
 when the conversation had passed very naturally 
 to the late tragedy in the house, he was still 
 further delighted to find that Mr. Carrington 
 not only shared his own detective enthusiasm, 
 but was vastly interested in his views on this 
 particular mystery. 
 
 "Come along here, sir," said he, "we can just 
 
 185
 
 186 SIMON 
 
 have a look at the library and I'll explain to 
 you the principles of the thing." 
 
 "I'd like to see the actual scene of the crime 
 immensely!" cried Mr. Carrington eagerly. 
 "You are sure that Lady Cromarty won't 
 object?" 
 
 "Not her," said Bisset. "She's never in this 
 part of the house now. She'll be none the wiser 
 anyhow." 
 
 This argument seemed to assure Mr. Carring- 
 ton completely, and they went along to the 
 library. 
 
 "Now," began Bisset, "I'll just explain to you 
 the haill situation. Here where I'm laying this 
 sofie cushion was the corp. Here where I'm 
 standing the now was the wee table, and yon's 
 the table itself." 
 
 To the disquisition that followed, Mr. Carring- 
 ton listened with the most intelligent air. Bisset 
 had by this time evolved quite a number of new 
 theories, but the one feature common to them 
 all was the hypothesis that the murderer must 
 have come in by the window and was certainly 
 not an inmate of the household. His visitor said 
 little till he had finished, and then he remarked : 
 
 "Well, Bisset, you don't seem to put much 
 faith in the current theory, I see." 
 
 "Meaning that Sir Malcolm and Miss Far- 
 mond were concerned?" said Bisset indignantly. 
 "That's just the ignorance of the uneducated 
 masses, sir! The thing's physically impossible, 
 as I've just been demonstrating 1"
 
 MR. BISSET'S ASSISTANT 187 
 
 Carrington smiled and gently shook his head. 
 
 "I don't know much about these things," said 
 he, "but I'm afraid I can't see the physical im- 
 possibility. It was very easy for any one in the 
 house to come downstairs and open that door, and 
 if Sir Reginald knew him, it would account for 
 his silence and the absence of any kind of a 
 struggle." 
 
 "But yon table and the windie being unfast- 
 ened! And the mud I picked up myself and 
 the hearth brush!" 
 
 "They scarcely make it impossible," said Car- 
 rington. 
 
 "Well, sir," demanded the butler, "what's your 
 own theory?" 
 
 fl 
 
 Carrington said nothing for several minutes. 
 He strolled up and down the room, looked at the 
 table and the window, and at last asked: 
 
 "Do you remember quite distinctly what Sir 
 Reginald looked like when you found him the 
 position of the body condition of the clothes 
 and everything else?" 
 
 "I see him lying there every night o' my life, 
 just as plain as I see you now!" 
 
 "The feet were towards the door, just as 
 though he had been facing the door when he was 
 struck down?" 
 
 "Aye, but then my view is the body was 
 moved " 
 
 He was interrupted by a curious performance 
 on Mr. Carrington's part. His visitor was in
 
 188 SIMON 
 
 fact stretching himself out on the floor on the 
 spot where Sir Reginald was found. 
 
 "He lay like this?" he asked. 
 
 "Aye, practically just like that, sir." 
 
 "Now, Bisset," said the recumbent visitor, 
 "just have a very good look at me and tell me 
 if you notice any difference between me and the 
 body of Sir Reginald." 
 
 Bisset looked for a few seconds and then 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Your clothes are no alike! The master's coat 
 was kind of pulled up like about his shoulders 
 and neck. Oh, and I mind now the tag at the 
 back for hanging it up was broken and sticking 
 out." 
 
 Carrington sprang to his feet with a gleam in 
 his eye. 
 
 "The tag was not broken before he put on the 
 coat?" 
 
 "It certainly was not that! But what's your 
 deduction, sir?" 
 
 Carrington smiled at him. 
 
 "What do you think yourself, Bisset? You 
 saw how I threw myself down quite carelessly 
 and yet my coat wasn't pulled up like that." 
 
 "God, sir!" cried the butler. "You mean the 
 corp had been pulled along the floor by the 
 shoulders !" 
 
 Carrington nodded. 
 
 "Then he had been killed near the windie!" 
 
 "Not too fast, not too fast!" smiled Carring- 
 ton. "Your own first statement which I hap-
 
 MR. BISSET'S ASSISTANT 189 
 
 pened to read in a back number of the newspaper 
 the other day said that the windows were all 
 fastened when Sir Reginald came into the room." 
 
 "Ah, but I've been altering my opinion on that 
 point, sir." 
 
 Carrington shook his head. 
 
 "I'm afraid because a fastened window doesn't 
 suit your theory." 
 
 "But the master might have opened it to him, 
 thinking it was some one he knew." 
 
 "Sounds improbable," said Carrington thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "But not just absolutely impossible." 
 
 "No," said Carrington, still very thoughtfully, 
 "not impossible." 
 
 "Sir Reginald might never have seen it was 
 a stranger till the man was fairly inside." 
 
 Carrington smiled and shook his head. 
 
 "Thin, Bisset; very thin. Why need the man 
 have been a stranger at all?" 
 
 Bisset's face fell. 
 
 "But surely you're not believing yon story that 
 it was Sir Malcolm and Miss Farmond after a'?" 
 
 His visitor stood absolutely silent for a full 
 minute. Then he seemed suddenly to banish the 
 line of thought he was following. 
 
 "Is it quite certain that those two are en- 
 gaged?" he asked. 
 
 Bisset's face showed his surprise at the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "They all say so," said he. 
 
 "Have either of them admitted it?"
 
 190 SIMON 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Why don't they acknowledge it now and get 
 married?" 
 
 "They say it's because they daurna for fear of 
 the scandal." 
 
 'They' say again!" commented Carrington. 
 "But, look here, Bisset, you have been in the 
 house all the time. Did you think they were 
 engaged?" 
 
 "Honestly, sir, I did not. There's nae doubt 
 Sir Malcolm was sweet on the young lady, but 
 deil a sign of sweetness on him did I ever see in 
 her!" 
 
 "Do they correspond now?" 
 
 Bisset shook his head. 
 
 "Hardly at a'. But of course folks just say 
 they are feared to now." 
 
 "Has anybody asked either of them if they 
 are or ever were engaged?" 
 
 "No, sir. But if they denied it now, folks 
 would just say the same thing." 
 
 "Yes. I see naturally. Lady Cromarty be- 
 lieves it and is keeping Miss Farmond under her 
 eye, the gossips tell me. Is that so?" 
 
 "Oh, that's true right enough, sir." 
 
 "Who told Lady Cromarty?" 
 
 "That I do not know, sir." 
 
 Again the visitor seemed to be thinking, and 
 again to cast his thoughts aside and take up a 
 new aspect of the case. 
 
 "Supposing," he suggested, "we were to draw 
 the curtains and light these candles for a few
 
 MR. BISSET'S ASSISTANT 191 
 
 minutes? It might help us to realise the whole 
 thing." 
 
 This suggestion pleased Mr. Bisset greatly and 
 in a minute or two the candles were lit and the 
 curtains drawn. 
 
 "Put the table where it stood," said Carring- 
 ton. "Now which was Sir Reginald's chair? 
 This?" 
 
 He sat in it and looked slowly round the dark- 
 ened, candle-lit library. 
 
 "Now," said he, "suppose I was Sir Reginald, 
 and there came a tap at that window, what would 
 I do?" 
 
 "If you were the master, sir, you'd go straight 
 to the windie to see who it was." 
 
 "I wouldn't get in a funk and ring the bell?" 
 
 "No fears!" said Bisset confidently. 
 
 "And any one who knew Sir Reginald at all 
 well could count on his not giving the alarm then 
 if they tapped at the window?" 
 
 "They could that." 
 
 Carrington looked attentively towards the 
 window. 
 
 "Those curtains hang close against the win- 
 dow, I see," he observed. "A very slight gap in 
 them would enable any one to get a good view 
 of the room, if the blinds were not down. Were 
 the blinds down that night?" 
 
 Bisset slapped his knee. 
 
 "The middle blind wasn't working I" he cried. 
 "What a fool I've been not to think on the extra- 
 ordinar' significance of that f ac' ! My, the deduc-
 
 192 SIMON 
 
 tions to be drawn! You've made it quite clear 
 now, sir. The man tappit at that windie 
 
 "Steady, steady!" said Carrington, smiling and 
 yet seriously. "Don't you go announcing that 
 theory! If there's anything in it mum's the 
 word! But mind you, Bisset, it's only a bare 
 possibility. There's no good evidence against the 
 door theory yet." 
 
 "Not the table being cowpit and the body 
 moved ?" 
 
 "They might be explained." 
 
 He was thoughtful for a moment and then 
 said deliberately: 
 
 "I want I mean you want certain evidence 
 to exclude the door theory. Without that, the 
 window theory remains a guess. Sir Malcolm is 
 in London, I understand?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Likely to be coming north soon?" 
 
 "No word of it, sir." 
 
 Mr. Carrington reflected for a moment and 
 then rose and went towards the window. 
 
 "We can draw back the curtains now," said he. 
 
 He drew them as he spoke and on the instant 
 stepped involuntarily back and down went the 
 small table. Miss Cicely Farmond was standing 
 just outside, evidently arrested by the drawn 
 curtains. Her eyes opened very wide indeed at 
 the sight of Mr. Carrington suddenly revealed. 
 Her lips parted for an instant as though she 
 would cry out, and then she hurried away. 
 
 Mr. Carrington seemed more upset by this
 
 MR. BISSET'S ASSISTANT 193 
 
 incident than one would expect from such a com- 
 posed, easy going young man. 
 
 "What will they think of me!" he exclaimed. 
 "You must be sure to tell Miss Farmond and 
 Lady Cromarty too if she hears of this that I 
 came solely to enquire about the shootings and 
 not to poke my nose into their library ! Make that 
 very explicit, Bisset." 
 
 Even though assured by Bisset that the young 
 lady was the most amiable person imaginable, he 
 was continuing to lay stress on the point when 
 his attention was abruptly diverted by the sight 
 of another lady in deep black walking slowly 
 away from the house. 
 
 "Is that Lady Cromarty?" he asked, and no 
 sooner had Bisset said "yes" than the window was 
 up and Mr. Carrington stepping out of it. 
 
 "I really must explain and apologise to her 
 ladyship," said he. 
 
 "Her ladyship will never know !" began 
 
 Bisset, but the surprising visitor was already 
 hastening after the mourning figure. Had the 
 worthy man been able to hear the conversation 
 which ensued he would have been more surprised 
 still. 
 
 "Lady Cromarty, I believe?" said the stranger 
 in a deferential voice. 
 
 She turned quickly, and her eyes searched him 
 with that hard glance they wore always nowa- 
 days. 
 
 "Yes, I am Lady Cromarty," she said. 
 
 "Pardon me for disturbing you," said he. "It
 
 194 SIMON 
 
 is a mere brief matter of business. I represent 
 an insurance company to which Sir Malcolm 
 Cromarty has made certain proposals. We are 
 not perfectly satisfied with his statements, and 
 from other sources learn that he is engaged to be 
 married. I have come simply to ascertain 
 whether that is the case." 
 
 Lady Cromarty was (as Mr. Carrington had 
 shrewdly divined ) no better versed in the intricate 
 matter of insurance than the majority of her sex, 
 and evidently perceived nothing very unusual in 
 this enquiry. It may be added in her excuse 
 that the manner in which it was put by the repre- 
 sentative of the company was a perfect example 
 of how a business man should address a lady. 
 
 "It is the case," said she. 
 
 "May I ask your ladyship's authority in 
 strict confidence of course?" enquired the repre- 
 sentative firmly, but very courteously. 
 
 "I learned it from my own man of business," 
 said she. 
 
 "Thank you," said the insurance representa- 
 tive. "I beg that your ladyship will say nothing 
 of my call, and I shall undertake not to mention 
 the source of my information," and with an ade- 
 quate bow he returned to the house. 
 
 Before disappearing through her library win- 
 dow, Mr. Carrington saw that her ladyship's 
 back was turned, and he then gave this candid, 
 if somewhat sketchy, account of his interview 
 to her butler. 
 
 "It suddenly struck me," said he, "that Lady
 
 MR. BISSET'S ASSISTANT 195 
 
 Cromarty might think it somewhat unseemly of 
 me to come enquiring about shooting so soon 
 after her bereavement; so I gave her a somewhat 
 different explanation. She is not likely to make 
 any further enquiries about me and so you need 
 say nothing about my visit." 
 
 He was careful however to impress on his 
 friend Mr. Bisset that he actually had come from 
 purely sporting motives. In fact he professed 
 some anxiety to get in touch with Sir Malcolm 
 on the subject, even though assured that the 
 young baronet had nothing to do with the shoot- 
 ings. 
 
 "Ah, but it will gratify him, Bisset," said he, 
 <f and I think it is the nice thing to do. Could 
 you give me his London address?" 
 
 He jotted this down in his pocket book, and 
 then as he was leaving he said confidentially: 
 
 "You tell me that you think Sir Malcolm is 
 interested in Miss Farmond, though she seemed 
 not so keen on him?" 
 
 "That was the way of it to my thinking," said 
 Bisset. "And what deduction would you draw 
 from that, sir?" 
 
 "I should deduce," said this sympathetic and 
 intelligent visitor, "the probable appearance of 
 certain evidence bearing on our theories, Bisset." 
 
 Mr. Bisset thought he had seldom met a pleas- 
 anter gentleman or a more helpful assistant.
 
 XXV 
 
 A TELEGRAM 
 
 THE car took Mr. Carrington straight back to 
 the town and dropped him at the door of Mr. 
 Rattar's office. 
 
 "I shall want you again at two o'clock sharp," 
 he said to the chauffeur, and turned in to the 
 office. 
 
 He caught the lawyer just before he went out 
 to lunch and said at once : 
 
 "I want to see Sir Malcolm Cromarty. Can 
 you arrange for him to run up here for a day?" 
 
 Simon stared at him hard, and there seemed to 
 be even more caution than usual in his eye; al- 
 most, indeed, a touch of suspicion. The lawyer 
 was not looking quite as well as usual ; there was 
 a drawn look about the upper part of the face 
 and a hint of strain both in eyes and mouth. 
 
 "Why do you want to see Sir Malcolm?" he 
 enquired. 
 
 "Well," said Carrington, "the fact of the mat- 
 ter is, Mr. Rattar, that, as you yourself said, the 
 direct evidence is practically nil, and one is forced 
 to go a good deal by one's judgment of the people 
 suspected or concerned." 
 
 Simon grunted sceptically. 
 
 "Very misleading," he said. 
 
 196
 
 A TELEGRAM 197 
 
 "That depends entirely on one's judgment, or 
 rather on one's instinct for distinguishing bad 
 eggs from good. As a matter of observation I 
 don't find that certain types of men and women 
 commit certain actions, and I do find that they 
 are apt to commit others. And contrariwise with 
 other types." 
 
 "Very unsafe doctrine," said Simon emphat- 
 ically. 
 
 "Extremely in the hands of any one who 
 doesn't know how to apply it. On the other 
 hand, it can be made a short and commonsense 
 cut to the truth in many cases. For instance, the 
 man who suspected Mr. Bisset of committing the 
 crime would simply be wasting his time and en- 
 ergy, even if there seemed to be some evidence 
 against him." 
 
 "Any man can commit any crime," said Simon 
 dogmatically. 
 
 Carrington smiled and shook his head. 
 
 "Personally," said he, "if you had a young and 
 pretty wife, I am capable of running away with 
 her, and possibly even of letting her persuade me 
 to abscond with some of your property, but I am 
 not capable of laying you out in cold blood and 
 rifling that safe. And a good judge of men 
 ought to be able to perceive this and not waste 
 his time in trying to convict me of an offence I 
 couldn't commit. On the other hand, if the crime 
 was one that my type is apt to commit he would 
 be a fool to acquit me off-hand, even if there was 
 next to no evidence against me."
 
 198 SIMON 
 
 "Then you simply go by your impressions of 
 people?" 
 
 "Far from it. A complete absence of motive 
 would force me to acquit even the most prom- 
 ising looking blackguard, unless of course there 
 were some form of lunacy in his case. One must 
 have motive and one must have evidence as well, 
 but character is the short cut if the circum- 
 stances permit you to use it. Sometimes of 
 course they don't, but in this case they force me 
 to depend on it very largely. Therefore I want 
 to see Sir Malcolm Cromarty." 
 
 The lawyer shook his head. 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Carrington," he said, "I can't 
 bring him down here on such trivial grounds." 
 
 "But you yourself suspect him!" 
 
 For a moment the lawyer was silent. 
 
 "I think suspicion points to him; but what is 
 wanted is evidence. You can't get evidence mere- 
 ly by bringing him here. You don't suppose he 
 will confess, do you?" 
 
 "Have you ever studied the French methods 
 of getting at the truth?" enquired Carrington, 
 and when Simon shook his head contemptuously, 
 he added with some significance: "We can learn 
 a good deal from our neighbours." 
 
 "Trivial grounds!" muttered Simon. "No, 
 no!" 
 
 Carrington became unusually serious and im- 
 pressive. 
 
 "I am investigating this case, Mr. Rattar, and
 
 A TELEGRAM 199 
 
 I want to see Sir Malcolm. Will you send for 
 him or not?" 
 
 "He wouldn't come." 
 
 "It depends on the urgency of the message." 
 
 "I can't invent bogus urgent messages to my 
 clients." 
 
 Carrington smiled. 
 
 "I might do the inventing for you." 
 
 Again the lawyer stared at him and again there 
 was the same extreme caution in his eye, mingled 
 with a hint of suspicion. 
 
 "I'll think about it," he said. 
 
 "I want to see him immediately." 
 
 "Call again to-morrow morning." 
 
 Carrington's manner altered at once into his 
 usual easy-going air. 
 
 "Very well, then, Mr. Rattar," said he as he 
 rose. 
 
 "By the way," said Simon, "you have been out 
 at Keldale this morning, I presume?" 
 
 "Yes," said Carrington carelessly, "but there 
 is really nothing new to be found." 
 
 Simon looked at him hard. 
 
 "No fresh evidence?" 
 
 Carrington laughed. 
 
 "Not likely, after you and your sleuth hounds 
 had been over the ground!" 
 
 He went to the door, and there Simon again 
 spoke. 
 
 "What are you doing next?" 
 
 "Upon my word, I am rather wondering. I 
 must think about it. Good morning."
 
 200 SIMON 
 
 For a man who was rather wondering, Mr. 
 Carrington's next movements were remarkably 
 prompt. He first went straight to the Post Office 
 and dispatched a wire. It was addressed to Sir 
 Malcolm Cromarty and it ran "Come immedi- 
 ately urgent news don't answer please don't de- 
 lay." The only thing that seemed to indicate a 
 wondering and abstracted mind was the signa- 
 ture to this message. Instead of "Carrington" 
 he actually wrote "Cicely Farmond." 
 
 He then hurried to the hotel, which he reached 
 at one-fifty. In ten minutes he had bolted a hasty 
 lunch and at two o'clock was sitting in the car 
 again. 
 
 "To Stanesland Castle," he commanded. "And 
 be as quick as you can."
 
 XXVI 
 
 ME. CAHRINGTON'S interview with the laird of 
 Stanesland began on much the same lines as 
 his talk with Bisset. The amiable visitor was 
 shown into the laird's smoking room an apart- 
 ment with vast walls like a dungeon and on them 
 trophies from the laird's adventurous days, and 
 proceeded to make enquiry whether Mr. Crom- 
 arty was disposed to let his shootings for next 
 season, or, if not, whether he could recommend 
 any others. 
 
 As the visitor was in no hurry, he declared, to 
 fix anything up, it was very natural that this 
 conversation, like the morning's, should event- 
 ually turn on to the subject of the great local 
 mystery. Through it all Mr. Carrington's mon- 
 ocle was more continually fixed on the other than 
 usual, but if he were looking for peculiarities in 
 the laird's manner or any admissions made either 
 by tongue or eye, he was disappointed. Crom- 
 arty was as breezy and as direct as ever, but even 
 when his visitor confessed his extreme interest in 
 such cases of remarkable crime, he (to all seem- 
 ing) scented nothing in this beyond a not un- 
 common hobby. There was no doubt, however, 
 of his keenness to discuss the subject. Carring- 
 
 201
 
 202 SIMON 
 
 ton gave him an entertaining account of his 
 efforts to assist Mr. Bisset, and then Ned asked: 
 
 "Well, what do you think of his theory that the 
 man came in by the window?" 
 
 Carrington smiled. 
 
 "Bisset is evidently extremely anxious to save 
 the credit of the family." 
 
 Ned Cromarty was aroused now. 
 
 "Good God!" he cried. "But do you mean to 
 say that you think that story will hold water?" 
 
 "What story?" enquired Carrington mildly. 
 
 "You know what I mean the scandal that Sir 
 Malcolm and and a lady were concerned in the 
 murder." 
 
 "They are said to have actually committed it, 
 aren't they?" 
 
 Ned's eye began to look dangerous. 
 
 "Do you think it's credible?" he asked brusque- 
 
 iy. 
 
 "You know them better than I. Do you think 
 it is?" 
 
 "Not for an instant!" 
 
 "I haven't met Sir Malcolm," said Carring- 
 ton, wiping his eye-glass en his handkerchief. "I 
 can't judge of him. What sort of a fellow is 
 he?" 
 
 "A bit of a young squirt," said Ned candidly. 
 "But I'll not believe he's a murderer till I get 
 some proof of it." 
 
 "And Miss Farmond? Is she at all a mur- 
 derous lady?" 
 
 He fixed his monocle in his eye just in time to
 
 AT STANESLAND 203 
 
 see his host control himself after what seemed 
 to have been a somewhat violent spasm. 
 
 ."I'll stake my life on her innocence!" said Ned, 
 and it was hard to know whether his manner as 
 he said this should be termed fierce or solemn. 
 
 For the space of perhaps two seconds Car- 
 rington's eye-glass stared very straight at him, 
 and immediately afterwards was taken out for 
 cleaning again, while its owner seemed to have 
 found some new food for thought. The silence 
 was broken by Ned asking brusquely : 
 
 "Don't you believe me?" 
 
 Again his visitor fixed the monocle in his eye, 
 and he answered now very quietly and deliber- 
 ately: 
 
 "I happened to meet a young lady one after- 
 noon, whom I discovered to be Miss Farmond. 
 My own impression for what it is worth is 
 that it would be a mere waste of time to investi- 
 gate the suspicion against her, supposing, that 
 is, that one were a detective or anything of that 
 kind engaged in this case." 
 
 "You think she is innocent?" asked Ned ea- 
 gerly. 
 
 "I am quite certain of it, so far as I am any 
 judge." 
 
 Ned heaved a sigh of relief, and for an instant 
 a smile flitted across Carrington's face. It seemed 
 as though he were amused at such a tribute to the 
 opinion of a mere chance visitor. 
 
 "And Sir Malcolm?" enquired Ned. 
 
 Carrington shook his head.
 
 204 SIMON 
 
 "I have no means of judging yet." 
 
 Ned glanced at him quickly. 
 
 "Do you expect to get hold of a means?" 
 
 Carrington's smile was his only answer to the 
 question. And then, still smiling, he said: 
 
 "I rather wonder, Mr. Cromarty, that you 
 who have taken so much interest in this case, and 
 who are, I am told, the head of the family, don't 
 get some professional assistance to help you to 
 get at the bottom of it." 
 
 Ned's mouth shut hard and his eyes turned to 
 the fire. He said nothing for a moment and 
 then remarked : 
 
 "Well, I guess that's worth thinking over." 
 
 Carrington's shoulders moved in an almost 
 imperceptible shrug, but he made no comment 
 aloud. In a moment Ned said: 
 
 "Supposing those two are scored out, there 
 doesn't seem to be anybody else inside the house 
 who could have committed the crime, does there ? 
 You wouldn't suspect Lady Cromarty or Bisset, 
 would you?" 
 
 "Lady Cromarty is physically incapable of 
 giving her husband the blow he must have re- 
 ceived. Besides, they were a very devoted couple, 
 I understand, and she gained nothing by his 
 death lost heavily, in fact. As for Bisset 
 Carrington let his smile finish the sentence. 
 
 "Then it must have been some one from out- 
 side but who?" 
 
 "Can you think of any one?" asked Carring- 
 ton.
 
 AT STANESLAND 205 
 
 Ned shook his head emphatically. 
 
 "Can you?" he asked. 
 
 "Me?" said his visitor with an innocent air, and 
 yet with a twinkle for an instant in his eye. "I 
 am a mere stranger to the place, and if you and 
 Mr. Rattar and the police are baffled, what can 
 I suggest?" 
 
 Ned seemed for a moment a trifle discon- 
 certed. Then he said: 
 
 "That's so, of course, Mr. Carrington. But 
 since we happen to be talking about it well, I 
 guess I'm quite curious to know if any ideas have 
 just happened to occur to you." 
 
 "Well," said the other, "betAveen ourselves, Mr. 
 Cromarty, and speaking quite confidentially, one 
 idea has struck me very forcibly." 
 
 "What's that?" asked Ned eagerly. 
 
 "Simply this, that though it might be con- 
 ceivable to think of somebody or other, the diffi- 
 culty that stares me in the face is motive 1" 
 
 Ned's face fell. 
 
 "Well, that's what has struck all of us." 
 
 "Sir Reginald was a popular landlord, I hear." 
 
 "The most popular in the county." 
 
 "This isn't Ireland," continued Carrington. 
 "Tenants don't lay out their landlords on prin- 
 ciple, and in this particular instance they would 
 simply stand to lose by his death. Then take his 
 tradesmen and his agent and so on, they all stand 
 to lose too. An illicit love affair and a vengeful 
 swain might be a conceivable theory, if his char- 
 acter gave colour to it; but there's not a hint of
 
 206 SIMON 
 
 that, and some rumour would have got about for 
 certain if that had been the case." 
 
 "You may dismiss that," said Ned emphat- 
 ically. 
 
 "Then there you are what's the motive?" 
 
 "If one could think of a possible man, one 
 could probably think of a possible motive." 
 
 On Carrington's face a curious look appeared 
 for an instant. 
 
 "I only wish one could," he murmured. 
 
 A gong sounded and Ned rose. 
 
 "That means tea," said he. "I always have it 
 in my sister's room. Come up." 
 
 They went up the stone stair and turned into 
 Miss Cromarty's boudoir. On her, Mr. Carring- 
 ton produced a favourable impression that was 
 evident at once. At all times she liked good- 
 looking and agreeable gentlemen, and lately she 
 had been suffering from a dearth of them. She 
 had been suffering also from her brother's pig- 
 headed refusal to reconsider his decision not to 
 buy a car ; and finally from the lack of some one 
 to sympathise with her in this matter. In the 
 opulent-looking and sportingly attired Mr. Car- 
 rington she quickly perceived a kindred spirit, 
 and having a tongue that was not easily intimi- 
 dated even by the formidable looking laird, she 
 launched into her grievance. They had been 
 talking about the long distances that separated 
 most of the mansions in the county. 
 
 "Isn't it ridiculous, Mr. Carrington," said 
 she, "we haven't got a car!"
 
 AT STANESLAND 207 
 
 "Absurd," agreed Mr. Carrington, helping 
 himself to cake. 
 
 "Do you know, this brother of mine here has 
 actually come into a fortune, and yet he won't 
 buy me even one little motor car!" 
 
 Ned frowned and muttered something that 
 might have checked their visitor's reply, had he 
 noticed the laird's displeasure, but for the mo- 
 ment he seemed to have become very unobserving. 
 
 "Come into a fortune?" said he. "What a bit 
 of luck! How much a million two million?" 
 
 "Oh, not as much as that, worse luck! But 
 quite enough to buy at least three decent cars if 
 he was half a sportsman ! And he won't get one !" 
 
 Mr. Carrington was now trying to balance his 
 cake in his saucer and was evidently too ab- 
 sorbed in his efforts to notice his host's waxing 
 displeasure. 
 
 "In my experience," said he, "you can't get 
 a decent car much under four hundred." 
 
 "Well," said she, "that's just the figure it 
 would bring it to." 
 
 "Lilian!" muttered her brother wrathfully. 
 
 But at that moment Mr. Carrington coughed, 
 evidently over a cake crumb, and failed to hear 
 the expostulation. 
 
 "But perhaps he is going to buy you something 
 even handsomer instead," he suggested. 
 
 "Is he !" she scoffed, with a defiant eye on her 
 brother. "I believe he's going to blue it in some- 
 thing too scandalous to talk about in mixed soci-
 
 208 SIMON 
 
 ety! Anyhow it's something too mysterious to 
 tell me!" 
 
 By this time Ned's face was a thundercloud in 
 which lightning was clearly imminent, but Mr. 
 Carrington now recovered his wonted tact as sud- 
 denly as he had lost it. 
 
 "That reminds me of a very curious story I 
 heard at my club the other day," he began, and 
 in a few minutes the conversation was far away 
 from Miss Cromarty's grievances. And then, 
 having finished his cup of tea, he looked at his 
 watch with an exclamation and protested that he 
 must depart on the instant. 
 
 As he lay back in his car he murmured with a 
 satisfied smile: 
 
 "That's settled anyhow!" 
 
 And then for the whole drive home he fell very 
 thoughtful indeed. Only one incident aroused 
 him, and that but for a moment. It was quite 
 dark by this time, and somewhere between the 
 Keldale House lodge and the town, the lamps of 
 the car swept for an instant over a girl riding a 
 bicycle in the opposite direction. Carrington 
 looked round quickly and saw that she was Miss 
 Cicely Farmond.
 
 XXVII 
 
 FLIGHT 
 
 ON the morning after his visit from Mr. Car- 
 rington, Ned Cromarty took his keeper with him 
 and drove over to shoot on a friend's estate. He 
 stayed for tea and it was well after five o'clock 
 and quite dark when he started on his long 
 drive home. The road passed close to a wayside 
 station with a level crossing over the line, and 
 when they came to this the gates were closed 
 against them and the light of the signal of the 
 up line had changed fom red to white. 
 
 "Train's up to time," said Ned to the keeper. 
 "I thought we'd have got through before she 
 came." 
 
 There was no moon, a fine rain hung in the 
 air, and the night was already pitch dark. Sit- 
 ting there in the dogcart before the closed gates, 
 behind the blinding light of the gig lamps, they 
 were quite invisible themselves; but about thirty 
 yards to their left they saw the station platform 
 plainly in the radiance of its lights, and, straight 
 before them in the radiance of their own, they 
 could see less distinctly the road beyond the line. 
 
 At first, save for the distant rumble of the 
 southward bound train, there was no sign of life 
 or of movement anywhere, and then all at once 
 
 209
 
 210 SIMON 
 
 a figure on a bicycle appeared on the road, and 
 in a moment dismounted beside the station. It 
 was a girl in black, and at the sight of her, Ned 
 bent forward suddenly in his driving seat and 
 stared intently into the night. Pie saw her un- 
 strap a small suit case from the bicycle and lead 
 the bicycle into the station. A minute or two 
 passed and then she emerged from the ticket 
 office on to the platform carrying the suit case in 
 her hand. The bicycle she had evidently left in 
 the station, and it seemed manifest that she was 
 going by this train. 
 
 "That's Miss Farmond y sir, from Keldale 
 House!" exclaimed the keeper. 
 
 His master said nothing but kept his eye in- 
 tently fixed on the girl. One of the platform 
 lamps lit her plainly, and he thought she looked 
 the most forlorn and moving sight that had ever 
 stirred his heart. There was something shrink- 
 ing in her attitude, and when she looked once for 
 a few moments straight towards him, there 
 seemed to be something both sad and frightened 
 in her face. Not another soul was on the plat- 
 form, and seen in that patch of light against an 
 immensity of dark empty country and black sky, 
 she gave him such an impression of friendless- 
 ness that he could scarcely stay in his seat. And 
 all the while the roar of the on-coming train was 
 growing louder and ever louder. In a few min- 
 utes she would be gone "Where ?" he asked 
 himself. 
 
 "I'm wondering where she'll be going at this
 
 FLIGHT 211 
 
 time o' night with nae mair luggage than yon," 
 said the keeper. 
 
 That decided it. 
 
 "Take the trap home and tell Miss Cromarty 
 not to expect me to-night," said his master, 
 quickly. "Say I've gone oh, anywhere you 
 derned well like ! There's something up and I'm 
 going to see what it is." 
 
 He jumped quietly on the road just as the 
 engine thundered between the gates in front. By 
 the time the train was at rest, he was over the 
 gate and making his way to the platform. He 
 stopped in the darkness hy the rear end of the 
 train till he saw the figure in black disappear 
 into a carriage, and then he stepped into a com- 
 partment near the guard's van. 
 
 "Haven't got a ticket, but I'll pay as I go 
 along," he said to the guard as he passed the 
 window. 
 
 The guard knew Mr. Cromarty well and 
 touched his cap, and then the train started and 
 Mr. Cromarty was embarked upon what he con- 
 fessed to himself was the blindest journey he had 
 ever made in all his varied career. 
 
 Where was she going and why was she going? 
 He asked himself these questions over and over 
 again as he sat with a cigar between his teeth 
 and his long legs stretched out on the opposite 
 seat, and the train drove on into an ever wilder 
 and more desolate land. It would be very many 
 miles and a couple of hours or more before they 
 reached any sort of conceivable destination for
 
 SIMON 
 
 her, and as a matter of fact this train did not go 
 beyond that destination. Then it struck him 
 sharply that up till the end of last month the 
 train had continued its southward journey. The 
 alteration in the timetable was only a few days 
 old. Possibly she was not aware of it and had 
 counted on travelling to where? He knew 
 where she had got to stop, but where had she 
 meant to stop? Or where would she go to- 
 morrow? And above all, why was she going at 
 all, leaving her bicycle at a wayside station and 
 with her sole luggage a small suit case? Ned 
 shook his head, tried to suck life into his neglected 
 cigar, and gave up the problem in the meanwhile. 
 
 As to the question of what business he had 
 to be following Miss Farmond like this, he 
 troubled his head about it not at all. If she 
 needed him, here he was. If she didn't, he would 
 clear out. But very strong and very urgent was 
 the conviction that she required a friend of some 
 sort. 
 
 The stations were few and far between and 
 most desolate, improbable places as endings for 
 Cicely Farmond's journey. He looked out of 
 the window at each of them, but she never 
 alighted. 
 
 "She's going to find herself stuck for the night. 
 That's about the size of it," he said to himself 
 as they left the last station before the journey 
 ended. 
 
 Though their next stop was the final stop, he 
 did not open the carriage door when the train
 
 FLIGHT 213 
 
 pulled up. He did not even put his head far out 
 of the window, only just enough to see what 
 passed on the platform ahead. 
 
 "I'm not going to worry her if she doesn't need 
 me," he said to himself. 
 
 He saw the slip of a figure in black talking to 
 the stationmaster, and it was hardly necessary to 
 hear that official's last words in order to divine 
 what had happened. 
 
 "Weel, miss," he overheard the stationmaster 
 say, "I'm sorry ye're disappointed, but it's no me 
 that has stoppit the train. It's afF for the winter. 
 If ye turn to the left ye'll fin' the hotel." 
 
 The girl looked round her slowly and it seemed 
 to Ned that the way she did it epitomised dis- 
 appointment and desolation, and then she hur- 
 ried through the station buildings and was gone. 
 
 He was out of the carriage and after her in 
 an instant. Beyond the station the darkness was 
 intense and he had almost passed a road branch- 
 ing to the left without seeing it. He stopped 
 and was going to turn down it when it struck 
 him the silence was intense that way, but that 
 there was a light sound of retreating footsteps 
 straight ahead. 
 
 "She's missed the turning!" he said to himself, 
 and followed the footsteps. 
 
 In a little he could see her against the sky, a 
 dim hurrying figure, and his own stride quick- 
 ened. He had never been in this place before, 
 but he knew it for a mere seaboard village with 
 an utterly lonely country on every inland side.
 
 SIMON 
 
 She was heading into a black wilderness, and he 
 took his decision at once and increased his pace 
 till he was overhauling her fast. 
 
 At the sound of his footsteps he could see that 
 she glanced over her shoulder and made the more 
 haste till she was almost running. And then as 
 she heard the pursuing steps always nearer she 
 suddenly slackened speed to let him pass. 
 
 "Miss Farmond!" said he. 
 
 He could hear her gasp as she stopped short 
 and turned sharply. She was staring hard now 
 at the tall figure looming above her. 
 
 "It's only me Ned Cromarty," he said 
 quietly. 
 
 And then he started in turn, for instead of 
 showing relief she gave a half smothered little 
 cry and shrank away from him. For a moment 
 there was dead silence and then he said, still 
 quietly, though it cost him an effort. 
 
 "I only mean to help you if you need a hand. 
 Are you looking for the hotel?" 
 
 "Yes," she said in a low frightened voice. 
 
 "Well," said he, "I guess you'd walk till morn- 
 ing before you reached an hotel along this road. 
 You missed the turning at the station. Give me 
 your bag. Come along!" 
 
 She let him take the suit case and she turned 
 back with him, but it struck him painfully that 
 her docility was like that of a frightened animal. 
 
 "Where are you bound for?" he enquired in his 
 usual direct way. 
 
 She murmured something that he could not
 
 FLIGHT 215 
 
 catch and then they fell altogether silent till they 
 had retraced their road to the station and turned 
 down towards a twinkling light or two which 
 showed where the village lay. 
 
 "Now, Miss Farmond," said he, "we are get- 
 ting near this pub and as we've both got to spend 
 the night there, you'll please observe these few 
 short and simple rules. I'm your uncle Uncle 
 Ned. D'you see?" 
 
 There was no laugh, or even a smile from her. 
 She gave a little start of surprise and in a very 
 confused voice murmured : 
 
 "Yes, I see." 
 
 "My full name is Mr. Ned Dawkins and you're 
 Louisa Dawkins my niece. Just call me 'Uncle 
 Ned' and leave me to do the talking. We are 
 touring this beautiful country and I've lost my 
 luggage owing to the derned foolishness of the 
 railroad officials here. And then when we've had 
 a little bit of dinner you can tell me, if you like, 
 why you've eloped and why you've got a down 
 on me. Or if you don't like to, well, you needn't. 
 Ah, here's the pub at last." 
 
 He threw open the door and in a loud and 
 cheerful voice cried: 
 
 "Well, here we are, Louisa. Walk right in, 
 my dear!"
 
 XXVIII 
 
 THE RETURN 
 
 His friends would scarcely have picked out 
 Mr. Ned Cromarty of Stanesland as likely to 
 make a distinguished actor, but they might have 
 changed their opinion had they heard him breezily 
 announce himself as Mr. Dawkins from Liver- 
 pool and curse the Scottish railways which had 
 lost his luggage for him. It is true that the land- 
 lord looked at him a trifle askance and that the 
 landlady and her maid exchanged a knowing 
 smile when he ordered a room for his niece 
 Louisa, but few people shut up in a little country 
 inn with such a formidable looking, loud voiced 
 giant, would have ventured to question his state- 
 ments openly, and the equanimity of Mr. Daw- 
 kins remained undisturbed. 
 
 "Sit right down, Louisa!" he commanded when 
 dinner was served ; and then, addressing the maid, 
 "You needn't wait. We'll ring when we need 
 you." 
 
 But the moment she had gone he checked a 
 strong expression with an effort. 
 
 "Dam confound it!" he cried. "I ought to 
 have remembered to say grace ! That would have 
 given just the finishing touch to the Uncle Ned 
 
 216
 
 THE RETURN 217 
 
 business. However, I don't think they've smelt 
 any rats." 
 
 Cicely smiled faintly and then her eyes fell and 
 she answered nothing. Their only other conver- 
 sation during dinner consisted in his expostula- 
 tions on her small appetite and her low- voiced 
 protests that she wasn't hungry. But when it 
 was safely over, he pushed back his chair, crossed 
 his knees, and began: 
 
 "Now, Louisa, I'm going to take an uncle's 
 privilege of lighting my pipe before I begin to 
 talk, if you don't mind." 
 
 He lit his pipe, and then suddenly dropping 
 the role of uncle altogether, said gently: 
 
 "I don't want to press you with any questions 
 that you don't want to answer, but if you need 
 a friend of any sort, size, or description, here I 
 am." He paused for a moment and then asked 
 still more gently: "Are you afraid of me?" 
 
 For the first time she let her long-lashed eyes 
 rest full on his face and in her low voice, she 
 answered : 
 
 "Partly afraid." 
 
 "And partly what else?" 
 
 "Partly puzzled and partly ashamed." 
 
 "Ashamed!" he exclaimed with a note of indig- 
 nant protest. "Ashamed of what?" 
 
 "The exhibition I've made of myself," she said, 
 her voice still very low. 
 
 "Well," he smiled, "that's a matter of opinion. 
 But why are you afraid?" 
 
 "Oh," she exclaimed. "You know of course!"
 
 218 SIMON 
 
 He stared at her blankly. 
 
 "I pass; I can't play to that!" he replied. "I 
 honestly do not know, Miss Farmond." 
 
 Her eyes opened very wide. 
 
 "That's what I meant when I said I was 
 puzzled. You miist know and yet !" 
 
 She broke off and looked at him doubtfully. 
 
 "Look here," said he, "some one's got to solve 
 this mystery, and I'll risk a leading question. 
 Why did you run away?" 
 
 "Because of what you have been doing!" 
 
 "Me been doing! And what have I been 
 doing?" 
 
 "Suspecting me and setting a detective to 
 watch me!" 
 
 Ned's one eye opened wide, but for a moment 
 he said not a word. Then he remarked quietly: 
 
 "This is going to be a derned complicated busi- 
 ness. Just you begin at the beginning, please, 
 and let's see how things stand. Who told you I 
 was setting a detective on to you?" 
 
 "I found out myself I was being watched." 
 
 "How and when?" 
 
 She hesitated, and the doubtful look returned 
 to her eyes. 
 
 "Come, Louisa!" he said. "No nonsense this 
 time ! We've got to have this out or my name's 
 Dawkins!" 
 
 For the first time she smiled spontaneously, 
 and the doubtful look almost vanished. Just a 
 trace was left, but her voice, though still very 
 low, was firmer now.
 
 THE RETURN 219 
 
 "I only discovered for the first time the wicked 
 suspicion about poor Malcolm," she said, "when I 
 met a gentleman a few days ago who told me he 
 had heard Malcolm was arrested for the murder 
 of Sir Reginald." 
 
 "But that's not true!" cried Ned. 
 
 "No, and he admitted it was only a story he 
 had heard at the hotel, but it suddenly seemed to 
 throw light on several things I hadn't been able 
 to understand. I spoke to Lady Cromarty about 
 it, and then I actually found that I was suspected 
 too!" 
 
 "Did she tell you so?" 
 
 "Not in so many words, but I knew what was 
 in her mind. And then the very next day I 
 caught the same man examining the library with 
 Bisset and I saw him out of the window follow 
 Lady Cromarty and speak to her, and then I 
 knew he was a detective!" 
 
 "How did you know?" 
 
 "Oh, by instinct, and I was right! The posi- 
 tion was so horrible so unbearable, that I went 
 in to see Mr. Rattar about it." 
 
 "Why Rattar?" 
 
 "Because he is the family lawyer and he's also 
 investigating the case, and I thought of course 
 he was employing the detective. And Mr. Rattar 
 told me you were really employing him. Are 
 you?" 
 
 There was a pleading note in this question a 
 longing to hear the answer "No " that seemed to 
 affect Ned strangely.
 
 220 SIMON 
 
 "It's all right, Miss Farmond!" he said. "Don't 
 you worry! I got that man down here to clear 
 you just for that purpose and no other!" 
 
 "But " she exclaimed, "Mr. Rattar said 
 
 you suspected Malcolm and me and were deter- 
 mined to prove our guilt!" 
 
 "Simon Rattar said that!" 
 
 There was something so menacing in his voice 
 that Cicely involuntarily shrank back. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me, honour bright, that 
 Simon Rattar told you that lie in so many 
 words?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, "he did indeed. And he said 
 that this Mr. Carrington was a very clever man 
 and was almost certain to trump up a very strong 
 case against us, and so he advised me to go away." 
 
 He seemed almost incapable of speech at this. 
 
 "He actually advised you to bolt?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "To slip away quietly to London and stay in an 
 hotel he recommended till I heard from him. He 
 said you had sworn to track down the criminals 
 and hang them with your own hands, and so when 
 I saw you suddenly come up behind me in that 
 dark road to-night oh, you've no idea how terri- 
 fied I was ! Mr. Rattar had frightened away all 
 the nerve I ever had, and then when I thought I 
 was safely away, you suddenly came up behind 
 me in that dark road !" 
 
 "You poor little " he began, laying his hand 
 
 upon hers, and then he remembered Sir Malcolm 
 and altered his sentence into: "You know now
 
 THE RETURN 
 
 that was all one infernal pack of lies, don't you?" 
 
 Though he took away his hand, she had not 
 moved her own, and she gave him now a look 
 which richly rewarded him for his evening's work. 
 
 "I believe every word you tell me," she said. 
 
 "Well then," said Ned, "I tell you that I got 
 this fellow Carrington down to take up the 
 case so that I could clear you in the first place 
 and find the right man in the second. So as to 
 give him an absolutely clear field, he wasn't told 
 who was employing him, and then he could sus- 
 pect me myself if he wanted to. As a matter of 
 fact, I rather think he has guessed who's running 
 him. Anyhow, yesterday afternoon he told me 
 straight and emphatically that he knew you were 
 innocent. So you've run away a day too late!" 
 
 She laughed at last, and then fell serious again. 
 
 "But what did Mr. Rattar mean by saying 
 you had engaged the detective because you sus- 
 pected Malcolm and me?" 
 
 "That's precisely what I want to find out," 
 said Ned grimly. "He could guess easy enough 
 who was employing Carrington, because I had 
 suggested getting a detective, only Simon 
 wouldn't rise to it. But as to saying I suspected 
 you, he knew that was a lie, and I can only sus- 
 pect he's getting a little tired of life!" 
 
 They talked on for a little longer, still sitting 
 by the table, with her eyes now constantly smil- 
 ing into his, until at last he had to remind him- 
 self so vigorously of the absent and lucky baro- 
 net that the pleasure began to ebb. And then
 
 SIMON 
 
 they said good-night and he was left staring into 
 
 the fire. 
 
 
 
 Next morning they faced one another in a first 
 class carriage on a homeward bound train. 
 
 "What shall I say to Lady Cromarty?" she 
 asked, half smiling, half fearfully. 
 
 He reflected for a few minutes. 
 
 "Tell her the truth. Lies don't pay in the long 
 run. I can bear witness to this part of the story, 
 and to the Carrington part if necessary, though 
 I don't want to give him away if I can help it." 
 
 "Oh no!" she said, "we mustn't interfere with 
 him. But supposing Lady Cromarty doesn't be- 
 lieve " 
 
 "Come straight to Stanesland! Will you?" 
 
 "'Run away again?" 
 
 "It's the direction you run in that matters," 
 said he. "Now, mind you, that's understood 1" 
 
 She was silent for a little and then she said: 
 
 "I can't understand why these horrible stories 
 associate Malcolm and me. Why should we have 
 conspired to do such a dreadful thing?" 
 
 He stared at her, and then hesitated. 
 
 "Because well, being engaged to him " 
 
 "Engaged to Malcolm!" she exclaimed. 
 ** Whatever put that into people's heads?" 
 
 "What!" he cried. "Aren't you?" 
 
 "Good gracious no! Was that the reason then?" 
 
 He seemed too lost in his own thoughts to 
 ansv/er her; but they were evidently not un- 
 happy thoughts this time.
 
 THE RETURN 
 
 "Who can have started such a story?" she 
 demanded. 
 
 "Who started it?" he repeated and then was 
 immersed in thought again; only now there was 
 a grim look on his face. 
 
 "Well anyhow," he cried, in a minute or two, 
 "we're out of that wood! Aren't we, Louisa?" 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Ned," she smiled back. 
 
 He stirred impulsively in his seat and then 
 seemed to check himself, and for the rest of the 
 journey he appeared to be divided between con- 
 tent with the present hour and an impulse to 
 improve upon it. And then before he had real- 
 ised where they were, they had stopped at a 
 station, and she was exclaiming: 
 
 "Oh, I must get out here! I've left my bike 
 in the station !" 
 
 "Look here," said he, with his hand on the 
 door handle, "before you go you've got to swear 
 that you'll come straight to Stanesland if there's 
 another particle of trouble. Swear?" 
 
 "But what about Miss Cromarty?" she smiled. 
 
 "Miss Cromarty will say precisely the same as 
 I do," he said with a curiously significant empha- 
 sis. "So now, I don't open this door till you 
 promise!" 
 
 "I promise !" said she, and then she was stand- 
 ing on the platform waving a farewell. 
 
 "I half wish I'd risked it!" he said to himself 
 with a sigh as the train moved on, and then he 
 ruminated with an expression on his face that 
 seemed to suggest a risk merely deferred.
 
 XXIX 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 
 
 NED CROMARTY found his sister in her room. 
 
 "Well, Ned," she asked, "where on earth have 
 you been?" 
 
 He shut the door before he answered, and 
 then came up to the fireplace, and planted him- 
 self in front of her. 
 
 "Who told you that Cicely Farmond was en- 
 gaged to Malcolm Cromarty?" he demanded. 
 
 She made a little grimace of comic alarm, but 
 her eye was apprehensive. 
 
 "Don't eat my head off, Neddy! How can I 
 remember ?" 
 
 "You've got to remember," said her brother 
 grimly. "And you'd better be careful what you 
 tell me, for I'll go straight to the woman, or man, 
 you name." 
 
 She looked at him boldly enough. 
 
 "I don't know if you are aware of it, but this 
 isn't the way I'm accustomed to be talked to." 
 
 "It's the way you're being talked to now," said 
 he. "Who told you?" 
 
 "I absolutely refuse to answer if you speak to 
 me like that, Ned!" 
 
 "Then we part company, Lilian." 
 
 There was no doubt about the apprehension in 
 
 224
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 225 
 
 her eye now. For a moment it seemed to wonder 
 whether he was actually in earnest, and then to 
 decide that he was. 
 
 "I I don't know who told me," she said in an 
 altered voice. 
 
 "Did anybody tell you, or did you make it up ?" 
 
 "I never actually said they were engaged." 
 
 He looked at her in silence and very hard, and 
 then he spoke deliberately. 
 
 "I won't ask you why you deceived me, Lilian, 
 but it was a low down trick to play on me, and it 
 has turned out to be a damned cruel trick to play 
 on that girl. I mentioned the engagement as a 
 mere matter of course to somebody, and though 
 I mentioned it confidentially, it started this slan- 
 der about Malcolm Cromarty and Cicely Far- 
 mond conspiring to murder to murder ', Lilian! 
 ^-the man of all men they owed most to. That's 
 what you've done!" 
 
 By this time Lilian Cromarty's handkerchief 
 was at her eyes. 
 
 "I I am very sorry, Ned," she murmured. 
 
 But he was not to be soothed by a tear, even 
 in the most adroit lady's eye. 
 
 "The latest consequence has been," he said 
 sternly, "that through a mixture of persecution 
 and bad advice she has been driven to run away. 
 Luckily I spotted her at the start and fetched 
 her back, and I've told her that if there is the least 
 little bit more trouble she is to come straight here 
 and that you will give her as good a welcome as 
 I shall. Is that quite clear?"
 
 226 SIMON 
 
 "Yes," she murmured through her handker- 
 chief. 
 
 "Otherwise," said he, "there's no room for us 
 both here. One single suggestion that she isn't 
 welcome and you have full warning now of the 
 consequences !" 
 
 "When is she coming?" she asked in an uncer- 
 tain voice. 
 
 "When? Possibly never. But there's some 
 very fishy and it looks to me, some very dirty 
 business going on, and this port stands open in 
 case of a storm. You fully understand?" 
 
 "Of course I do," she said, putting away her 
 handkerchief. "I'm not quite a fool!" 
 
 And indeed, none of her friends or acquain- 
 tances had ever made that accusation against 
 Lilian Cromarty. 
 
 "Well, that's all," said Ned, and began to 
 move across the room. 
 
 But now the instinct for finding a scapegoat 
 began to revive. 
 
 "Who did you tell it to, Ned?" she asked. 
 
 "Simon Rattar." 
 
 "Then he has spread this dreadful story!" she 
 exclaimed with righteous indignation. 
 
 Her brother stopped and slowly turned back. 
 
 "By heaven, I've scarcely had time to think 
 it all out yet but it looks like it!" 
 
 "It must be that nasty grumpy old creature! 
 If you told nobody else well, it can't be any- 
 body else!"
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 227 
 
 "But why should he go and spread such a 
 story?" 
 
 "Because he wants to shelter some one else I" 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Ah, that's for the police to find out. But I'm 
 quite certain, Ned, that that pig-headed old 
 Simon with his cod-fish eyes and his everlasting 
 grunt is at the bottom of it all!" 
 
 He stared thoughtfully into space. 
 
 "Well," he said slowly, "he has certainly been 
 asking for trouble in one or two ways, and this 
 seems another invitation. But he'll get it, sure! 
 At the same time what's his object?" 
 
 His sister had no hesitation. 
 
 "Either to make money or hide something dis- 
 graceful. You really must enquire into this, 
 Ned!" 
 
 He dropped into a chair and sat for a few 
 minutes with his face in his hands. At last he 
 looked up and shook his head. 
 
 "I'm out of my depth," he said. "I guess I'd 
 better see Carrington." 
 
 "Mr. Carrington?" she exclaimed. 
 
 "I had a long talk with him," he explained. 
 "He seems an uncommon shrewd fellow. Yes, 
 that's the proper line!" 
 
 She looked at him curiously but evidently 
 judged it tactful in the present delicate situation 
 to ask no more. He rose now and went, still 
 thoughtful, to the door. 
 
 "What a dreadful thing of Simon Rattar to
 
 228 SIMON 
 
 do! Wasn't it, Ned?" she said indignantly, her 
 eyes as bright as ever again. 
 
 He turned as she went out. 
 
 "The whole thing has been damnable!" 
 
 As the door closed behind him she made a little 
 grimace again and then gave a little shrug. 
 
 "He's going to marry her!" she said to herself, 
 and acting immediately on a happy inspiration, 
 sat down to write a long and affectionate letter to 
 an old friend whose country house might, with 
 judicious management, be considered good for a 
 six months' visit.
 
 XXX 
 
 A MARKED MAN 
 
 THE unexpected energy displayed by her 
 charming guest in bustling all over the country 
 had surprised and a little perplexed Miss Peter- 
 kin, but she now decided that it was only a pass- 
 ing phase, for on the day following his visits to 
 Keldale and Stanesland he exhibited exactly the 
 same leisurely calm she had admired at first. He 
 sought out the local golf course and for an hour 
 or two his creditable game confirmed his reputa- 
 tion as a sportsman, and for the rest of the time 
 he idled in a very gentlemanly manner. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon he strolled out 
 and gradually drifted through the dusk towards 
 the station. Finding the train was, as usual, in- 
 definitely late, he strolled out again and finally 
 drifted back just as the signals had fallen at 
 last. It was quite dark by this time and the 
 platform lamps were lit, but Mr. Carrington 
 chanced to stand inconspicuously in a background 
 of shadows. As the engine hissed ponderously 
 under the station roof and the carriage doors be- 
 gan to open, he still stood there, the most casual 
 of spectators. A few passengers passed him, 
 and then came a young man in a fur coat, on 
 whom some very curious glances had been thrown 
 when he alighted from his first class compart- 
 
 229
 
 230 SIMON 
 
 merit. Mr. Carrington, however, seemed to take 
 no interest either in him or anybody else till the 
 young man was actually passing him, and then 
 he suddenly stepped out of the shadows, touched 
 him on the shoulder and said in a much deeper 
 and graver voice than usual : 
 
 "Sir Malcolm Cromarty, I believe!" 
 
 The young man started violently and turned a 
 pale face. 
 
 "Ye es, I am," he stammered. 
 
 "May I have a word with you?" said Carring- 
 ton gravely. 
 
 With a dreadfully nervous air Sir Malcolm 
 accompanied him out into the dark road, neither 
 speaking, and then the young man demanded 
 hoarsely : 
 
 "What do you want with me ?" 
 
 Carrington's voice suddenly resumed its usual 
 cheerful note. 
 
 "Forgive me," he said, "for collaring you like 
 this, but the fact is I am very keen to see you 
 about the Keldale shootings." 
 
 Sir Malcolm gave a gasp of relief. 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed. "Good 
 Lord, what a fright you gave me!" 
 
 "I say I'm awfully sorry!" said Carrington 
 anxiously. "How frightfully stupid I must have 
 been!" 
 
 The young man looked at him, and, like most 
 other people, evidently found his ingenuous face 
 and sympathetic manner irresistibly confidence 
 inspiring.
 
 A MARKED MAN 231 
 
 "Oh, not at all," he said. "In fact you must 
 have wondered at mv manner. The fact is Mr. 
 
 -er- 
 
 "Carrington." 
 
 "Mr. Carrington, that I'm in a most awful 
 position at present. You know of course that 
 I'm suspected of murder!" 
 
 "No!" exclaimed Carrington, with vast inter- 
 est. "Not really?" 
 
 "It's an absolute fact suspected of murder! 
 Good God, just imagine it!" 
 
 The young baronet stopped and faced his new 
 acquaintance dramatically. In spite of his ner- 
 vousness, it was evident that his notoriety had 
 compensations. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I the head of an ancient and 
 honourable house am actually suspected of hav- 
 ing murdered my cousin, Sir Reginald Crom- 
 arty!" 
 
 "What, that murder!" exclaimed Carrington. 
 "By Jove, of course, I've heard a lot about the 
 case. And you are really suspected?" 
 
 "So much so/' said the baronet darkly, "that 
 when you touched me on the shoulder I actually 
 thought you were going to arrest me !" 
 
 Carrington seemed equally astounded and 
 penitent at this unfortunate reading of his simple 
 and natural action in stepping suddenly out of 
 the dark and tapping a nervous stranger on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "How very tactless of me!" he repeated more
 
 SIMON 
 
 than once. "Really, I must be more careful 
 another time!" 
 
 And then he suddenly turned his monocle on 
 to the baronet and enquired : 
 
 "But how do you know you are suspected?" 
 
 "How do I know! My God, all fingers are 
 pointing at me! Even in my club in London I 
 feel I am a marked man. I have discussed my 
 awful position with all my friends, and by this 
 time they tell me that everybody else knows too !" 
 
 "That is er not unnatural," said Carring- 
 ton drily. "But how did you first learn?" 
 
 The young man's voice fell almost to a whisper 
 and he glanced apprehensively over his shoulder 
 as he spoke. 
 
 "I knew I should be suspected the moment I 
 heard of the crime ! The very night before per- 
 haps at the actual moment when the deed was 
 being done I did a foolish thing!" 
 
 "You don't say so!" exclaimed his new friend 
 with every appearance of surprise. 
 
 "Yes, you may not believe me, but I acted like 
 a damned silly ass. Mind you, I am not as a rule 
 a silly ass," the baronet added with dignity, "but 
 that night I actually confided in a woman!" 
 
 "What woman?"' 
 
 "My relative Miss Cicely Farmond a charm- 
 ing girl, I may mention ; there was every excuse 
 for me, still it was a rotten thing to do, I quite 
 admit. I told her that I was hard up and feeling 
 desperate, and I even said I was going to sit up 
 late ! And on top of that Sir Reginald was mur-
 
 A MARKED MAN 233 
 
 dered that very night. Imagine my sensations 
 for the next few days, living in the same house 
 with the woman who had heard me say thatl 
 She held my fate in her hands, but, thank God, 
 she evidently had such faith in my honour and 
 humanity that she forebore to er " 
 
 "Peach," suggested Carrington, "though as a 
 matter of fact, I fancy she had forgotten all 
 about the incident." 
 
 "Forgotten my words !" exclaimed the baronet 
 indignantly. "Impossible! I can never forget 
 them myself so long as I live!" 
 
 "Well," said Carrington soothingly, "let us 
 suppose she remembered them. Anyhow she said 
 nothing, and, that being so, how did you first 
 actually know that you were suspected?" 
 
 "My own man of business thought it his duty 
 to drop me a hint !" cried the baronet. 
 
 This piece of information seemed to produce 
 quite as much impression on his new acquain- 
 tance as his first revelation, though he took it 
 rather more quietly. 
 
 "Really!" said he in a curious voice. "And 
 what course of action did he advise?" 
 
 "He advised me to keep away from the place. 
 In fact he even suggested I should go abroad 
 and, by Gad, I'm going too!" 
 
 To this, Carrington made no reply at all. His 
 thoughts, in fact, seemed to have wandered en- 
 tirely away from Sir Malcolm Cromarty. The 
 baronet seemed a trifle disappointed at his lack of 
 adequate interest.
 
 SIMON 
 
 "Don't you sympathise with me," he enquired. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Carrington, "my 
 thoughts were wandering for the moment. I do 
 sympathise. By the way, what are going to do 
 now?" 
 
 The baronet started. 
 
 "By Gad, my own thoughts are wandering!" 
 said he, "though I certainly have some excuse! 
 I must get down to the Kings Arms and order a 
 trap to take me out to Keldale House as quickly 
 as I can." And then he added mysteriously, "I 
 only came down here because I was urgently 
 wired for by some one who well, I couldn't 
 refuse." 
 
 "I'm going to the Kings Arms, too. We'll 
 walk down together, if you don't mind." 
 
 "Delighted," said the baronet, "if you don't 
 mind being seen with such a marked man." 
 
 "I rather like them marked," smiled Carring- 
 ton. 
 
 All the way to the hotel the notorious Sir Mal- 
 colm pursued what had evidently become his 
 favourite subject: the vast sensation he was 
 causing in society and the pain it gave a gentle- 
 man of title and position to be placed in such a 
 predicament. When they reached the Kings 
 Arms, his new acquaintance insisted in a very 
 friendly and confident way that there was no im- 
 mediate hurry about starting for Keldale, and 
 that the baronet must come up to his sitting room 
 first and have a little refreshment. 
 
 The effect of a couple of large glasses of sloe
 
 A MARKED MAN 233 
 
 gin was quickly apparent. Sir Malcolm became 
 decidedly happier and even more confidential. 
 He was considerably taken aback, however, when 
 his host suddenly asked, with a disconcertingly 
 intense glance : 
 
 "Are you quite sure you are really innocent?" 
 
 "Innocent!" exclaimed the baronet, leaping out 
 of his chair. "Do you mean to tell me you doubt 
 it? Do you actually believe I am capable of kill- 
 ing a man in cold blood? Especially the hon- 
 oured head of my own house?" 
 
 Carrington seemed to suppress a smile. 
 
 "No," said he, "I don't believe it." 
 
 "Then, sir," said the baronet haughtily, "kindly 
 do not question my honour!" 
 
 This time Carrington allowed his smile to ap- 
 pear. 
 
 "Sit down, Sir Malcolm," he said, "pull your- 
 self together, and listen to a few words." 
 
 Sir Malcolm looked extremely surprised, but 
 obeyed. 
 
 "What I am going to say is in the strictest con- 
 fidence and you must give me your word not to 
 repeat one single thing I tell you." 
 
 His serious manner evidently impressed the 
 young man. 
 
 "I give you my word, sir," said he. 
 
 "Well then, in the first place, I am a detec- 
 tive." 
 
 For a few seconds Sir Malcolm stared at him 
 in silence and then burst into a hearty laugh. 
 
 "Good egg, sir!" said he. "Good egg! If I
 
 236 SIMON 
 
 had not finished my sloe gin I should drink to 
 your health !" 
 
 It was Carrington's turn to look disconcerted. 
 Recovering himself he said with a smile : 
 
 "You shall have another glass of sloe gin when 
 you have grasped the situation. I assure you I 
 am actually a detective or, rather, a private en- 
 quiry agent." 
 
 Sir Malcolm shook a knowing head. 
 
 "My dear fellow," said he, "you can't really 
 pull my leg like that. I can see perfectly well you 
 are a gentleman." 
 
 "I appreciate the compliment," said Carring- 
 ton, "but just let me tell you what was in the tele- 
 gram which has brought you here. It ran 'Come 
 immediately urgent news don't answer please 
 don't delay. Cicely Farmond.' ' 
 
 Sir Malcolm's mouth fell open. 
 
 "How how do you know that?" he asked. 
 
 "Because I wrote it myself. Miss Farmond is 
 quite unaware it was sent." 
 
 The baronet began to look indignant. 
 
 "But er why the devil, sir 
 
 "Because I am a detective," interrupted Car- 
 rington, "and I wished to see you." 
 
 Sir Malcolm evidently began to grasp the sit- 
 uation at last. 
 
 "What about?" he asked, and his face was a 
 little paler already. 
 
 "About this murder. I wanted to satisfy my- 
 self that you were or were not innocent." 
 
 "But er how?"
 
 A MARKED MAN 237 
 
 "By your actions, conversation, and appear- 
 ance. I am now satisfied, Sir Malcolm." 
 
 "That I am innocent." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then will this be the end of my er painful 
 position?" 
 
 "So far as your own anxiety goes; yes. You 
 need no longer fear arrest." 
 
 The first look of relief which had rushed to the 
 young man's face became clouded with a sugges- 
 tion of chagrin. 
 
 "But won't people then er talk about me 
 any longer?" 
 
 "I am afraid I can't prevent that for a little 
 longer." 
 
 The last of the baronet's worries seemed to dis- 
 appear. 
 
 "Ah!" he said complacently. "Well, let them 
 talk about me!" 
 
 Carrington rose and rang the bell. 
 
 "You deserve a third sloe gin!" said he. 
 
 While the third sloe gin was being brought, he 
 very deliberately and very thoughtfully selected 
 and lit a cigarette, and then he said : 
 
 "You tell me specifically that Mr. Rattar was 
 the first person to inform you that suspicion was 
 directed against you, and that he advised you to 
 keep away, and for choice to go abroad. There 
 is no doubt about that, is there?" 
 
 "Well," said Sir Malcolm, "he didn't specifi- 
 cally advise me to go abroad, but certainly his 
 letter seemed to suggest it."
 
 SIMON 
 
 "All!" said Carrington and gazed into space 
 for a moment. 
 
 "I am now going to take the liberty of suggest- 
 ing your best course of action," he resumed. "In 
 the first place, there is no object in your going 
 out to Keldale House, so I think you had better 
 not. In the second place, you had better call on 
 Mr. Rattar first thing to-morrow and consult him 
 about any point of business that strikes you as a 
 sufficient reason for coming so far to see him. I 
 may tell you that he has given you extremely 
 bad advice, so you can be as offhand and brief 
 with him as you like. Get out of his office, in 
 fact, as quick as you can." 
 
 "That's what I always want to do," said the 
 baronet. "I can't stick the old fellow at any price." 
 
 "If he asks you whether you have seen me, say 
 you have just seen me but didn't fancy me, and 
 don't give him the least idea of what we talked 
 about. You can add that you left the Kings 
 Arms because you didn't care for my company." 
 
 "But am I to leave it?" exclaimed the young 
 man. 
 
 Carrington nodded. 
 
 "It's better that we shouldn't stay in the same 
 hotel. It will support your account of me. And 
 finally, get back to London by the first train after 
 you have seen Mr. Rattar." 
 
 "Then aren't you working with old Simon?" 
 enquired Sir Malcolm. 
 
 "Oh, in a sense, I am," said Carrington care- 
 lessly, "but I daresay you have found him your-
 
 A MARKED MAN 239 
 
 self an arbitrary, meddlesome old boy, and I like 
 to be independent." 
 
 "By Gad, so do I," the baronet agreed cor- 
 dially. "I am quite with you about old Silent 
 Simon. I'll do just exactly as you suggest. He 
 won't get any change out of me !" 
 
 "And now," said Carrington, "get your bag 
 taken to any other hotel you like. I'll explain 
 everything to Miss Peterkin." 
 
 Sir Malcolm by this time had finished his third 
 sloe gin and he said farewell with extreme affa- 
 bility, while his friend Mr. Carrington dropped 
 into the manageress' room and explained that 
 the poor young man had seemed so nervous and 
 depressed that he had advised his departure for 
 a quieter lodging. He added with great convic- 
 tion that as a sporting man he would lay long 
 odds on Sir Malcolm's innocence, and that be- 
 tween Miss Peterkin and himself he didn't be- 
 lieve a word of the current scandals. 
 
 That evening Mr. Carrington joined the choice 
 spirits in the manageress' room, and they had a 
 very long and entertaining gossip. The conver- 
 sation turned this time chiefly on the subject of 
 Mr. Simon Rattar, and if by the end of it the 
 agreeable visitor was not fully acquainted with 
 the history of that local celebrity, of his erring 
 partner, and of his father before him, it was not 
 the fault of Miss Peterkin and her friends. Nor 
 could it fairly be said to be the visitor's fault 
 either, for his questions were as numerous as they 
 were intelligent.
 
 XXXI 
 
 THE LETTER AGAIN 
 
 ON the morning after Sir Malcolm's fleeting 
 visit to the Kings Arms, the manageress was in- 
 formed by her friend Mr. Carrington that he 
 would like a car immediately after breakfast. 
 
 "I really must be a little more energetic, or 
 I'll never find anything to suit me," he smiled in 
 his most leisurely manner. "I am thinking of 
 running out to Keldale to have another look at 
 the place. It might be worth taking if they'd 
 let it." 
 
 "But you've been to Keldale already, Mr. Car- 
 rington!" said Miss Peterkin. "I wonder you 
 don't have a look at one of the other places." 
 
 "I'm one of those fellows who make up their 
 minds slowly," he explained. "But when we cau- 
 tious fellows do make up our minds, well, some- 
 thing generally happens !" 
 
 Circumstances, however, prevented this enthu- 
 siastic sportsman from making any further en- 
 quiry as to the letting of the Keldale shootings. 
 When Bisset appeared at the front door conster- 
 nation was in his face. It was veiled under a re- 
 strained professional manner, but not sufficiently 
 to escape his visitor's eye. 
 
 "What's up?" he asked at once. 
 
 240
 
 THE LETTER AGAIN 241 
 
 Bisset looked for a moment into his sympa- 
 thetic face, and then in grave whisper said : 
 
 "Step in, sir, and I'll tell ye." 
 
 He led him into a small morning room, care- 
 fully closed the door, and announced, 
 
 "Miss Farmond has gone, sir!" 
 
 "Gone. When and how?" 
 
 "Run away, sir, on her bicycle yesterday after- 
 noon and deil a sign of her since!" 
 
 "Any luggage?" 
 
 "Just a wee suit case." 
 
 "No message left, or anything of that kind?" 
 
 "Not a word or a line, sir." 
 
 "The devil!" murmured Carrington. 
 
 "That's just exac'ly it, sir!" 
 
 "No known cause? No difficulty with Lady 
 Cromarty or anything?" 
 
 "Nothing that's come to my ears, sir." 
 
 Carrington stared blankly into space and re- 
 mained silent for several minutes. Bisset watched 
 his assistant with growing anxiety. 
 
 "Surely, sir," he burst forth at last, "you're 
 not thinking this goes to indicate any deductions 
 or datas showing she's guilty?" 
 
 "I'm dashed if I know what to think," mur- 
 mured Carrington still lost in thought. 
 
 Suddenly he turned his eyeglass on the other. 
 
 "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "the day before yes- 
 terday I passed that girl riding on a bicycle 
 towards Keldale House after dark! Do you 
 know where she had been?" 
 
 "Into the town, sir. I knew she was out, of
 
 course, and she just mentioned afterwards where 
 she had been." 
 
 "Have you any idea whom she saw or what she 
 did?" 
 
 Bisset shook his head. 
 
 "I have no datas, sir, that's the plain fac'." 
 
 "But you can't think of any likely errand to 
 take her in so late in the afternoon?" 
 
 "No, sir. In fact, I mind thinking it was funny 
 like her riding about alone in the dark like yon, 
 for she's feared of being out by hersel' in the 
 dark; I know that." 
 
 Carrington reflected for a few moments longer 
 and then seemed to dismiss the subject. 
 
 "By the way," he asked, "can you remember 
 if, by any chance, Sir Reginald had any difficulty 
 or trouble or row of any kind with anyone what- 
 ever during, say, the month previous to his death ? 
 I mean with any of the tenants, or his tradesmen 
 or his lawyer? Take your time and think care- 
 fully." 
 
 
 
 Carrington dismissed his car at Mr. Rattar's 
 office. When he was shown into the lawyer's 
 room, he exhibited a greater air of keenness than 
 usual. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Rattar," said he, "you'll be inter- 
 ested to hear that I've got rather a new point of 
 view with regard to this case." 
 
 "Indeed?" said Simon, and his lips twitched 
 a little as he spoke. There was no doubt that he 
 was not looking so well as usual. His face had
 
 THE LETTER AGAIN 
 
 seemed drawn and worried last time Carrington 
 had seen him; now it might almost be termed 
 haggard. 
 
 "I find," continued Carrington, "that Sir Reg- 
 inald displayed a curious and unaccountable irri- 
 tability before his death. I hear, for instance, 
 that a letter from you had upset him quite un- 
 duly." 
 
 Carrington paused for an instant, and his mon- 
 ocle was full on Simon all the time, and yet he did 
 not seem to notice the very slight but distinct 
 start which the lawyer gave, for he continued with 
 exactly the same confidential air. 
 
 "These seem to me very suggestive symptoms, 
 Mr. Rattar, and I am wondering very seriously 
 whether the true solution of his mysterious death 
 is not " he paused for an instant and then in a 
 low and earnest voice said, "suicide !" 
 
 There was no mistake about the lawyer's start 
 this time, or about the curious fact that the strain 
 seemed suddenly to relax, and a look of relief to 
 take its place. And yet Carrington seemed quite 
 oblivious to anything beyond his own striking 
 new theory. 
 
 "That's rather a suggestive idea, isn't it?" said 
 he. 
 
 "Very!" replied Simon with the air of one lis- 
 tening to a revelation. 
 
 "How he managed to inflict precisely those in- 
 juries on himself is at present a little obscure," 
 continued Carrington, "but no doubt a really ex- 
 pert medical opinion will be able to suggest an
 
 244 SIMON 
 
 explanation. The theory fits all the other facts 
 remarkably, doesn't it?" 
 
 "Remarkably," agreed Simon. 
 
 "This letter of yours, for instance, was a very 
 ordinary business communication, I understand." 
 
 "Very ordinary," said Simon. 
 
 "Of course, you have a copy of it in your letter 
 book and also Sir Reginald's reply?" 
 
 There was a moment's pause and then Simon's 
 grunt seemed to be forced out of himself. But 
 he followed the grunt with a more assured, "Cer- 
 tainly." 
 
 "May I see them?" 
 
 "You you think they are important?" 
 
 "As bearing on Sir Reginald's state of mind 
 only." 
 
 Simon rang his bell and ordered the letter book 
 to be brought in. While Carrington was exam- 
 ining it, his eyes never left his visitor's face, but 
 they would have had to be singularly penetrating 
 to discover a trace of any emotion there. 
 Throughout his inspection, Carrington's air re- 
 mained as imperturbable as though he were read- 
 ing the morning paper. 
 
 "According to these letters," he observed, 
 "there seems to have been a trifling but rather 
 curious misunderstanding. In accordance with 
 written instructions of a fortnight previously, you 
 had arranged to let a certain farm to a certain 
 man, and Sir Reginald then complained that you 
 had overlooked a conversation between those 
 dates in which he had cancelled these instructions.
 
 THE LETTER AGAIN 245 
 
 He writes with a warmth that clearly indicates 
 his own impression that this conversation had 
 been perfectly explicit and that your forgetful- 
 ness or neglect of it was unaccountable, and he 
 proposes to go into this and one or two other mat- 
 ters in the course of a conversation with you which 
 should have taken place that afternoon. You 
 then reply that you are too busy to come out so 
 soon, but will call on the following morning. In 
 the meantime Sir Reginald is murdered, and so 
 the conversation never takes place and no explan- 
 ation passes between you. Those are the facts, 
 aren't they?" 
 
 He looked up from the letter book as he spoke 
 and there was no doubt he noticed something now. 
 Indeed, the haggard look on Simon's face and a 
 bead of perspiration on his forehead were so 
 striking, and so singular in the case of such a 
 tough customer, that the least observant or the 
 most circumspect must have stared. Carring- 
 ton's stare lasted only for the fraction of a second, 
 and then he was polishing his eyeglass with his 
 handkerchief in the most indifferent way. 
 
 A second or two passed before Simon an- 
 swered, and then he said abruptly : 
 
 "Sir Reginald was mistaken. No such conver- 
 sation." 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me literally that Tip such 
 conversation took place? Was it a mere delu- 
 sion?" 
 
 "Er practically. Yes, a delusion." 
 
 "Suicide!" declared Carrington with an air of
 
 246 SIMON 
 
 profound conviction. "Yes, Mr. Rattar, that is 
 evidently the solution. The unfortunate man had 
 clearly not been himself, probably for some little 
 time previously. Well, I'll make a few more en- 
 quiries, but I fancy my work is nearly at an end. 
 Good-morning." 
 
 He rose and was half way across the room, 
 when he stopped and asked, as if the idea had 
 suddenly occurred to him: 
 
 "By the way, I hear that Miss Farmond was 
 in seeing you a couple of days ago." 
 
 Again Simon seemed to start a little, and again 
 he hesitated for an instant and then replied with 
 a grunt. 
 
 "Had she any news?" asked the other. 
 
 Simon grunted again and shook his head, and 
 Carrington threw him a friendly nod and went 
 out. 
 
 He maintained the same air till he had turned 
 down a bye street and was alone, and only then he 
 gave vent to his feelings. 
 
 "I'm dashed!" he muttered, "absolutely jig- 
 gered 1" 
 
 All the while he shook his head and slashed with 
 his walking stick through the air. There was no 
 doubt that Mr. Carrington was thoroughly and 
 genuinely puzzled.
 
 XXXII 
 
 THE SYMPATHETIC STRANGER 
 
 CARRINGTON'S soliloquy was interrupted by the 
 appearance of someone on the pavement ahead 
 of him. He pulled himself together, took out 
 his watch, and saw that it was still only twenty 
 minutes past twelve. After thinking for a mo- 
 ment, he murmured : 
 
 "I might as well try 'em!" 
 
 And thereupon he set out at a brisk walk, and a 
 few minutes later was closeted with Superintend- 
 ent Sutherland in the Police Station. He began 
 by handing the Superintendent a card with the 
 name of Mr. F. T. Carrington on it, but with 
 quite a different address from that on the card he 
 had sent up to Mr. Rattar. It was, in fact, his 
 business card, and the Superintendent regarded 
 him with respectful interest. 
 
 After explaining his business and his prefer- 
 ence for not disclosing it to the public, he went 
 briefly over the main facts of the case. 
 
 "I see you've got them all, sir," said the Super- 
 intendent, when he had finished. "There really 
 seems nothing to add and no new light to be seen 
 anywhere." 
 
 "I'm afraid so," agreed Carrington. '"I'm 
 afraid so." 
 
 247
 
 248 SIMON 
 
 In fact he seemed so entirely resigned to this 
 conclusion that he allowed, and even encouraged, 
 the conversation to turn to other matters. The 
 activity and enterprise of the Procurator Fiscal 
 seemed to have particularly impressed him, and 
 this led to a long talk on the subject of Mr. Simon 
 Rattar. The Superintendent was also a great 
 admirer of the Fiscal and assured Mr. Carring- 
 ton that not only was Mr. Simon himself the most 
 capable and upright of men, but that the firm of 
 Rattar had always conducted its business in a 
 manner that was above reproach. Mr. Carring- 
 ton had made one or two slightly cynical but per- 
 fectly good-natured comments on lawyers in gen- 
 eral, but he got no countenance from the Super- 
 intendent so far as Mr. Rattar and his business 
 were concerned. 
 
 "But hadn't he some trouble at one time with 
 his brother?" his visitor enquired. 
 
 The Superintendent admitted that this was so, 
 and also that Sir Reginald Cromarty had suf- 
 fered thereby, but he was quite positive that this 
 trouble was entirely a thing of the past. There 
 was no doubt that this information had a some- 
 what depressing effect even on the good- 
 humoured Mr. Carrington, and at last he con- 
 fessed with a candid air : 
 
 "The fact is, Superintendent, that I have a 
 theory Sir Reginald was worrying about some- 
 thing before his death, and as all his business 
 affairs are conducted by Mr. Rattar, I was won- 
 dering whether he had any difficulties in that di-
 
 THE SYMPATHETIC STRANGER 249 
 
 rection. Now about this bad brother of Mr. Rat- 
 tar's there couldn't be trouble still outstanding, 
 you think?" 
 
 "Mr. George Rattar was out of the firm, sir, 
 years ago," the Superintendent assured him. 
 "No, it couldna be that." 
 
 "And Mr. George Rattar certainly died a short 
 time ago, did he?" 
 
 "I can show you the paper with his death in it. 
 I kept it as a kind of record of the end of him." 
 
 He fetched the paper and Carrington after 
 looking at it for a few minutes, remarked : 
 
 "I see here an advertisement stating that Mr. 
 Rattar lost a ring." 
 
 "Yes," said the Superintendent, "that was a 
 funny thing because it's not often a gentleman 
 loses a ring off his hand. I've half wondered 
 since whether it was connected with a story of 
 Mr. Rattar's maid that his house had been broken 
 into." 
 
 "When was that?" 
 
 "Curiously enough it was the very night Sir 
 Reginald was murdered." 
 
 Carrington's chair squeaked on the floor as he 
 sat up sharply. 
 
 "The very night of the murder?" he repeated. 
 "Why has this never come out before?" 
 
 The stolid Superintendent looked at him in 
 surprise. 
 
 "But what connection could there possibly be, 
 sir? Mr. Rattar thought nothing of it himself 
 and just mentioned it so that I would know it was
 
 250 SIMON 
 
 a mere story, in case his servants started talking 
 about it." 
 
 "But you yourself seemed just now to think 
 that it might not be a mere story." 
 
 "Oh, that was just a kind o' idea," said the 
 Superintendent easily. "It only came in my mind 
 when the ring was never recovered." 
 
 "What were the exact facts?" demanded Car- 
 rington. 
 
 "Oh," said the Superintendent vaguely, "there 
 was something about a window looking as if it 
 had been entered, but really, sir, Mr. Rattar paid 
 so little attention to it himself, and we were that 
 taken up by the Keldale case that I made no spe- 
 cial note of it." 
 
 "Did the servants ever speak of it again?" 
 
 "Everybody was that taken up about the mur- 
 der that I doubt if they've minded on it any fur- 
 ther." 
 
 Carrington was silent for a few moments. 
 
 "Are the servants intelligent girls?" he en- 
 quired. 
 
 "Oh, quite average intelligent. In fact, the 
 housemaid is a particular decent sort of a girl." 
 
 At this point, Mr. Carrington's interest in the 
 subject seemed to wane, and after a few pleasant 
 generalities, he thanked the Superintendent for 
 his courtesy, and strolled down to the hotel for 
 lunch. This time his air as he walked was notice- 
 ably brisker and his eye decidedly brighter. 
 
 About three o'clock that afternoon came a ring 
 at the front door bell of Mr. Simon Rattar 's
 
 THE SYMPATHETIC STRANGER 251 
 
 commodious villa. Mary MacLean declared 
 afterwards that she had a presentiment when she 
 heard it, but then the poor girl had been rather 
 troubled with presentiments lately. When she 
 opened the front door she saw a particularly 
 polite and agreeable looking gentleman adorned 
 with that unmistakeable mark of fashion, a single 
 eyeglass ; and the gentleman saw a pleasant look- 
 ing but evidently high strung and nervous young 
 woman. 
 
 "Is Mr. Simon Rattar at home?" he enquired 
 in a courteous voice and with a soothing smile 
 that won her heart at once ; and on hearing that 
 Mr. Rattar always spent the afternoons at his 
 office and would not return before five o'clock, 
 his disappointment was so manifest that she felt 
 sincerely sorry for him. 
 
 He hesitated and was about to go away when 
 a happy idea struck him. 
 
 "Might I come in and write a line to be left 
 for him?" he asked, and Mary felt greatly re- 
 lieved at being able to assist the gentleman to 
 assuage his disappointment in this way. 
 
 She led him into the library and somehow or 
 other by the time she had got him ink and paper 
 and pen she found herself talking to this distin- 
 guished looking stranger in the most friendly 
 way. It was not that he was forward or gallant, 
 far from it ; simply that he was so nice and so re- 
 markably sympathetic. Within five minutes of 
 making his acquaintance, Mary felt that she could 
 tell him almost anything.
 
 252 SIMON 
 
 This sympathetic visitor made several appre- 
 ciative remarks about the house and garden, and 
 then, just as he had dipped his pen into the ink, 
 he remarked : 
 
 "Rather a tempting house for burglars, I 
 should think if such people existed in these 
 peaceable parts." 
 
 "Oh, but they do, sir," she assured him. "We 
 had one in this very house one night 1"
 
 XXXIII 
 
 THE HOUSE OF MYSTERIES 
 
 THE sympathetic stranger almost laid down 
 his pen, he was so interested by this unexpected 
 reply. 
 
 "What!" he exclaimed. "Really a burglary in 
 this house? I say, how awfully interesting! 
 When did it happen?" 
 
 "Well, sir," said Mary in an impressive voice, 
 "it's a most extraordinary thing, but it was actu- 
 ally the very self same night of Sir Reginald's 
 murder!" 
 
 So surprised and interested was the visitor 
 that he actually did lay down his pen this time. 
 
 "Was it the same man, do you think?" he asked 
 in a voice that seemed to thrill with sympathetic 
 excitement. 
 
 "Indeed I've sometimes wondered!" said she. 
 
 "Tell me how it happened!" 
 
 "Well, sir," said Mary, "it was on the very 
 morning that we heard about Sir Reginald only 
 before we'd heard, and I was pulling up the 
 blinds in the wee sitting room when I says to my- 
 self. 'There's been some one in at this window!' ' 
 
 "The wee sitting room," repeated her visitor. 
 "Which is that?" 
 
 He seemed so genuinely interested that before 
 
 253
 
 254 SIMON 
 
 she realised what liberties she was taking in the 
 master's house, she had led him into a small sit- 
 ting room at the end of a short passage leading 
 out of the hall. It had evidently been intended 
 for a smoking room or study when the villa was 
 built, but was clearly never used by Mr. Rattar, 
 for it contained little furniture beyond bookcases. 
 Its window looked on to the side of the garden 
 and not towards the drive, and a grass lawn lay 
 beneath it, while the room itself was obviously the 
 most isolated, and from a burglarious point of 
 view the most promising, on the ground floor. 
 
 "This is the room, sir," said Mary. "And 
 look ! You still can see the marks on the sash." 
 
 "Yes," said the visitor thoughtfully, "they seem 
 to have been made by a tacketty boot." 
 
 "And forbye that, there was a wee bit mud on 
 the floor and a tacket mark in that!" 
 
 "Was the window shut or open?" 
 
 "Shut, sir; and the most extraordinary thing 
 was that it was snibbed too! That's what made 
 the master say it couldna have been a burglar at 
 all, or how did he snib the window after he went 
 out again?" 
 
 "Then Mr. Rattar didn't believe it was a burg- 
 lar?" 
 
 "JST no, sir," said Mary, a little reluctantly. 
 
 "Was anything stolen?" 
 
 "No, sir; that was another funny thing. But it 
 must have been a burglar I" 
 
 "What about the other windows, and the 
 doors? Were they all fastened in the morning?"
 
 THE HOUSE OF MYSTERIES 255 
 
 "Yes, sir, it's the truth they were," she ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 "And what did Mr. Rattar do with the piece of 
 mud?" 
 
 "Just threw it out of the window." 
 
 The sympathetic stranger crossed to the win- 
 dow and looked out. 
 
 "Grass underneath, I see," he observed. "No 
 footprints outside, I suppose?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Did the police come down and make en- 
 quiries?" 
 
 "Well, sir, the master said he would inform the 
 pollis, but then came the news of the murder, 
 and no one had any thoughts for anything else 
 after that." 
 
 The sympathetic visitor stood by the window 
 very thoughtfully for a few moments, and then 
 turned and rewarded her with the most charming 
 smile. 
 
 "Thank you awfully for showing me all this," 
 said he. "By the way, what's your name?" She 
 told him and he added with a still nicer smile, 
 "Thank you, Mary!" 
 
 They returned to the library and he sat down 
 before the table again, but just as he was going 
 to pick up the pen a thought seemed to strike him. 
 
 "By the way," he said, "I remember hearing 
 something about the loss of a ring. The burglar 
 didn't take that, did he?" 
 
 "Oh, no, sir, I remember the advertisement was 
 in the paper before the night of the burglary."
 
 256 SIMON 
 
 He opened his eyes and then smiled. 
 
 "Brilliant police you've gotl" he murmured, 
 and took up the pen again. 
 
 "There was another burglar here and he might 
 have taken it !" said Mary in a low voice. 
 
 The visitor once more dropped the pen and 
 looked up with a start. 
 
 "Another burglar!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Well, sir, this one didn't actually burgle, 
 but" 
 
 She thought of the master if he chanced to 
 learn how she had been gossiping, and her sen- 
 tence was cut short in the midst. 
 
 "Yes, Mary! You were saying?" cooed the 
 persuasive visitor, and Mary succumbed again 
 and told him of that night when a shadow moved 
 into the trees and footprints were left in the 
 gravel outside the library window, and the mas- 
 ter looked so strangely in the morning. Her 
 visitor was so interested that once she began it 
 was really impossible to stop. 
 
 "How very strange!" he murmured, and there 
 was no doubt he meant it. 
 
 "But about the master's ring, sir " she began. 
 
 "You say he looked as though he were being 
 watched?" he interrupted, but it was quite a 
 polite and gentle interruption. 
 
 "Yes, sir; but the funny thing about losing the 
 ring was that he never could get it off his ringer 
 before! I've seen him trying to, but oh, it 
 wouldn't nearly come off!" 
 
 Again he sat up and gazed at her.
 
 THE HOUSE OF MYSTERIES 257 
 
 "Another mystery!" he murmured. "He lost 
 a ring which wouldn't come off his finger? By 
 Jovel That's very rum. Are there any more 
 mysteries, Mary, connected with this house?" 
 
 She hesitated and then in a very low voice an- 
 swered : 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir; there was one that gave me even 
 a worse turn!" 
 
 By this time her visitor seemed to have given 
 up all immediate thoughts of writing his note to 
 Mr. Rattar. He turned his back to the table and 
 looked at her with benevolent calm. 
 
 "Let's hear it, Mary," he said gently. 
 
 And then she told him the story of that dread- 
 ful night when the unknown visitor came for the 
 box of old papers. He gazed at her, listening very 
 attentively, and then in a soothing voice asked 
 her several questions, more particularly when all 
 these mysterious events occurred. 
 
 "And are these all your troubles now, Mary?" 
 he enquired. 
 
 He asked so sympathetically that at last she 
 even ventured to tell him her latest trouble. Till 
 he fairly charmed it out of her, she had shrunk 
 from telling him anything that seemed to reflect 
 directly on her master or to be a giving away of 
 his concerns. But now she confessed that Mr. 
 Rattar's conduct, Mr. Rattar's looks, and even 
 Mr. Rattar's very infrequent words had been 
 troubling her strangely. How or why his looks 
 and words should trouble her, she knew not pre-
 
 258 SIMON 
 
 cisely, and his conduct, generally speaking, she 
 admitted was as regular as ever. 
 
 "You don't mean that just now and then he 
 takes a wee drop too much?" enquired her visitor 
 helpfully. 
 
 "Oh, no, sir," said she, "the master never did 
 take more than what a gentleman should, and he's 
 not a smoking gentleman either quite a prin- 
 ciple against smokers, he has, sir. Oh, it's noth- 
 ing like that!" 
 
 She looked over her shoulder fearfully as 
 though the walls might repeat her words to the 
 master, as she told him of the curious and dis- 
 turbing thing. Mr. Rattar had been till lately 
 a gentleman of the most exact habits, and then all 
 of a sudden he had taken to walking in his gar- 
 den in a way he never did before. First she had 
 noticed him, about the time of the burglary and 
 the removal of the papers, walking there in the 
 mornings. That perhaps was not so very dis- 
 turbing, but since then he had changed this for 
 a habit of slipping out of the house every night 
 every single night! 
 
 "And walking in the garden!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Carrington. 
 
 "Sometimes I've heard his footsteps on the 
 gravel, sir! Even when it has been raining I've 
 heard them. Perhaps sometimes he goes out- 
 side the garden, but I've never heard of anyone 
 meeting him on the road or streets. It's in the 
 garden I've heard the master's steps, sir, and if 
 you had been with him as long as I've been, arid
 
 THE HOUSE OF MYSTERIES 269 
 
 knew how regular his habits was, you'd know how 
 I'm feeling, sir!" 
 
 "I do know, Mary; I quite understand," Mr. 
 Carrington assured her in his soothing voice, and 
 there could be no doubt he was wondering just as 
 hard as she. 
 
 "What o'clock does he generally go out?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "At nine o'clock almost exactly every night, 
 sir!" 
 
 Mr. Carrington looked thoughtfully out of the 
 window into the garden, and then at last looked 
 down at the ink and paper and pen. Not a word 
 was written on the paper yet. 
 
 "Look here, Mary," he said very confiden- 
 tially. "I am a friend of Mr. Rattar's and I am 
 sure you would like me to try and throw a little 
 light on this. Perhaps something is troubling 
 him and I could help you to clear it up." 
 
 "Oh, sir," she cried, "you are very kind! I 
 wish you could!" 
 
 "Perhaps the best thing then," he suggested, 
 "would be for me not to leave a note for him after 
 all, and for you not even to mention that I have 
 called. As he knows me pretty well he would be 
 almost sure to ask you whether I had come in 
 and if I had left any message and so on, and then 
 he might perhaps find out that we had been talk- 
 ing, and that wouldn't perhaps be pleasant for 
 you, would it?" 
 
 "Oh, my! No, indeed, it wouldn't!" she 
 agreed. "I'm that feared of the master, sir, I'd
 
 260 SIMON 
 
 never have him know I had been talking about 
 him, or about anything that has happened in this 
 house I" 
 
 So, having come to this judicious decision, Mr. 
 Carrington wished Mary the kindest of farewells 
 and walked down the drive again. There could 
 be no question he had plenty to think about now, 
 though to judge from his expression, it seemed 
 doubtful whether his thoughts were very clear.
 
 XXXIV 
 
 A 1 CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION 
 
 THE laird of Stanesland strode into the Kings 
 Arms and demanded : 
 
 "Mr. Carrington? What, having a cup of tea 
 in his room? What's his number? 27 right! 
 I'll walk right up, thanks." 
 
 He walked right up, made the door rattle un- 
 der his knuckles and strode jauntily in. There 
 was no beating about the bush with Mr. Cro- 
 marty either in deed or word. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Carrington," said he, "don't 
 trouble to look surprised. I guess you've seen 
 right through me for some time back." 
 
 "Meaning ?" asked Carrington with his en- 
 gaging smile. 
 
 "Meaning that I'm the unknown, unsuspected, 
 and mysterious person who's putting up the 
 purse. Don't pretend you haven't tumbled to 
 that!" 
 
 "Yes," admitted Carrington, "I have tum- 
 bled." 
 
 "I knew my sister had given the whole blamed 
 show away! I take it you put your magnifying 
 glass back in your pocket after your trip out to 
 Stanesland?" 
 
 "More or less," admitted Carrington. 
 
 "Well," said Ned, "that being so, I may as well 
 
 261
 
 SIMON 
 
 tell you what my idea was. It mayn't have been 
 very bright; still there was a kind of method in 
 my madness. You see I wanted you to have an 
 absolutely clear field and let you suspect me just 
 as much as anybody else." 
 
 "In short," smiled Carrington, "y u wanted to 
 start with the other horses and not just drop 
 the flag." 
 
 "That's so," agreed Ned. "But when my sister 
 let out about that .1200, and I saw that you must 
 have spotted me, there didn't seem much point 
 in keeping up the bluff, when I came to think it 
 over. And since then, Mr. Carrington, some- 
 thing has happened that you ought to know and I 
 decided to come and see you and talk to you 
 straight." 
 
 "What has happened?" 
 
 Ned smiled for an instant his approval of this 
 prompt plunge into business, and then his face 
 set hard. 
 
 "It's a most extraordinary thing," said he, 
 "and may strike you as hardly credible, but here's 
 the plain truth put shortly. Yesterday afternoon 
 Miss Farmond ran away." Carrington merely 
 nodded, and he exclaimed, "What! You know 
 then?" 
 
 "I learned from Bisset this morning." 
 
 "Ah, I see. Did you know I'd happened to see 
 her start and gone after her and brought her 
 back?" 
 
 Carrington's interest was manifest. 
 
 "No," said he, "that's quite news to me."
 
 A CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION 263 
 
 "Well, I did, and I learnt the whole story from 
 her. You can't guess who advised her to bolt?" 
 
 "I think I can," said Carrington quietly. 
 
 "Either you're on the wrong track, or you've 
 cut some ice, Mr. Carrington. It was Simon 
 Rattar!" 
 
 "I thought so." 
 
 "How the devil did you guess?" 
 
 "Tell me Miss Farmond's story first and I'll 
 tell you how I guessed." 
 
 "Well, she spotted you were a detective " 
 
 Carrington started and then laughed. 
 
 "Confound these women!" said he. "They're 
 so infernally independent of reason, they always 
 spot things they shouldn't!" 
 
 "Then she discovered she was suspected and so 
 she got in a stew, poor girl, and went to see Rat- 
 tar. Do you know what he told her? That I was 
 employing you and meant to convict Sir Mal- 
 colm and her and hang them with my own hands !" 
 
 "The old devil!" cried Carrington. "Well, no 
 wonder she bolted, Mr. Cromarty!" 
 
 "But even that was done by Simon's advice. 
 He actually gave her an address in London to go 
 to." 
 
 "Pretty thorough!" murmured Carrington. 
 
 "Now what do you make of that? And what 
 ought one to do? And, by the way, how did 
 you guess Simon was at the bottom of it?" 
 
 Carrington leaned back in his chair and thought 
 for a moment before answering. 
 
 "We are in pretty deep waters, Mr. Cro-
 
 264 SIMON 
 
 marty," he said slowly. "As to what I make of it 
 nothing as yet. As to what we are to do also 
 nothing in the meantime. But as to how I 
 guessed, well I can tell you this much. I had to 
 get information from someone, and so I called 
 on Mr. Rattar and told him who I was in strict 
 confidence, by the way, so that he had no business 
 to tell Miss Farmond or anybody else. I had 
 started off, I may say, with a wrong guess: I 
 thought Rattar himself was probably either my 
 employer or acting for my employer, and when 
 I suggested this he told me I was right." 
 
 "What!" shouted Ned. "The grunting old 
 devil told you that?" He stared at the other for 
 a moment, and then demanded, "Why did he tell 
 you that lie?" 
 
 "Fortune played my cards for me. Quite in- 
 nocently and unintentionally. I tempted him. I 
 said if I could be sure he was my employer I'd 
 keep him in touch with everything I was doing. 
 I had also let him know that my employer had 
 made it an absolute condition that his name was 
 not to appear. He evidently wanted badly to 
 know what I was doing, and thought he was safe 
 not to be given away." 
 
 "Then have you kept him in touch with every- 
 thing you have done?" 
 
 Carrington smiled. 
 
 "I tell you, Mr. Cromarty, my cards were being 
 played for me. Five minutes later I asked him 
 who benefited by the will and I learned that you 
 had scored the precise sum of 1200."
 
 A CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION 265 
 
 "I hadn't thought of that when I made my limit 
 1200!" exclaimed Ned. "Lord, you must have 
 bowled me out at once! Of course, you spotted 
 the coincidence straight off?" 
 
 "But Rattar didn't 1 I pushed it under his nose 
 and he didn't see it! Inside of one second I'd 
 asked myself whether it was possible for an astute 
 man like that not to notice such a coincidence 
 supposing he had really guaranteed me exactly 
 that sum an extraordinarily large and curious 
 sum too." 
 
 "I like these simple riddles," said Ned with a 
 twinkle in his single eye. "I guess your answer 
 to yourself was 'No!' ' 
 
 Carrington nodded. 
 
 "That's what I call having my cards played for 
 me. I knew then that the man was lying; so I 
 threw him oil the scent, changed the subject, and 
 did not keep Mr. Simon Rattar in touch with any 
 single thing I did after that." 
 
 "Good for you!" said Ned. 
 
 "Good so far, but the next riddle wasn't of 
 the simple kind or else I'm even a bigger ass 
 than I endeavour to look! What was the man's 
 game?" 
 
 "Have you spotted it yet?" 
 
 Carrington shook his head. 
 
 "Mr. Simon Rattar's game is the toughest 
 proposition in the way of puzzles I've ever struck. 
 While I'm at it I'll just tell you one or two other 
 small features of that first interview." 
 
 He lit a cigarette and leant over the arm of his
 
 266 SIMON 
 
 chair towards his visitor, his manner growing 
 keener as he talked. 
 
 "I happened to have met Miss Farmond that 
 morning and my interview had knocked the bot- 
 tom out of the story that she was concerned in the 
 crime. I had satisfied myself also that she was 
 not engaged to Sir Malcolm." 
 
 "How did you discover that?" exclaimed Ned. 
 
 "Her manner when I mentioned him. But I 
 found that old Rattar was wrong on both these 
 points and apparently determined to remain 
 wrong. Of course, it might have been a mere 
 error of judgment, but at the same time he had 
 no evidence whatever against her, and it seemed 
 to suggest a curious bias. And finally, I didn't 
 like the look of the man." 
 
 "And then you came out to see me?" 
 
 "I went out to Keldale House first and then 
 out to you. I next interviewed Sir Malcolm." 
 
 'Interviewed Malcolm Cromarty!" exclaimed 
 Ned. "Where?" 
 
 "He came up to see me," explained Carring- 
 ton easily, "and the gentleman had scarcely spo- 
 ken six sentences before I shared your opinion of 
 him, Mr. Cromarty a squirt but not homicidal. 
 He gave me, however, one very interesting piece 
 of information. Rattar had advised him to keep 
 away from these parts, and for choice to go 
 abroad. I need hardly ask whether you consider 
 that sound advice to give a suspected man." 
 
 "Seems to me nearly as rotten advice as he 
 gave Miss Farmond."
 
 A CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION 267 
 
 "Exactly. So when I heard that Miss Far- 
 mond had flown and discovered she had paid a 
 visit to Mr. Rattar the previous day, I guessed 
 who had given her the advice." 
 
 Carrington sat back in his chair with folded 
 arms and looked at his employer with a slight 
 smile, as much as to say, "Tell me the rest of the 
 story!" Cromarty returned his gaze in silence, 
 his heaviest frown upon his brow. 
 
 "It seems to me," said Ned at last, "that Simon 
 Rattar is mixed up in this business sure! He 
 has something to hide and he's trying to put 
 people off the scent, I'll lay my bottom dollar!" 
 
 "What is he hiding?" enquired Carrington, 
 looking up at the ceiling. 
 
 "What do you think?" 
 
 Carrington shook his head, his eyes still gaz- 
 ing dreamily upwards. 
 
 "I wish to Heaven I knew what to think!" he 
 murmured ; and then he resumed a brisker air and 
 continued, "I am ready to suspect Simon Rattar 
 of any crime in the calendar leaving out petty 
 larceny and probably bigamy. But he's the last 
 man to do either good or evil unless he saw a 
 dividend at the end, and where does he score by 
 taking any part or parcel in conniving at or abet- 
 ting or concealing evidence or anything else, so 
 far as this particular crime is concerned? He 
 has lost his best client, with whom he was on ex- 
 cellent terms and whose family he had served all 
 his life, and he has now got instead an unsatis- 
 factory young ass whom he suspects, or says he
 
 268 SIMON 
 
 suspects, of murder, and who so loathes Rattar 
 that, as far as I can judge, he will probably take 
 his business away from him. To suspect Rattar 
 of actually conniving at, or taking any part in 
 the actual crime itself is, on the face of it, to con- 
 vict either Rattar or oneself of lunacy!" 
 
 "I knew Sir Reginald pretty well," said Ned, 
 "but of course I didn't know much about his busi- 
 ness affairs. He hadn't been having any trouble 
 with Rattar, had he?" 
 
 Carrington threw him a quick, approving 
 glance. 
 
 "We are thinking on the same lines," said he, 
 "and I have unearthed one very odd little mis- 
 understanding, but it seems to have been nothing 
 more than that, and, apart from it, all accounts 
 agree that there was no trouble of any kind or 
 description." 
 
 He took a cigarette out of his case and struck 
 a match. 
 
 "There must be some motive for everything 
 one does even for smoking this cigarette. If I 
 disliked cigarettes, knew smoking was bad for me, 
 and stood in danger of being fined if I was caught 
 doing it, why should I smoke ? I can see no point 
 whatever in Rattar's taking the smallest share 
 even in diverting the course of justice by a hair's 
 breadth. He and you and I have to all appear- 
 ances identical interests in the matter." 
 
 "You are wiser than I am," said Ned simply, 
 but with a grim look in his eye, "but all I can say
 
 A CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION 269 
 
 is I am going out with my gun to look for Simon 
 Rattar." 
 
 Carrington laughed. 
 
 "I'm afraid you'll have to catch him at some- 
 thing a little better known to the charge-sheets 
 than giving bad advice to a lady client, before it's 
 safe to fire!" said he. 
 
 "But, look here, Carrington, have you col- 
 lected no other facts whatever about this case?" 
 
 Carrington shot him a curious glance, but an- 
 swered nothing else. 
 
 "Oh well," said Ned, "if you don't want to say 
 anything yet, don't say it. Play your hand as 
 you think best." 
 
 "Mr. Cromarty," replied Carrington, "I assure 
 you I don't want to make facts into mysteries, 
 but when they are mysteries well, I like to think 
 'em over a bit before I trust myself to talk. In the 
 course of this very afternoon I've collected an 
 assortment either of facts or fiction that seem to 
 have broken loose from a travelling nightmare." 
 
 "Mind telling where you got 'em?" asked Ned. 
 
 "Chiefly from Rattar's housemaid, a very excel- 
 lent but somewhat high-strung and imaginative 
 young woman, and how much to believe of what 
 she told me I honestly don't know. And the 
 more one can believe, the worse the puzzle gets! 
 However, there is one statement which I hope to 
 be able to check. It may throw some light on the 
 lady's veracity generally. Meantime I am like 
 a man trying to build a house of what may be 
 bricks or may be paper bags."
 
 270 SIMON 
 
 Ned rose with his usual prompt decision. 
 
 "I see," said he. "And I guess you find one 
 better company than two at this particular mo- 
 ment. I won't shoot Simon Rattar till I hear 
 from you, though by Gad, I'm tempted to kick 
 him just to be going on with! But look here, 
 Carrington, if my services will ever do you the 
 least bit of good in fact, so long as I'm not actu- 
 ally in the way just send me a wire and I'll 
 come straight. You won't refuse me that ?" 
 
 Carrington looked at the six feet two inches 
 of pure lean muscle and smiled. 
 
 "Not likely!" he said. "That's not the sort of 
 offer I refuse. I won't hesitate to wire if there's 
 anything happening. But don't count on it. I 
 can't see any business doing just yet." 
 
 Ned held out his hand, and then suddenly said, 
 "You don't see any business doing just yet? But 
 you feel you're on his track, sure! Now, don't 
 you?" 
 
 Carrington glanced at him out of an eye half 
 quizzical, half abstracted. 
 
 "Whose track?" he asked. 
 
 Ned paused for a second and then rapped out : 
 
 "Was it Simon himself ?" 
 
 "If we were all living in a lunatic asylum, 
 probably yes! If we were living in the palace 
 of reason, certainly not the thing's ridiculous! 
 What we are actually living in, however, is " he 
 broke off and gazed into space. 
 
 "What?" said Ned. 
 
 "A blank fog!"
 
 XXXV 
 
 IN THE GARDEN 
 
 IT was a few minutes after half past eight 
 when Miss Peterkin chanced to meet her friend 
 Mr. Carrington in the entrance hall of the Kings 
 Arms. He was evidently going out, and she no- 
 ticed he was rather differently habited from 
 usual, wearing now a long, light top coat of a 
 very dark grey hue, and a dark coloured felt hat. 
 They were not quite so becoming as his ordinary 
 garb, she thought, but then Mr. Carrington 
 looked the gentleman in anything. 
 
 "Are you going to desert us to-night, Mr. 
 Carrington?" asked the manageress. 
 
 "I have a letter or two to post," said he, "they 
 are an excuse for a stroll. I want a breath of 
 fresh air." 
 
 He closed the glass door of the hotel behind 
 him and stood for a moment on the pavement in 
 the little circle of radiance thrown by the light 
 of the hall. Mr. Carrington's leisurely move- 
 ments undoubtedly played no small part in the 
 unsuspecting confidence which he inspired. Out 
 of the light he turned, strolling easily, down the 
 long stretch of black pavement with its few check- 
 ers of lamplight here and there, and the empty, 
 silent street of the little country town at his side. 
 
 271
 
 272 SIMON 
 
 It was a very dark, moonless night, and the air 
 was almost quite still. Looking upward, he could 
 see a rare star or two twinkle, but all the rest of 
 the Heavens were under cloud. Judging from 
 his contented expression the night seemed to 
 please him. 
 
 He passed the post office, but curiously enough 
 omitted to drop any letters into the box. The 
 breath of fresh air seemed, in fact, to be his sole 
 preoccupation. Moving with a slightly quickened 
 stride, but still easily, he turned out of that street 
 into another even quieter and darker, and in a 
 short time he was nearing the lights of the sta- 
 tion. He gave these a wide birth, however, and 
 presently was strolling up a very secluded road, 
 with a few villas and gardens upon the one side, 
 and black space on the other. There for a mo- 
 ment he stopped and transferred something from 
 the pocket of his inner coat into the pocket of his 
 top coat. It was a small compact article, and a 
 ray of light from a lamppost behind him gleamed 
 for an instant upon a circular metal orifice at one 
 end of it. 
 
 Before he moved on, he searched the darkness 
 intently, before him and behind, but saw no sign 
 of any other passenger. And then he turned the 
 rim of his dark felt hat down over his face, 
 stepped out briskly for some fifty yards further, 
 and turned sharply through an open gate. Once 
 again he stopped and listened keenly, standing 
 now in the shadow of the trees beside the drive. 
 In his dark top coat and with his hat turned over
 
 IN THE GARDEN 273 
 
 his face he was as nearly invisible as a man could 
 be, but even this did not seem to satisfy him, for 
 in a moment he gently parted the branches of the 
 trees and pushed through the belt of planting to 
 the lawn beyond. 
 
 The villa of Mr. Simon Rattar was now half 
 seen beyond the curving end of the belt that 
 bounded the drive. It was dim against the night 
 sky, and the garden was dimmer still. Carring- 
 ton kept on the grass, following the outside of 
 the trees, and then again plunged into them when 
 they curved round at the top of the drive. Push- 
 ing quietly through, he reached the other side, 
 and there his expedition in search of fresh air 
 seemed to have found its goal, for he leaned his 
 back against a tree trunk, folded his arms, and 
 waited. 
 
 He was looking obliquely across a sweep of 
 gravel, w r ith the whole front of the house full in 
 view. A ray came from the fanlight over the 
 front door and a faint radiance escaped through 
 the slats of the library blinds, but otherwise the 
 villa was a lump of darkness in the dark. 
 
 One minute after another passed without event 
 and with scarcely even the faintest sound. Then, 
 all at once, a little touch of breeze sprang up and 
 sighed overhead through the tree tops, and from 
 that time on, there was an alternation of utter 
 silence with the sough of branches gently stirred. 
 
 From a church tower in the town came the 
 stroke of a clock. Carrington counted nine and 
 his eyes were riveted on the front door now.
 
 274 SIMON 
 
 Barely two more minutes passed before it opened 
 quietly; a figure appeared for an instant in the 
 light of the hall, and then, as quietly, the door 
 closed again. There was a lull at the moment, 
 but Carrington could hear not a sound. The 
 figure must be standing very still on the doorstep, 
 listening evidently listening. And then the 
 thickset form of Simon Rattar appeared dimly 
 on the gravel, crossing to the lawn beyond. The 
 pebbles crunched a little, but not very much. He 
 seemed to be walking warily, and when he 
 reached the further side he stood still again and 
 Carrington could see his head moving, as though 
 he were looking all round him through the night. 
 
 But now the figure was moving again, coming 
 this time straight for the head of the belt of trees. 
 Carrington had drawn on a pair of dark gloves, 
 and he raised his arm to cover the lower part of 
 his face, looking over it through the branches, and 
 facing the silent owner of the garden, till there 
 were hardly three paces between them, the one on 
 the lawn, the other in the heart of the plantation. 
 
 And then when Simon was exactly opposite, 
 he stopped dead. Carrington's other hand 
 slipped noiselessly into the pocket where he had 
 dropped that little article, but otherwise he never 
 moved a muscle and he breathed very gently. 
 The man on the turf seemed to be doing some- 
 thing with his hands, but what, it was impossible 
 to say. The hands would move into his pocket 
 and then out again, till quite three or four min- 
 utes had passed, and then came a sudden flash
 
 IN THE GARDEN 275 
 
 of light. Carrington's right hand moved half- 
 way out of his pocket and then was stayed, for by 
 the light of the match he saw a very singular sight. 
 
 Simon Rattar was not looking at him. His 
 eyes were focussed just before his nose where the 
 bowl of a pipe was beginning to glow. Carring- 
 ton could hear the lips gently sucking, and then 
 the aroma of tobacco came in a strong wave 
 through the trees. Finally the match went out, 
 and the glowing pipe began to move slowly along 
 the turf, keeping close to the shelter of the trees. 
 
 For a space Carrington stood petrified with 
 wonder, and then, very carefully and quite 
 silently, he worked his way through the trees out 
 on to the turf, and at once fell on his hands and 
 knees. Had any one been there to see, they would 
 have beheld for the next five minutes a strange 
 procession of two slowly moving along the edge 
 of the plantation; a thickset man in front smok- 
 ing a pipe and something like a great gorilla 
 stalking him from behind. This procession 
 skirted the plantation nearly down to the gate; 
 then it turned at right angles, following the line 
 of trees that bordered the wall between the gar- 
 den and the road ; and then again at right angles 
 when it had reached the further corner of Mr. 
 Rattar's demesne. Simon was now in a secluded 
 path with shrubs on either hand, and instead of 
 continuing his tour, he turned at the end of this 
 path and paced slowly back again. And seeing 
 this, the ape behind him squatted in the shadow 
 of a laurel and waited.
 
 276 SIMON 
 
 A steady breeze was now blowing and the trees 
 were sighing continuously. The sky at the same 
 time cleared, and more and more stars came out 
 till the eyes of the man behind the bush could 
 follow the moving man from end to end of the 
 path. The wind made the pipe smoke quickly, 
 and presently a shower of sparks showed that it 
 was being emptied, and in a minute or two an- 
 other match flashed and a second pipe glowed 
 faintly. 
 
 Backwards and forwards paced the lawyer, and 
 backwards and forwards again, but for the space 
 of nearly an hour from his first coming out, that 
 was everything that happened; and then at last 
 came a tapping of the bowl and more sparks fly- 
 ing abroad in the wind. The procession was re- 
 sumed, Simon in front, the ape-like form behind ; 
 but with a greater space between them this time as 
 the night was clearer, and now they were heading 
 for the house. The lawyer's steps crunched light- 
 ly on the gravel again, the front door opened and 
 closed, and Carrington was alone in the garden. 
 
 Still crawling, he reached the shelter of the belt 
 of trees and then rose and made swiftly for the 
 gate, and out into the road. As he passed under 
 a lamp, his face wore a totally new expression, 
 compounded of wonder, excitement, and urgent 
 thought. He was walking swiftly, and his pace 
 never slackened, nor did the keenness leave his 
 face, till he was back at the door of the Kings 
 Arms Hotel. Before he entered, he took off his 
 hat and turned up the brim again, and his man-
 
 IN THE GARDEN 277 
 
 ner when he tapped at the door of the man- 
 ageress' room was perfectly sedate. He let it ap- 
 pear, however, that he had some slight matter on 
 his mind. 
 
 "What is the name of Mr. Rattar's head 
 clerk?" he enquired. "An oldish, prim looking 
 man, with side whiskers." 
 
 "Oh, that will be Mr. Ison," said the man- 
 ageress. 
 
 "I have just remembered a bit of business I 
 ought to have seen about to-night," he continued. 
 "I can't very well call on Mr. Rattar himself at 
 this hour, but I was thinking of looking up Mr. 
 Ison if I could discover his whereabouts." 
 
 "The boots will show you the way to his house," 
 said she, and rang the bell. 
 
 While waiting for the boots, Mr. Carrington 
 asked another casual question or two and learned 
 that Mr. Ison had been in the office since he was 
 a boy. No man knew the house of Rattar 
 throughout its two generations better than Mr. 
 Ison, said Miss Peterkin; and she remembered 
 afterwards that this information seemed to give 
 Mr. Carrington peculiar satisfaction. He seemed 
 so gratified, indeed, that she wondered a little at 
 the time. 
 
 And then the visitor and the boots set out to- 
 gether for the clerk's house, and at what hour her 
 guest returned she was not quite sure. The 
 boots, it seemed, had been instructed to wait up 
 for him, but she had long gone to bed.
 
 XXXVI 
 
 THE WALKING STICK 
 
 HAD there been, next morning, any curious 
 eyes to watch the conduct of the gentleman who 
 had come to rent a sporting estate, they would 
 probably have surmised that he had found some- 
 thing to please his fancy strangely, and yet that 
 some perplexity still persisted. They would also 
 have put him down as a much more excitable, and 
 even demonstrative, young man than they had 
 imagined. On a lonely stretch of shore hard by 
 the Jittle town he paced for nearly an hour, his 
 face a record of the debate within, and his cane 
 gesticulating at intervals. 
 
 Of a sudden he stopped dead and his lips 
 moved in a murmured ejaculation, and then after 
 standing stock still for some minutes, he mur- 
 mured again : 
 
 "Ten to one on it!" 
 
 His cane had been stationary during this 
 pause. Now he raised it once more, but this time 
 with careful attention. It was a light bamboo 
 with a silver head. He looked at it thoughtfully, 
 bent it this way and that, and then drove it into 
 the sand and pressed it down. Though to the 
 ordinary eye a very chaste and appropriate walk- 
 ing stick for such a gentleman as Mr. Carring- 
 
 278
 
 THE WALKING STICK 279 
 
 ton, the result of these tests seemed to dissatisfy 
 him. He shook his head, and then with an air of 
 resolution set out for the town. 
 
 A little later he entered a shop where a number 
 of walking sticks were on view and informed the 
 proprietor that he desired to purchase something 
 more suitable for the country than the cane he 
 carried. In fact, his taste seemed now to run to 
 the very opposite extreme, for the points on 
 which he insisted were length, stiffness, and a 
 long and if possible somewhat pointed ferule. 
 At last he found one to his mind, left his own 
 cane to be sent down to the hotel, and walked 
 out with his new purchase. 
 
 His next call was at Mr. Simon Rattar's villa. 
 This morning he approached it without any of 
 the curious shyness he had exhibited on the occa- 
 sion of his recent visit. His advance was con- 
 ducted openly up the drive and in an erect pos- 
 ture, and he crossed the gravel space boldly, and 
 even jauntily, while his ring was firmness itself. 
 Mary answered the bell, and her pleasure at see- 
 ing so soon again the sympathetic gentleman with 
 the eye glass was a tribute to his tact. 
 
 "Good morning, Mary," said he, with an air 
 that combined very happily the courtesy of a 
 gentleman with the freedom of an old friend, 
 "Mr. Rattar is at his office, I presume." 
 
 She said that he was, but this time the visitor 
 exhibited neither surprise nor disappointment. 
 
 "I thought he would be," he confessed confi- 
 dentially, "and I have come to see whether I
 
 280 SIMON 
 
 couldn't do something to help you to get at the 
 bottom of these troublesome goings on. Any- 
 thing fresh happened?" 
 
 "The master was out in the garden again last 
 night, sir!" said she. 
 
 "Was he really?" cried Mr. Carrington. "By 
 Jove, how curious! We really must look into 
 that : in fact, I've got an idea I want you to help 
 me with. By the way, it sounds an odd question 
 to ask about Mr. Rattar, but have you ever seen 
 any sign of a pipe or tobacco in the house?" 
 
 "Oh, never indeed !" said she. "The master has 
 never been a smoking gentleman. Quite against 
 smoking he's always been, sir." 
 
 "Ever since you have known him?" 
 
 "Oh, and before that, sir." 
 
 "Ah!" observed Mr. Carrington in a manner 
 that suggested nothing whatever. "Well, Mary, 
 I want this morning to have a look round the 
 garden." 
 
 Her eyes opened. 
 
 "Because the master walks there at nights?" 
 
 He nodded confidentially. 
 
 "But but if he was to know you'd been inter- 
 fering, sir I mean what he'd think was inter- 
 fering, sir 
 
 "He shan't know," he assured her. "At least 
 not if you'll do what I tell you. I want you to go 
 now and have a nice quiet talk with cook for half 
 an hour half an hour by the kitchen clock, Mary, 
 if you don't look out of the window, you won't 
 know that I'm in the garden, and then nobody
 
 THE WALKING STICK 281 
 
 can blame you whatever happens. We haven't 
 mentioned the word 'garden' between us so you 
 are out of it ! Remember that." 
 
 He smiled so pleasantly that Mary smiled 
 back. 
 
 "I'll remember, sir," said she. "And cook is to 
 be kept talking in the kitchen?" 
 
 "You've tumbled to it exactly, Mary. If 
 neither of you see me, neither of you know any- 
 thing at all." 
 
 She got a last glimpse of his sympathetic smile 
 as she closed the door, and then she went faith- 
 fully to the kitchen for her talk with cook. It 
 was quite a pleasant gossip at first, but half an 
 hour is a long time to keep talking, when one has 
 been asked not to stop sooner, and it so happened, 
 moreover, that cook was somewhat busy that 
 morning and began at length to indicate dis- 
 tinctly that unless her friend had some matter of 
 importance to communicate she would regard 
 further verbiage with disfavour. At this junc- 
 ture Mary decided that twenty minutes was prac- 
 tically as good as half an hour, and the conversa- 
 tion ceased. 
 
 Passing out of the kitchen regions, Mary 
 glanced towards a distant window, hesitated, and 
 then came to another decision. Mr. Carrington 
 must surely have left the garden now, so there 
 was no harm in peeping out. She went to the 
 window and peeped. 
 
 It was only a two minutes' peep, for Mr. Car- 
 rington had not left the garden, and at the end
 
 282 SIMON 
 
 of that space of time something very disturbing 
 happened. But it was long enough to make her 
 marvel greatly at her sympathetic friend's 
 method of solving the riddle of the master's 
 conduct. When she first saw him, he seemed to 
 be smoothing the earth in one of the flower beds 
 with his foot. Then he moved on a few paces, 
 stopped, and drove his walking stick hard into 
 the bed. She saw him lean on it to get it further 
 in and apparently twist it about a little. And 
 then he withdrew it again and was in the act of 
 smoothing the place when she saw him glance 
 sharply towards the gate, and the next instant 
 leap behind a bush. Simultaneously the hum 
 of a motor car fell on her ear, and Mary was 
 out of the room and speeding upstairs. 
 
 She heard the car draw up before the house 
 and listened for the front door bell, but the door 
 opened without a ring and she marvelled and 
 trembled afresh. That the master should re- 
 turn in a car at this hour of the morning seemed 
 surely to be connected with the sin she had con- 
 nived at. It swelled into a crime as she held 
 her breath and listened. She wished devoutly 
 she had never set eyes on the insinuating Mr. 
 Carrington. 
 
 But there came no call for her, or no ringing 
 of any bell; merely sounds of movement in the 
 hall below, heard through the thrumming of the 
 waiting car. And then the front door opened 
 and shut again and she ventured to the window. 
 It was a little open and she could hear her master
 
 THE WALKING STICK 283 
 
 speak to the chauffeur as he got in. He was now 
 wearing, she noticed, a heavy overcoat. A mo- 
 ment more and he was off again, down the drive, 
 and out through the gates. When she remem- 
 bered to look again for her sympathetic friend, he 
 was quietly driving his walking stick once more 
 into a flower bed. 
 
 About ten minutes afterwards the front door 
 bell rang and there stood Mr. Carrington again. 
 His eye seemed strangely bright, she thought, 
 but his manner was calm and soothing as ever. 
 
 "I noticed Mr. Rattar return," he said, "and 
 I thought I would like to make sure that it was 
 all right, before I left. I trust, Mary, that you 
 have got into no trouble on my account." 
 
 She thought it was very kind of him to enquire. 
 
 "The master was only just in and out again," 
 she assured him. 
 
 "He came to get his overcoat, I noticed," he 
 remarked. 
 
 Mr. Carrington's powers of observation struck 
 her as very surprising for such an easy-going 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Yes, sir, that was all." 
 
 "Well, I'm very glad it was all right," he 
 smiled and began to turn away. "By the way," 
 he asked, turning back, "did he tell you where 
 he is going to now?" 
 
 "He didn't see me, sir." 
 
 "You didn't happen to overhear him giving 
 any directions to the chauffeur, did you? I 
 noticed you at an open window."
 
 284 SIMON 
 
 For the first time Mary's sympathetic friend 
 began to make her feel a trifle uncomfortable. 
 His eyes seemed to be everywhere. 
 
 "I thought I heard him say 'Keldale House,' ' 
 she confessed. 
 
 "Really!" he exclaimed and seemed to muse 
 for a moment. In fact, he appeared to be still 
 musing as he walked away. 
 
 Mary began to wonder very seriously whether 
 Mr. Carrington was going to prove merely a 
 fresh addition to the disquieting mysteries of that 
 house.
 
 XXXVII 
 
 BISSET'S ADVICE 
 
 THE short November afternoon was fading 
 into a gusty evening, as Ned Cromarty drew 
 near his fortalice. He carried a gun as usual, 
 and as usual walked with seven league strides. 
 Where the drive passed through the scrap of 
 stunted plantation it was already dusk and the 
 tortured boughs had begun their night of sighs 
 and tossings. Beyond them, pale daylight lin- 
 gered and the old house stood up still dear 
 against a broken sky and a grey waste with flit- 
 ting whitecaps all the way to the horizon. He 
 had almost reached the front door when he heard 
 the sound of wheels behind him. Pausing there, 
 he spied a pony and a governess' car, with two 
 pesple distinct enough to bring a sudden light 
 into his eye. The pony trotted briskly towards 
 the door, and he took a stride to meet them. 
 
 "Miss Farmond!" he said. 
 
 A low voice answered, and though he could not 
 catch the words, the tone was enough for him. 
 And then another voice said: 
 
 "Aye, sir, I've brought her over." 
 
 "Bisset!" said he. "It's you, is it? Well, 
 what's happened?" 
 
 He was lifting her out of the trap and not 
 
 285
 
 286 SIMON 
 
 hesitating to hold her hand a little longer than 
 he had ever held it before, now that he could 
 see her face quite plainly and read what was in 
 her eyes. 
 
 "I've dared to come after all!" she said, with a 
 little smile, which seemed to hint that she knew 
 the risk was over now. 
 
 "I advised her vera strongly, sir, to come over 
 with me to Stanesland," explained her escort. 
 "The young lady has had a trying experience at 
 Keldale, and forby the fair impossibility of 
 her stopping on under the unfortunate circum- 
 stances, I was of the opinion that the sea air 
 would be a fine change and the architectural fea- 
 tures remarkably interesting. In fac', sir, I 
 practically insisted that Miss Farmond had just 
 got to come." 
 
 "Good man!" said Ned. "Come in and tell 
 me the unfortunate circumstances." He bent 
 over Cicely and in a lowered voice added: "Per- 
 sonally I call 'em fortunate so long as they 
 haven't been too beastly for you!" 
 
 "It's all right now!" she murmured, and as 
 they went up the steps he found, somehow or 
 other, her hand for an instant in his again. 
 
 "If you'll stand by your pony for a moment, 
 Bisset, I'll send out some one to take her," he 
 said with happy inspiration. 
 
 But Mr. Bisset was not so easily shaken off. 
 
 "She'll stand fine for a wee while," he assured 
 his host. "You'll be the better of hearing all 
 about it from me."
 
 BISSET'S ADVICE 28? 
 
 They went into the smoking room and the 
 escort began forthwith. 
 
 "The fact is, Mr. Cromarty, that yon man 
 Simon Rattar is a fair discredit. Miss Farmond 
 has been telling me the haill story of her run- 
 ning away, and your ain vera seasonable appear- 
 ance and judicious conduct, sir; which I am 
 bound to say, Mr. Cromarty, is neither more nor 
 less than I'd have expectit of a gentleman of 
 your intelligence. Weel, to continue, Miss Far- 
 mond acted on your advice which would have 
 been my own, sir, under the circumstances and 
 tellt her ladyship the plain facts. Weel then 
 
 "And what did Lady Cromarty say to you?" 
 demanded Ned. 
 
 "Hardly a word. She simply looked at me 
 and said she would send for Mr. Rattar." 
 
 Not a whit rebuffed, Mr. Bisset straightway 
 resumed his narrative. 
 
 "A perfectly proper principle if the man was 
 capable of telling the truth. I'm no blaming her 
 ladyship at that point, but where she departit 
 from the proper principles of evidence " 
 
 "When did Rattar come?" 
 
 "This morning," said Cicely. "And can you 
 believe it? he absolutely denied that he had 
 ever advised me to go away!" 
 
 "I can believe it," said Ned grimly. "And I 
 suppose Lady Cromarty believed him?" 
 
 "God, but you're right, sir!" cried Bisset. 
 "Your deductions are perfectly correct. Yon 
 man had the impudence to give the haill thing a
 
 288 SIMON 
 
 flat denial! And then naturally Miss Farmond 
 was for off, but at first her ladyship was no for 
 letting her go. Indeed she went the length of 
 sending for me and telling me the young lady 
 was not to be permitted to shift her luggage out 
 of the house or use any conveyance." 
 
 "But Bisset was splendid!" cried Cicely. "Do 
 you know what the foolish man did? He gave 
 up his situation and took me away!" 
 
 Bisset, the man, permitted a gleam of pleasure 
 to illuminate his blunt features; but Bisset, the 
 philosopher, protested with some dignity. 
 
 "It was a mere matter of principle, sir. De- 
 tention of luggage like yon is no legal. I tellt 
 her ladyship flatly that she'd find herself afore 
 the Shirra', and that I was no going to abet any 
 such proceedings. I further informed her, sir, of 
 my candid opinion of Simon Rattar, and I said 
 plainly that he was probably meaning to marry 
 her and get the estate under his thumb, and these 
 were the kind o' tricks rascally lawyers took in 
 foolish women wi'." 
 
 "You told Lady Cromarty that!" exclaimed 
 Ned. "And what did she say?" 
 
 "We had a few disagreeable passages, as it 
 were, sir," said the philosopher calmly. "And 
 then I borrowed yon trap and having advised 
 Miss Farmond to come to Stanesland and she 
 being amenable, I just brought her along to you." 
 
 "Oh, it was on your advice then?" 
 
 "Yes, sir."
 
 BISSET'S ADVICE 289 
 
 Cicely and her host exchanged one fleeting 
 glance and then looked extremely unconscious. 
 
 "She's derned wise!" said he to himself. 
 
 He held out his hand to the gratified coun- 
 sellor. 
 
 "Well done, Bisset, you've touched your top 
 form to-day, and I may tell you I've been want- 
 ing some one like you badly for a long while, if 
 you are willing to stay on with me. Put that 
 in your pipe, Bisset, and smoke over it! And 
 now, you know your way, go and get yourself 
 some tea, and a drink of the wildest poison you 
 fancy!" 
 
 Hardly was the door closed behind him than 
 the laird put his fate to the test as promptly and 
 directly as he did most other things. 
 
 "I want you to stop on too, Cicely for ever. 
 Will you?" 
 
 Her eyes, shyly questioning for a moment and 
 then shyly tender, answered his question before 
 her lips had moved, and it would have been hard 
 to convince them that the minutes which followed 
 ever had a parallel within human experience. 
 
 A little later he confessed: 
 
 "Do you know, Cicely, I've always had a funky 
 feeling that if I ever proposed my glass eye 
 would drop out!" 
 
 The next event was the somewhat sudden entry 
 of Lilian Cromarty, and that lady's self control 
 was never more severely tested or brilliantly vin- 
 dicated. One startled glance, and then she was 
 saying, briskly, and with the old bright smile:
 
 290 SIMON 
 
 "A telegram for you, Ned." 
 
 "Thanks," said he. "By the way, here's the 
 future Mrs. Ned that's to say if she doesn't 
 funk it before the wedding." 
 
 Lilian's welcome, Lilian's embrace, and Lil- 
 ian's congratulations were alike perfect. Cicely 
 wondered how people could ever have said the 
 critical things of her which some of her acquain- 
 tances were unkind enough to say at times. As 
 to Bisset's dictum regarding the lady in the 
 castle, that was manifestly absurd on the face 
 of it. Miss Cromarty was clearly overjoyed to 
 hear of her brother's engagement. 
 
 "And now, Neddy dear!" cried the bright lady, 
 "tell me how it all came about!" 
 
 Ned looked up from his telegram with a glint 
 in his eye that was hardly a lover's glance. 
 
 "Cicely will tell you all about it," said he. "I'm 
 afraid I've got to be off pretty well as quick as 
 I can." 
 
 He handed them the wire and they read: 
 "Meet me eight to-night Kings Arms urgent. 
 Carrington." 
 
 "From Mr. Carrington!" exclaimed his sister. 
 
 Ned smiled. 
 
 "Cicely will explain him too," he said. "By 
 Gad, I wonder if this is going to be the finishing 
 bit of luck!" 
 
 In another twenty minutes the lights of his 
 gig lamps were raking the night.
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 TRAPPED 
 
 CROMARTY and Carrington slipped unosten- 
 tatiously out of the hotel a few minutes after 
 eight o'clock. 
 
 "Take any line you like," said Carrington, 
 "but as he knows now that you brought Miss 
 Farmond back and have heard her version, he'll 
 naturally be feeling a little uncomfortable about 
 the place where one generally gets kicked, when 
 he sees you march in. He will expect you to 
 open out on that subject, so if I were you I'd 
 take the natural line of country and do what he 
 expects." 
 
 "Including the kicking?" 
 
 Carrington laughed. 
 
 "Keep him waiting for that. Spin it out; 
 that's your job to-night." 
 
 "I wish it were more than talking !" said Ned. 
 
 "Well," drawled Carrington, "it may lead to 
 something more amusing. Who knows? You 
 haven't bought your own gun, I suppose? Take 
 mine." 
 
 He handed him the same little article he 
 had taken out the night before, and Ned's eye 
 gleamed. 
 
 291
 
 292 SIMON 
 
 "What!" said he. "That kind of gun once 
 more? This reminds me of old times!" 
 
 "It's a mere precaution," said the other. "Don't 
 count on using it! Remember, you're going to 
 visit the most respectable citizen of the town 
 perhaps on a wild goose errand." 
 
 "I guess not," said Ned quietly. 
 
 "We daren't assume anything. I don't want 
 to make a fool of myself, and no more do you, 
 I take it." 
 
 "I see," said Ned, with a nod. "Well, I'll keep 
 him in his chair for you." 
 
 "That's it." 
 
 They were walking quickly through the silent 
 town under the windy night sky. It was a dark 
 boisterous evening, not inviting for strollers, and 
 they scarcely passed a soul till they were in the 
 quiet road where the villa stood. There, from 
 the shadows of a gateway, two figures moved out 
 to meet them, and Cromarty recognised Superin- 
 tendent Sutherland and one of his constables. 
 The two saluted in silence and fell in behind. 
 They each carried, he noticed, something long- 
 shaped wrapped up loosely in sacking. 
 
 "What have they got there?" he asked. 
 
 "Prosaic instruments," smiled Carrington. "I 
 won't tell you more for fear the gamble doesn't 
 come off." 
 
 "Like the sensation before one proposes, I 
 suppose," said Ned. "Well, going by that, the 
 omens ought to be all right."
 
 TRAPPED 293 
 
 They turned in through Simon's gates and 
 then the four stopped. 
 
 "We part here," whispered Carrington. "Good 
 luck!" 
 
 "Same to you," said Ned briefly, and strode 
 up the drive. 
 
 As he came out into the gravel sweep before 
 the house, he looked hard into the darkness of 
 the garden, but beyond the tossing shapes of 
 trees, there was not a sign of movement. 
 
 "Mr. Rattar in?" he enquired. "Sitting in the 
 library I suppose? Take me right to him. 
 Cromarty's my name." 
 
 "Mr. Cromarty to see you, sir," announced 
 Mary, and she was startled to see the master's 
 sudden turn in his chair and the look upon his 
 face. 
 
 "Whether he was feared or whether he was 
 angered, I canna rightly say," she told cook, "but 
 anyway he looked fair mad like!" 
 
 "Good evening," said Ned. 
 
 His voice was restrained and dry, and as he 
 spoke he strode across the room and seated him- 
 self deliberately in the arm chair on the side of 
 the fire opposite to the lawyer. 
 
 Simon had banished that first look which Mary 
 saw, but there remained in his eyes something 
 more than their usual cold stare. Each day since 
 Carrington came seemed to have aged his face 
 and changed it for the worse: a haggard, ugly, 
 malicious face it seemed to his visitor looking
 
 294 SIMON 
 
 hard at it to-night. His only greeting was a 
 briefer grunt than ordinary. 
 
 "I daresay you can guess what's brought me 
 here," said Ned. 
 
 The lawyer rapped out his first words jerkily. 
 
 "No. I can't." 
 
 "Try three guesses," suggested his visitor. 
 "Come now, number one ?" 
 
 For a moment Simon was silent, but to-night 
 he could not hide the working of that face which 
 usually hid his thoughts so effectually. It was 
 plain he hesitated what line to take. 
 
 "You have seen Miss Farmond, I hear," he 
 said. 
 
 "You're on the scent," said his visitor encour- 
 agingly. "Have another go." 
 
 "You believe her story." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "It's false." 
 
 Ned stared at him very hard and then he 
 spoke deliberately. 
 
 "I'm wondering," said he. 
 
 "Wondering what?" asked Simon. 
 
 "Whether a horse whip or the toe of a shooting 
 boot is the best cure for your complaint." 
 
 The lawyer shrank back into his chair. 
 
 "Do you threaten me?" he jerked out. "Be 
 careful!" 
 
 "If I threatened you I'd certainly do what I 
 threatened," said Ned. "So far I'm only won- 
 dering. Where did you learn to lie, Mr. Rattar?" 
 
 The lawyer made no answer at all. His mind
 
 TRAPPED 295 
 
 seemed concentrated on guessing the other's prob- 
 able actions. 
 
 "Out with it, man ! I've met some denied good 
 liars in my time, but you beat the lot. I'm 
 anxious to know where you learned the trick, 
 that's all." 
 
 "Why do you believe her more than me?" 
 asked Simon. 
 
 "Because you've been found out lying before. 
 That was a pretty stiff one about your engaging 
 Carrington, wasn't it?" 
 
 Simon was quite unable to control his violent 
 start, and his face turned whiter. 
 
 "I I didn't say I did," he stammered. 
 
 "Well," said Ned, "I admit I wasn't there to 
 hear you, but I know Carrington made you put 
 your foot fairly in it just by way of helping 
 him to size you up, and he got your size right 
 enough too." 
 
 "Then " began Simon, and stopped and 
 
 changed it into : "What does Carrington suspect 
 er accuse me of?" 
 
 Ned stared at him for several seconds without 
 speaking, and this procedure seemed to discon- 
 cert the lawyer more than anything had done 
 yet. 
 
 "What what does Carrington mean?" he re- 
 peated. 
 
 "He means you've lied, and he believes Miss 
 Farmond, and he believes Sir Malcolm, and he 
 believes me, and he puts you down as a pretty
 
 296 SIMON 
 
 bad egg. What did you expect to be accused 
 of?" 
 
 Simon could no more hide his relief to-night 
 than he could hide his fears. 
 
 "Only of what you have told me only of 
 course of what you say! But I can explain. 
 In good time I can explain." 
 
 It was at that moment that the door opened 
 sharply and the start the lawyer gave showed the 
 state of his nerves after Mr. Cromarty's hand- 
 ling. Mary MacLean stood in the doorway, her 
 face twitching. 
 
 "What's the matter?" snapped her master. 
 
 "Please, sir, there are men in the garden!" 
 she cried. 
 
 The lawyer leapt to his feet. 
 
 "Men in the garden!" he cried, and there was 
 a note in his voice which startled even tough Ned 
 Cromarty. "What are they doing?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir. It sounded almost as if 
 they was digging." 
 
 Simon swayed for an instant and grasped the 
 back of his chair. Then in a muffled voice he 
 muttered : 
 
 "I'm going to see!" 
 
 He had scarcely made a step towards the door 
 when Cromarty was on his feet too. 
 
 "Steady!" he cried. "Get out there, and shut 
 the door!" 
 
 The towering form and formidable voice sent 
 Mary out with a shut door between them almost 
 as the command was off his tongue. A couple
 
 TRAPPED 297 
 
 of strides and he had got the lawyer by the 
 shoulder and pulled him back. 
 
 "Sit down!" he commanded. 
 
 Simon turned on him with a new expression. 
 The terror had passed away and he stood there 
 now as the sheer beast at bay. 
 
 "Damn you !" he muttered, and turned his back 
 for a moment. 
 
 The next, his hand rose and simultaneously 
 Ned's arm shot out and got him by the wrist, 
 while the shock of his onslaught drove the man 
 back and down into his chair. Though Simon 
 was tough and stoutly built, he was as a child in 
 the hands of his adversary. A sharp twist of the 
 wrist was followed by an exclamation of pain and 
 the thud of something heavy on the floor. Ned 
 stooped and picked up the globular glass match 
 box that had stood on the table. For a few 
 moments he stared at it in dead silence, balancing 
 it in his hands. It was like a small cannon ball 
 for concentrated weight. Then in a curious voice 
 he asked: 
 
 "Is this the first time you have used this?" 
 
 Simon made no reply. His face was dead 
 white now, but dogged and grim, and his mouth 
 stayed tight as a trap. Ned replaced the match 
 box on the table, and planted himself before the 
 fire. 
 
 "Nothing to say?" he asked, and Simon said 
 nothing. 
 
 They remained like this for minute after min- 
 ute; not a movement in the room and the boom-
 
 298 SIMON 
 
 ing of the wind the only sound. And then came 
 footsteps on the gravel and the ringing of a bell. 
 
 "We'll probably learn something now," said 
 Ned, but the other still said nothing, and only a 
 quick glance towards the door gave a hint of his 
 thoughts. 
 
 There was no announcement this time. Super- 
 intendent Sutherland entered first, then the con- 
 stable, and Carrington last. The superintendent 
 went straight up to the lawyer, his large face 
 preternaturally solemn. Touching him on the 
 shoulder he said: 
 
 "I arrest you in the King's name!" 
 
 The man in the chair half started up and then 
 fell back again. 
 
 "What for?" he asked huskily. 
 
 "The murder of Simon Rattar." 
 
 The lawyer took it as one who had seen the 
 sword descending, but not so Ned Cromarty. 
 
 "Of Simon Rattar!" he shouted. "What the 
 then who the devil is this?" 
 
 Carrington answered. He spoke with his usual 
 easy smile, but his triumphant eye betrayed his 
 heart. 
 
 "The superintendent has omitted part of the 
 usual formalities," he said. "This person should 
 have been introduced as Mr. George Rattar." 
 
 "George!" gasped Ned. "But I thought he 
 was dead !" 
 
 "So did I," said Carrington, "but he wasn't." 
 
 "What proof have you of this story?" de- 
 demanded the man in the chair suddenly.
 
 TRAPPED 299 
 
 "We have just dug up your brother's body 
 from that flower bed," said Carrington quietly. 
 "Do you recognise his ring?" 
 
 He held up a gold signet ring, and the lawyer 
 fell back in his chair. 
 
 "But look here!" exclaimed Ned, "what about 
 Sir Reginald's murder? He did that too, I 
 suppose!" 
 
 Carrington nodded. 
 
 "We hope to add that to his account in a day 
 or two. This is enough to be going on with, but 
 as a matter of fact we have nearly enough evi- 
 dence now to add the other charge." 
 
 "I can add one bit," said Ned, picking up the 
 match box. "He has just tried to do me in with 
 this little thing, and I take it, it was the third 
 time of using." 
 
 Carrington weighed it in his hand, and then 
 said to the prisoner : 
 
 "You put it in the end of a stocking, I sup- 
 pose?" 
 
 The man looked up at him with a new expres- 
 sion in his eye. If it were not a trace of grim 
 humour, it was hard to say what else it could be. 
 
 "Get me a drink," he said huskily, nodding 
 towards the tantalus on the side table, "and I'll 
 tell you the whole damned yarn. My God, I'm 
 dry as a damned bone!" 
 
 "Give me the key of the tantalus," said Car- 
 rington promptly. 
 
 But the superintendent seemed somewhat 
 taken aback.
 
 300 SIMON 
 
 "Anything you say may be used against you," 
 he reminded the prisoner. 
 
 "You know enough to swing me, anyhow/' 
 said Rattar, "hut I'd like you to know that I 
 didn't really mean to do it. I want that drink- 
 first though!" 
 
 He took the glass of whisky and water and as 
 he raised it to his lips, that same curious look 
 came back into his eye. 
 
 "Here's to the firm of S. and G. Rattar, and 
 may their clients be as damned as themselves!" 
 he said with a glance at Cromarty, and finished 
 the drink at a draught.
 
 THE YARN 
 
 "I NEEDN'T trouble you with my adventures 
 before I came down her to visit brother Simon," 
 began the prisoner, "for you know them well 
 enough. It was about a month ago when I 
 turned up at this house one night." 
 
 "How did you get here?" demanded the super- 
 intendent. 
 
 "I did the last bit under the seat of the car- 
 riage," grinned Rattar, "and when we got into 
 the station I hopped out on the wrong side of 
 the train. The way I paid my fare wasn't bad 
 either, considering I hadn't half of the fare from 
 London in my pocket when I started or any- 
 thing like it. However, the point is I got here 
 and just as I'd come through the gates I had 
 the luck to see both the maids going out. So 
 the coast was clear. 
 
 "Well, I rang the bell and out came Simon 
 the man who'd got me convicted, and my own 
 brother too, mind you! looking as smug as the 
 hard-hearted old humbug he was. He got the 
 shock of his life when he saw who it was, but 
 I began gently and I put a proposition to him. 
 I'll bet none of you will guess what it was!" 
 
 301
 
 302 SIMON 
 
 He looked round the company, and Carring- 
 ton answered: 
 
 "Blackmail of some sort." 
 
 "You may call it blackmail if you like, but 
 what was the sort? Well, you'd never guess. I 
 was wearing a beard and moustaches then, but I 
 knew if I took them off I'd look so like Simon 
 that no one meeting one of us would know which 
 it was, supposing we were dressed exactly alike 
 and I did Simon's grunting tricks and all that. 
 And Simon knew it too. 
 
 " 'Well, Simon, my dear brother,' I said to 
 him, 'I'll make you a sporting proposition. My 
 idea is to settle down in this old place, and I'm 
 so fond of you I mean to shave, get an outfit just 
 like yours, and give free rein to my aff ection for 
 you. I'm so fond of you,' I said, 'that I know 
 I shan't be able to keep more than five yards 
 away from you whenever you are walking the 
 streets, and I'll have to sit in church beside you, 
 Simon. That's my present programme.' 
 
 "I let that sink in, and then I went on : 
 
 " 'Supposing this programme embarrasses you, 
 Simon, well there's one way out of it, and I leave 
 it to your judgment to say what it is.' 
 
 "Now, mind you, I'd banked on this coming 
 off, for I knew what a stickler Simon was for the 
 respectable and the conventional and all that. 
 Can't you see the two of us going through the 
 streets together, five yards apart and dressed 
 exactly alike! Wouldn't the small boys have 
 liked it! That was my only idea in coming down
 
 THE YARN 303 
 
 here. I meant no more mischief, I'll swear to 
 that! Unfortunately, though, I'd got so keen on 
 the scheme that I hadn't thought of its weak 
 spot. 
 
 "Simon said not a word, but just looked at me 
 exactly as I've been looking at people since I 
 took his place in society. And then he asked me 
 if I was really very hard up. Like a fool I told 
 him the plain truth, that I had inside of five 
 bob in my pockets and that w r as every penny I 
 owned in the world. 
 
 "He grinned then I can see him grinning 
 now and he said: 
 
 ' 'In that case you'll have a little difficulty in 
 paying your board and lodging here, and still 
 more in buying clothes. I tell you what I'll do,' 
 he said, 'I'll buy a ticket back to London for you 
 and leave it with the stationmaster, and that's 
 every penny you'll ever get out of me !' 
 
 "I saw he had me, but I wasn't going off on 
 those terms. I damned him to his face and he 
 tried to shut the door on me. We were talking 
 at the front door all this while, I may mention. 
 I got my foot in the way, and as I was always 
 a bit stronger than Simon, I had that door open 
 after a tussle and then I followed him into the 
 library. 
 
 "I knew the man was hard as flint and never 
 showed mercy to any one in his life when he had 
 them on toast, and I knew he had me on toast. 
 How was I to get any change out of him? That 
 was what I was wondering as I followed him,
 
 304 SIMON 
 
 and then all at once something the devil if you 
 like put the idea into my head. I'd be Simon!" 
 
 He looked round on his audience as though he 
 still relished the memory of that inspiration. 
 
 "The beauty of the idea was that no one would 
 ever dream of suspecting a man of not being him- 
 self ! They might suspect him of a lot of things, 
 but not of that. I hadn't thought of the scheme 
 ten seconds before I realised how dead safe it 
 was so long as I kept my head. And I have kept 
 it. No one can deny that!" 
 
 His glance this time challenged a contradiction, 
 but no one spoke. The circle of steadfast eyes 
 and silent lips he seemed to take as a tribute to 
 his address, for he smiled and then went on : 
 
 "Yes, I kept my head from the beginning. I 
 stood talking to him in this very room, he refus- 
 ing to answer anything except to repeat that he'd 
 buy a ticket to London and leave it with the 
 stationmaster, and I working out the scheme 
 what to do it with and how to manage afterwards. 
 I knew it was a swinging risk, but against that 
 was a starving certainty, and then I spied that 
 match box and the thing was settled. I got him 
 to look the other way for a moment and then he 
 was settled. Give me another drink!" 
 
 Carrington got him a drink and he gulped it 
 down, and then turned suddenly on Ned Crom- 
 arty. 
 
 "Your damned glass eye has been getting on 
 my nerves long enough!" he exclaimed. "My 
 God, that eye and your habit of hanging people
 
 THE YARN 305 
 
 I've had enough of them! Can't you turn it 
 away from me?" 
 
 "Won't turn,'* said Ned coolly, "spring broken. 
 Get on with your story!" 
 
 Even in his privileged position as prisoner, 
 Rattar seemed disinclined to have trouble with 
 his formidable ex-client. He answered nothing, 
 but turned his shoulder to him and continued: 
 
 "After that was over I set about covering my 
 tracks. The first part was the worst. Before 
 the maids came back I had to get Simon stowed 
 away for the night no time to bury him then of 
 course, and I had to get into his clothes, shave, 
 and learn the lie of the house and all that. I did 
 it all right and came down to breakfast next 
 morning and passed muster with the servants, 
 and never a suspicion raised!" 
 
 "There was a little," remarked Carrington, 
 "but never enough." 
 
 "Not enough was good enough!" 
 
 "I am not quite certain of that," said Carring- 
 ton. "However, go on. Your next bunker was 
 the office." 
 
 The prisoner nodded. 
 
 "It took some nerve," he said complacently, 
 "and I'm free to confess that to begin with I 
 always had a beastly feeling that some one was 
 watching me and spotting something that didn't 
 look quite right, but, good Lord, keeping my 
 head the way I kept it, there was nothing to 
 worry about! Who would ever think that the 
 Simon Rattar who walked into his office and
 
 306 SIMON 
 
 grunted at his clerks on Wednesday morning, 
 wasn't the same Simon Rattar who walked in 
 and grunted on Tuesday morning? And then I 
 had one tremendous pull in knowing all the ropes 
 from old days. Simon was a conservative man, 
 nothing was ever changed not even the clerks, 
 so I had the whole routine at my fingers. And 
 he was an easy man to imitate too. That was 
 where I scored again. I daresay I have inherited 
 some of the same tricks myself. I know I found 
 them come quite easy the stare and the silence 
 and the grunts and the rest of them. And then 
 I always had more brains than Simon and could 
 pick up business quicker. You should have heard 
 me making that ass Malcolm Cromarty, and the 
 Farmond girl, and this hangman with the glass 
 eye tell me all about themselves and what their 
 business was, without their ever suspecting they 
 were being pumped! For, mind you, I'd never 
 set eyes on Malcolm Cromarty or the Farmond 
 girl before in my life ! No, it wasn't at the office 
 I had the nastiest time. It was burying the body 
 that night." 
 
 The boastful smile died off his lips and for a 
 moment he shivered a little. 
 
 "What happened about that?" enquired Car- 
 rington keenly. 
 
 Rattar's voice instinctively fell a little. 
 
 "When I got home that afternoon I found he 
 wasn't quite dead after all I" 
 
 "That accounts for it!" murmured Carrington. 
 
 "For what?"
 
 THE YARN 307 
 
 "Your maid heard him moving." 
 
 The prisoner seemed to have recovered from 
 his passing" emotion. 
 
 "And I told her it was a rat, and she swal- 
 lowed it !" he laughed. "Well, he didn't move for 
 long, and I had fixed up quite a good scheme for 
 getting him out of the house. A man was to call 
 for old papers. I even did two voices talking in 
 the hall to make the bluff complete ! Not being 
 able to get his ring off his finger rather worried 
 me, but I put that right by an advertisement in 
 the paper saying I'd lost it!" 
 
 He was arrested by the look on Carrington's 
 face. 
 
 "What happened?" he exclaimed. "Do you 
 mean to say that gave me away ?" 
 
 "Those superfluous precautions generally give 
 people away." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 "It doesn't matter now. You'll learn later. 
 What next?" 
 
 "Next?" said Rattar. "Well, I just went on 
 
 keeping my head and bluffing people " he 
 
 broke off, looked at Superintendent Sutherland, 
 and gave a short laugh. "I only lost my nerve a 
 bit once, and that was when the glass-eyed hang- 
 man butted in and said he was going to get down 
 a detective. It struck me then it was time I was 
 off and what's more, I started!" 
 
 The superintendent's mouth fell open. 
 
 "You you weren't the man ' he began. 
 
 "Yes," scoffed the prisoner, "I was the man
 
 308 SIMON 
 
 with toothache in that empty carriage. I'd got 
 in at the wrong side after the ticket collector 
 passed and just about twenty seconds before you 
 opened the door. But the sight of your red face 
 made me change my plans, and I was out again 
 before that train started! A bright policeman 
 you are! After that I decided to stick it out and 
 face the music; and I faced it." 
 
 His mouth shut tight and he sat back in his 
 chair, his eyes travelling round the others as 
 though to mark their unwilling admiration. He 
 certainly saw it in the faces of the two open- 
 eyed policemen, but Cromarty's was hard and 
 set, and he seemed still to be waiting. 
 
 " You haven't told us about Sir Reginald yet/' 
 he said. 
 
 Rattar looked at him defiantly. 
 
 "No evidence there," he said with a cunning 
 shake of his head, "y u can go on guessing 1" 
 
 "Would you like to smoke a pipe?" asked 
 Carrington suddenly. 
 
 The man's eyes gleamed. 
 
 "By God, yes!" 
 
 "You can have one if you tell us about Sir 
 Reginald. We've got you anyhow, and there 
 will be evidence enough there too when we've put 
 it together." 
 
 The superintendent looked a trifle shocked, but 
 Carrington's sway over him was by this time 
 evidently unbounded. He coughed an official 
 protest but said nothing.
 
 THE YARN 309 
 
 The prisoner only hesitated for a moment. He 
 saw Carrington taking out a cigarette, and then 
 he took out his keys and said: 
 
 "This is the key for that drawer. You'll find 
 my pipe and baccy there. I'll tell you the rest." 
 And then he started and exclaimed: "But how 
 the h did you know I smoked?" 
 
 "At five minutes past nine o'clock last night," 
 said Carrington, as he handed him his pipe, "I 
 was within three paces of you." 
 
 The prisoner stared at him with a wry face. 
 
 "You devil!" he murmured, and then added 
 with some philosophy: "After all, I'd sooner be 
 hanged than stop smoking." And with that he 
 lit his pipe. 
 
 "You want to know about old Cromarty," he 
 resumed. "Well, I made my first bad break 
 when I carried on a correspondence with him 
 which Simon had begun, not knowing they had 
 had a talk between whiles cancelling the whole 
 thing. You know about it and about the letter 
 Sir Reginald sent me after I'd written. Well, 
 when I got that letter I admit it rattled me a 
 bit. I've often wondered since whether he had 
 really suspected anything or whether he woufd 
 have sooner or later. Anyhow I got it into my 
 head that the game was up if something didn't 
 happen. And so it happened." 
 
 "You went and killed him?" said Ned. 
 
 "That's for you and your glass eye to find 
 out!" snapped the prisoner. 
 
 "Take his pipe away," said Carrington quietly.
 
 310 SIMON 
 
 "Damn it!" cried Rattar, "I'll tell you, only 
 I'm fed up with that man's hullying! I put it 
 in a stocking" (he nodded towards the match 
 box) "just as you guessed and I went out to 
 Keldale that night. My God, what a walk that 
 was in the dark! I'd half forgotten the way 
 down to the house and I thought every other 
 tree was a man watching me. I don't know yet 
 how I got to that library window. I remembered 
 his ways and I thought he'd be sitting up there 
 alone; but it was just a chance, and I'd no idea 
 I'd have the luck to pick a night when he was 
 sleeping in his dressing room. Give me another 
 drink!" 
 
 Carrington promptly brought one and again 
 it vanished almost in a gulp. 
 
 "Well, I saw him through a gap in the cur- 
 tains and I risked a tap on the glass. My God, 
 how surprised he was to see me standing there! 
 
 I grinned at him and he let me in, and then 
 
 He broke off and fell forward in his chair with 
 his face in his hands. "This whisky has gone to 
 my head!" he muttered. "You've mixed it too 
 damned strong!" 
 
 Ned Cromarty sprang up, his face working. 
 Carrington caught him by the arm. 
 
 "Let's come away," he said quietly. "We've 
 heard everything necessary. You can't touch 
 him now." 
 
 Cromarty let him keep his arm through his as 
 they went to the door.
 
 THE YARN 311 
 
 "I'll send a cab up for you in a few minutes," 
 Carrington added to the superintendent. 
 
 They left the prisoner still sitting muttering 
 into his hands.
 
 XL 
 
 THE LAST CHAPTER 
 
 ON their way down to the hotel Ned Cromarty 
 only spoke once, and that was to exclaim: 
 
 "If I'd only known when I had him alone! 
 Why didn't you tell me more before I went in?" 
 
 "For your own sake," said Carrington gently. 
 "The law is so devilish undiscriminating. Also, 
 I wasn't absolutely certain then myself." 
 
 They said nothing more till they were seated 
 in Carrington's sitting room and his employer 
 had got a cigar between his teeth and pushed 
 away an empty tumbler. 
 
 "I'm beginning to feel a bit better," said he. 
 "Fire away now and tell me how you managed 
 this trick. I'd like to see just how derned stupid 
 I've been!" 
 
 "My dear fellow, I assure you you haven't I 
 I'm a professional at this game, and I tell you 
 honestly it was at least as much good luck as 
 good guidance that put me on to the truth at 
 last." 
 
 "I wonder what you call luck," said Ned. 
 "Seems to me you were up against it all the 
 time! You've told me how you caught Rattar 
 lying at the start. Well, that was pretty smart 
 
 312
 
 THE LAST CHAPTER 813 
 
 of you to begin with. Then, what next? How 
 did things come?" 
 
 "Well," said Carrington, "I picked up a little 
 something on my first visit to Keldale. From 
 Bisset's description I gathered that the body 
 must have been dragged along the floor and left 
 near the door. Why? Obviously as a blind. 
 Adding that fact to the unfastened window, the 
 broken table, the mud on the floor, and the hearth 
 brush, the odds seemed heavy on entry by the 
 window. I also found that the middle blind had 
 been out of order that night and that it might 
 have been quite possible for any one outside to 
 have seen Sir Reginald sitting in the room and 
 known he was alone there. Again, it seemed long 
 odds on his having recognised the man outside 
 and opened the window himself, which, again, 
 pointed to the man being some one he knew quite 
 well and never suspected mischief from." 
 
 "Those were always my own ideas, except that 
 I felt bamboozled where you felt clear which 
 shows the difference between our brains !" 
 
 Carrington laughed and shook his head. 
 
 "I wish I could think so! No, no, it's merely 
 a case of every man to his own trade. And as a 
 matter of fact I was left just as bamboozled as 
 you were. For who could this mysterious man 
 be? Of the people inside the house, I had struck 
 out Miss Farmond, Bisset, Lady Cromarty, and 
 all the female servants. Only Sir Malcolm was 
 left. I wired for him to come up and was able 
 to score him out too. I also visited you and
 
 SIMON 
 
 scored you out. So there I was with no con- 
 ceivable criminal!" 
 
 "But you'd already begun to suspect Rattar, 
 hadn't you?" 
 
 "I knew he had lied about engaging me; I dis- 
 covered from Lady Cromarty that he had told 
 her of Sir Malcolm's engagement to Miss Far- 
 mond and I suspected he had started her sus- 
 picions of them ; and I saw that he was set on that 
 theory, in spite of the fact that it was palpably 
 improbable if one actually knew the people. Of 
 course if one didn't, it was plausible enough. 
 When I first came down here it seemed to me 
 a very likely theory and I was prepared to find 
 a guilty couple, but when I met Miss Farmond 
 and told her suddenly that Sir Malcolm was 
 arrested, and she gazed blankly at me and asked 
 'What for?' well r I simply ran my pencil, so to 
 speak, through her name and there was an end 
 of her I The same with Sir Malcolm when I met 
 him. And yet here was the family lawyer, who 
 knew them both perfectly, so convinced of their 
 guilt that he was obviously stifling investigation 
 in any other direction. And on top of all that, 
 all my natural instincts and intuitions told me 
 that the man was a bad hat." 
 
 "But didn't all that make you suspect him?" 
 
 "Of what? Of leaving his respectable villa at 
 the dead of night, tramping several miles at his 
 age in the dark, and deliberately murdering his 
 own best client and old friend under circum- 
 stances so risky to himself that only a combina-
 
 THE LAST CHAPTER 315 
 
 tion of lucky chances saw him safely through the 
 adventure? Nothing absolutely nothing but 
 homicidal mania could possibly account for such 
 a performance, and the man was obviously as 
 sane as you or I. I felt certain that there was 
 something wrong somewhere, but as for suspect- 
 ing him of being the principal in the crime, the 
 idea was stark lunacy!" 
 
 "By George, it was a tough proposition!" said 
 Ned. "By the way, had you heard of George 
 Rattar at that time?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I heard of him, and knew they re- 
 sembled one another, but as I was told that he 
 had left the place for years and was now dead, 
 my thoughts never even once ran in that direc- 
 tion until I got into a state of desperation, and 
 then I merely surmised that his misdeeds might 
 have been at the bottom of some difficulty be- 
 tween Simon and Sir Reginald." 
 
 "Then how on earth did you ever get on to the 
 right track?" 
 
 "I never would have if the man hadn't given 
 himself away. To begin with, he was fool enough 
 to fall in with my perfectly genuine assumption 
 that he was either employing me or acting for my 
 employer. No doubt he stood to score if the 
 bluff had come off, and he banked on your stipu- 
 lation that your name shouldn't appear. But if 
 he had only been honest in that matter, my sus- 
 picions would never have started not at that 
 point anyhow."
 
 316 SIMON 
 
 "That was Providence sure!" said Ned with 
 conviction. 
 
 "I'm inclined to think it was," agreed Carring- 
 ton. "Then again his advice to Sir Malcolm and 
 Miss Farmond was well enough designed to 
 further his own scheme of throwing suspicion on 
 them, but it simply ended in his being bowled 
 out both times, and throwing suspicion on him- 
 self. But the precaution which actually gave him 
 away was putting in that advertisement about 
 his ring." 
 
 "I was just wondering," said Ned, "how that 
 did the trick." 
 
 "By the merest fluke. I noticed it when I was 
 making enquiries at the Police Office on quite 
 different lines, but you can imagine that I 
 switched off my other enquiries pretty quick 
 when Superintendent Sutherland calmly ad- 
 vanced the theory that the ring was stolen when 
 Rattar's house was entered by some one unknown 
 on the very night of the murder!" 
 
 "This is the first I've heard of that!" cried 
 Ned. 
 
 "It was the first I had, but it led me straight 
 to Rattar's house and a long heart to heart talk 
 with his housemaid. That was when I collected 
 that extraordinary mixed bag of information 
 which I was wondering yesterday whether to 
 believe or not. Here are the items, and you can 
 judge for yourself what my state of mind was 
 when I was carrying about the following pre- 
 cious pieces of information."
 
 THE LAST CHAPTER 317 
 
 He ticked the items off on his fingers. 
 
 "A mysterious man who entered the garden 
 one night and left his footprints in the gravel, 
 and whose visit had a strange and mysterious 
 effect on Rattar. Funny feelings produced in 
 the bosom of the housemaid by the presence of 
 her master. Doors of unused rooms mysteriously 
 locked and keys taken away ; said to be old papers 
 inside. Mysterious visit of mysterious man at 
 dead of night to remove the said papers. A ring 
 that couldn't come off the owner's finger mys- 
 teriously lost. Mysterious burglary on night of 
 the murder by mysterious burglar who left all 
 windows and doors locked behind him and took 
 nothing away. Mysterious perambulations of 
 his garden every night at nine o'clock by Mr. 
 Simon Rattar." 
 
 "Great Scot!" murmured Cromarty. 
 
 "I have given you the items in what turned 
 out to be their order of date, but I got them 
 higgledy-piggledy and served up in a sauce of 
 mystery and trembly sensations that left me ut- 
 terly flummoxed as to how much if anything 
 was sober fact. However, I began by fastening 
 on to two things. The first was the burglary, 
 which of course at once suggested the possibility 
 that the man who had committed the crime at 
 Keldale had returned to Rattar's house and got 
 in by that window. The second was the nightly 
 perambulations, which could easily be tested. 
 When Mr. Rattar emerged at nine that night, I
 
 318 SIMON 
 
 was in the garden before him. And what do you 
 think he did?" 
 
 "Had a look at his brother's grave?" 
 
 "Smoked two pipes of tobacco! A man who 
 was an anti-tobacco fanatic! The truth hit me 
 straight in the eye 'That man is not Simon 
 Rattar !' And then of course everything dropped 
 into its place. The ex-convict twin brother, the 
 only evidence of whose supposititious death was 
 an announcement in the paper, obviously put in 
 as a blind. The personal resemblance between 
 the two. All the yarns told me by the house- 
 maid, including the strange visitor George of 
 course arriving; the man who came for the pa- 
 pers George himself taking out the body; and 
 the vanished ring. Everything fitted in now, and 
 the correspondence between Sir Reginald and 
 Rattar which had beaten me before, gave the 
 clue at once as to motive." 
 
 "I guess you felt you had deserved a drink that 
 trip !" said Ned. 
 
 "I didn't stop to have my drink. I went 
 straight off to see old Ison and pumped him for 
 the rest of the evening. He wasn't very helpful 
 but everything I could get out of him went to 
 confirm my theory. I found for certain that 
 Simon Rattar had never smoked in his life, and 
 that George used to be a heavy smoker. I also 
 learned that a few recent peculiarities of con- 
 duct had struck the not too observant Ison, one 
 being very suggestive. Rattar, it seemed, kept 
 an old pair of kid gloves in his desk which he
 
 THE LAST CHAPTER 319 
 
 was in the habit of wearing when he was alone 
 in the office." 
 
 "Don't quite see the bearing of that." 
 
 "Well, on my hypothesis it was to avoid leaving 
 finger marks. You see George was an ex-convict. 
 It was a very judicious precaution too, and made 
 it extremely difficult to catch him out by that 
 means, for one could scarcely approach a re- 
 spectable solicitor and ask him for an impression 
 of his fingers! And anyhow, nothing could be 
 definitely proved against him until we had found 
 Simon's body. That was the next problem. 
 Where had he hidden it?" 
 
 "And how did you get at that?" 
 
 "Guessed it. At first my thoughts went too 
 far afield, but when I went over the times men- 
 tioned in the maid's story of the man who took 
 away the papers, and the fact that she heard no 
 sound of a wheeled vehicle, I realised that he 
 must have simply planted it in one of the flower 
 beds. This morning I prodded them all with a 
 stout walking stick and found the spot. Then 
 I talked like a father to old Sutherland and fixed 
 everything up with him. And then I sent my 
 wire to you." 
 
 "And you deliberately tell me you got there 
 as much by good luck as good guidance?" 
 
 Carrington's eyes thoughtfully followed his 
 smoke rings. 
 
 "I can see the luck at every turn," he answered, 
 "and though I'd like to believe in the guidance, 
 I'm hanged if it's quite as distinct!"
 
 320 SIMON 
 
 "If you are telling me the neat, unvarnished 
 truth, Carrington," said his admiring employer, 
 "I can only say that you've a lot to learn about 
 your own abilities and I hope to Heaven you'll 
 never learn it!" 
 
 "But I assure you there are some people who 
 think me conceited!" 
 
 "There are guys of all sorts in the world," said 
 Ned. "For instance there's a girl who has mis- 
 taken me for a daisy, and I've got to get back 
 to her now. Good night ! I won't say 'Thanks' 
 because I can't shout it loud enough." 
 
 When his gig lamps had flashed up the silent 
 street and Carrington had turned back from the 
 pavement into the hotel, he met his friend Miss 
 Peterkin. 
 
 "Mr. Cromarty's late to-night," said she. "A 
 fine gentleman that! I always say there are few 
 like Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland." 
 
 "That's lucky for me," said Carrington with a 
 smile that puzzled her a little. "My business in 
 life would be gone if there were!" 
 
 THE END
 
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