rror'll come
to ye by-and-by."

Count Victor waved a deprecating hand.

"Oh, I ken a' aboot what mak's ye sae suspicious," went on Mungo,
undisturbed, "and it's a thing I could mak' clear to ye in a
quarter-hour's crack if I had his leave. Tak' my word for't, there's no'
a better man wi' his feet in brogues this day than the Baron o' Doom.
He should be searchin' the warld wi' the sword o' his faithers (and the
same he can use), but the damned thing is the warld for him doesna gang
by the snout o' Cowal and the pass o' Glencroe. He had a wife ance;
she's dead and buried in Kilmorich; noo he's doited on his hame and his
dochter--"

"The charming Olivia!" cried Count Victor, thinking in one detail at all
events to surprise this little custodian of all the secrets.

"Ye met her last night," said Mungo, calmly, seeming to enjoy the
rapidity with which his proofs of omniscience could be put forth.
"That's half the secret. Ye were daunderin' aboot the lobby wi' thae
fine French manners I hae heard o'--frae the French theirsels--and wha'
wad blame ye in a hoose like this? And ye're early up the day, but the
lass was up earlier to tell me o' your meeting. She had to come to me
before Annapla was aboot, for Annapla's no' in this part o' the ploy at
all."

"I protest I have no head for charades," said Count Victor, with a
gesture of bewilderment. "I do not know what you mean."

Mungo chuckled with huge satisfaction.

"Man, it's as plain's parridge! There's a gentleman in the toon down by
that's a hot wooer, and daddy's for nane o' his kind roon' Doom; d'ye
tak' me?"

"But still--but still--"

"But still the trystin' gaes on, ye were aboot to say. That's very true,
Coont, but it's only the like o' you and me that has nae dochters to
plague oorsel's wi' that can guess the like o' that. Ay, it gaes on as
ye say, and that's where me and Miss Olivia maun put oor trust in you.
In this affair I'll admit I'm a traitor in the camp--at least, to the
camp commander, but I think it's in a guid cause. The lassie's fair aff
her heid, and nae wonder, for he's a fine mak' o' a man."

"And a good one, I hope?" interjected Count Victor.

"Humph!" said Mungo. "I thocht that wasna laid muckle stress on in
France. He's a takin' deevil, and the kind's but middlin' morally,
sae far as I had ony experience o' them. Guid or bad, Miss Olivia, nae
further gane nor last Friday, refused to promise she wad gie up meetin'
him--though she's the ge