shall be glad if you will order my horse to be brought round to
the door," said the man; and he rose from the table to put an end to the
interview.

The landlady, however, was not so easily dismissed. She stood at the
door and remarked:--

"Well, that's curious--that's most curious. For only a fortnight ago a
gentleman burnt just as black as yourself stayed a night here on the
same errand. He asked for Miss Eustace's address and drove up to
Glenalla. Perhaps you have business with her?"

"Yes, I have business with Miss Eustace," the stranger returned. "Will
you be good enough to give orders about my horse?"

While he was waiting for his horse he looked through the leaves of the
hotel book, and saw under a date towards the end of July the name of
Colonel Trench.

"You will come back, sir, to-night?" said the landlady, as he mounted.

"No," he answered, "I do not think I shall come again to Ramelton." And
he rode down the hill, and once more that day crossed the Lennon bridge.
Four miles on he came to the track opposite a little bay of the Lough,
and, turning into it, he rode past a few white cottages up to the purple
hollow of the hills. It was about five o'clock when he came to the long,
straggling village. It seemed very quiet and deserted, and built without
any plan. A few cottages stood together, then came a gap of fields,
beyond that a small plantation of larches and a house which stood by
itself. Beyond the house was another gap, through which he could see
straight down to the water of the Lough, shining in the afternoon sun,
and the white gulls poising and swooping above it. And after passing
that gap he came to a small grey church, standing bare to the winds upon
its tiny plateau. A pathway of white shell-dust led from the door of the
church to the little wooden gate. As he came level with the gate a
collie dog barked at him from behind it.

The rider looked at the dog, which was very grey about the muzzle. He
noticed its marking, and stopped his horse altogether. He glanced
towards the church, and saw that the door stood open. At once he
dismounted; he fastened his horse to the fence, and entered the
churchyard. The collie thrust its muzzle into the back of his knee,
sniffed once or twice doubtfully, and suddenly broke into an exuberant
welcome. The collie dog had a better memory than the landlady of the
inn. He barked, wagged his tail, crouched and sprang at the stranger's
shoulders, whirled round and