nd of a man was he--I mean the one who came asking questions?"

"Oh, a middle-aged man, perhaps forty or fifty. He had iron-grey
whiskers, and he was bald, I remember."

"And he was the only one who ever came making inquiries?" asked Paul.

"Yes, the only one."

Paul's hopes were dashed to the ground again. Still, the man must have
had some reason for coming North; no one would come all the way from
England to make inquiries unless something of importance lay at the back
of it.

"What kind of questions did he ask?" continued the young man.

"It is a good many years since," replied the woman, "and I am afraid I
did not encourage him much. But as far as I can call to mind now, he
asked how long since she had left, and whether anything had happened to
her."

"And did you tell him"--and Paul's voice was almost hoarse as he
spoke--"did you tell him of--of what you call her disgrace?"

"No," replied the woman harshly. "I am not one of that kind. Donald
Lindsay's name is a good one, and I'm proud of it myself. Besides, I
thought she was dead, and so--well, I said nothing."

"And that is all you can tell me?"

"That is all."

From the little farmstead Paul went to "Highlands," but his visit seemed
in vain. The people who occupied the house had lived there for some
twelve years, and they had bought it from an agent as a summer residence.
They had heard that the previous owner lived in Edinburgh, but they were
not sure. They only knew he was in the habit of letting the house during
the summer months.

"Did you know the Grahams?" Paul asked.

"No. I've heard they lived in England, in London, in fact, but we knew
nothing about them. I have been told that they were a large family, and
came here during the three summer months, but that's twenty years ago
now, and so nothing is known."

"And they have not been here during your time?" asked Paul.

"No," was the reply.

And this was all he learnt. He asked many questions, but the answers
were all vague and tentative.

From "Highlands" he went to Willie Fearn's farm. He thought perhaps his
mother's one-time admirer might be able to give him some information, but
Willie Fearn was a dour Scotsman, who said he knew nothing. When Paul
approached the subject of Willie's former relation to Jean Lindsay and
his hopes of making her his wife, the Scotsman set his lips firmly
together and refused to speak. He admitted presently how he had heard
"that the lass ha