conclusion of that sentence.

"Ah, I know!" exclaimed the mysterious visitor in a tone of sympathy.
"You are uncertain in your conclusions because of your terrible
affliction. Sometimes, alas! my dear friend, you are imposed upon,
because you are blind."

"Yes," responded the other, bitterly. "That is the truth, Goslin.
Because I cannot see like other men, I have been deceived--foully and
grossly deceived and betrayed! But--but," he cried, "they thought to
ruin me, and I've tricked them, Goslin--yes, tricked them! Have no fear.
For the present our secrets are our own!"

CHAPTER XVIII

REVEALS THE SPY

The Twelfth--the glorious Twelfth--had come and gone. "The rush to the
North" had commenced from London. From Euston, St. Pancras, and King's
Cross the night trains for Scotland had run in triplicate, crowded by
men and gun-cases and kit-bags, while gloomy old Perth station was a
scene of unwonted activity each morning.

At Glencardine there were little or no grouse; therefore it was not
until later that Sir Henry invited his usual party.

Gabrielle had been south to visit one of her girlfriends near Durham,
and the week of her absence her afflicted father had spent in dark
loneliness, for Flockart had gone to London, and her ladyship was away
on a fortnight's visit to the Pelhams, down at New Galloway.

On the last day of August, however, Gabrielle returned, being followed a
few hours later by Lady Heyburn, who had travelled up by way of Stirling
and Crieff Junction, while that same night eight men forming the
shooting-party arrived by the day express from the south.

The gathering was a merry one. The guests were the same who came up
there every year, some of them friends of Sir Henry in the days of his
brilliant career, others friends of his wife. The shooting at
Glencardine was always excellent; and Stewart, wise and serious, had
prophesied first-class sport.

Walter Murie was in London. While Gabrielle had been at Durham he had
travelled up there, spent the night at the "Three Tuns," and met her
next morning in that pretty wooded walk they call "the Banks." Devoted
to her as he was, he could not bear any long separation; while she, on
her part, was gratified by this attention. Not without some difficulty
did she succeed in getting away from her friends to meet him, for a
provincial town is not like London, and any stranger is always in the
public eye. But they spent a delightful couple of hours togeth