Gabrielle,
the Frenchman was most courteous, but refused the pressing invitations
to remain the night. He always arrived by the morning train from Perth,
and left for the south the same night, the express being stopped for him
by signal at Auchterarder station. The mysterious visitor puzzled
Gabrielle considerably. Her father entrusted him with secrets which he
withheld from her, and this often caused her both surprise and
annoyance. Like every other girl, she was of course full of curiosity.

Towards her Flockart became daily more friendly. On two occasions, after
breakfast, he had invited her to spend an hour or two fishing for trout
in the burn, which was unexpectedly in spate, and they had thus been
some time in each other's company.

She, however, regarded him with distinct distrust. He was undeniably
good-looking, nonchalant, and a thorough-going man of the world. But his
intimate friendship with Lady Heyburn prevented her from regarding him
as a true friend. Towards her he was ever most courteous, and paid her
many little compliments. He tied her flies, he fitted her rod, and if
her line became entangled in the trees he always put matters right. Not,
however, that she could not do it all herself. In her strong, high
fishing-boots, her short skirts hemmed with leather, her burberry, and
her dark-blue tam-o'-shanter set jauntily on her chestnut hair, she very
often fished alone, and made quite respectable baskets. To wade into the
burn and disentangle her line from beneath a stone was to her quite a
small occurrence, for she would never let either Stewart or any of the
under-keepers accompany her.

Why Flockart had so suddenly sought her society she failed to discern.
Hitherto, though always extremely polite, he had treated her as a child,
which she naturally resented. At length, however, he seemed to have
realised that she now possessed the average intelligence of a young
woman.

He had never repeated those strange words he had uttered when, on the
night of the ball at Connachan, he returned in secret to the castle and
beckoned her out upon the lawn. He had, indeed, never referred to his
curious action. Sometimes she wondered, so changed was his manner,
whether he had actually forgotten the incident altogether. He had showed
himself in his true colours that night. Whatever suspicions she had
previously held were corroborated in that stroll across the lawn in the
dark shadow. His tactics had altered, it seemed