ob the wealthy, and assist those wrongly
accused. It must be he--or one of his assistants. Otherwise he would not
know of the secret hiding-place for those after whom a hue-and-cry has
been raised."

He recollected at that moment the girl who had been his fellow-guest in
Genoa--the dainty mademoiselle who evidently had some secret knowledge
of his father's death, and yet refused to divulge a single word.

Ever since that memorable night at the Villa Amette, he had existed in
a mist of suspicion and uncertainty. Yet, after all, he cared little
for anything so long as Dorise still believed in his innocence, and she
still loved him. His one great object was to clear up the mystery of
his father's tragic end, and thus defeat the clever plot of those whose
intention it, apparently, was to marry him to Louise Lambert.

On every hand there was mystification. The one woman--notorious as she
was--who knew the truth had been rendered mentally incompetent by an
assassin's bullet, while he, himself, was accused of the crime.

Hugh Henfrey would have long ago confessed to Dorise the whole facts
concerning his father's death, but his delicacy prevented him. He
honoured his dead father, and was averse to telling the girl he loved
that he had been found in a curious state in a West End street late at
night. He was loyal to his poor father's memory, and, until he knew the
actual truth, he did not intend that Dorise should be in a position to
misconstrue the facts, or to misjudge.

On the face of it, his father's death was exceedingly suspicious. He had
left his home in the country and gone to town upon pretence. Why? That
a woman was connected with his journey was now apparent. Hugh had
ascertained certain facts which he had resolved to withhold from
everybody.

But why should the notorious Sparrow, the King of the Underworld,
interest himself so actively on his behalf as to travel up there to
Perthshire, after making those secret, but elaborate, arrangements for
safety? The whole affair was a mystery, complete and insoluble.

It was early morning, after they had rambled for several hours in the
moonlight, when Hugh bade his well-beloved farewell.

They had returned through the park and were at a gate quite close to the
castle when they halted. It had crossed Hugh's mind that they might be
seen by one of the keepers, and he had mentioned this to Dorise.

"What matter?" she replied. "They do not know you, and probably will not