she is 'daft,' as you call it,
landlord. It would be well if a jury could be persuaded to think so, as,
in that case, it would save her from the penalty of perjury. But we will
speak no more of the poor girl. Take away the service, if you please,"
said the duke, quietly.

The landlord, balked of his desire to gossip, bowed, and cleared the
table.

It was not yet nine o'clock. There were more than three hours to be
passed before the express-train for London would reach Lone.

The duke, refreshed by his supper, felt no sense of weariness, no
disposition to lie down and sleep away the three remaining hours of his
stay. His mind was in too excited a condition to think of sleep. Neither
could he read.

So, soon after he was left alone by the landlord, he arose and sauntered
out through the private entrance into the night air.

The streets of the village were very quiet, for the reason that on this
night the men were all collected at the Arondelle Arms, discussing the
events of the day; and at this hour the women were all sure to be in
their houses, putting their children to bed, setting bread to rise, or
"garring th' auld claithes luke amaist as guid as the new."

The hamlet was very still under the starlit sky.

The Arondelle Arms, lighted up and musical, was the only noisy spot about
it.

The mountains stood, grand and silent, like gigantic sentinels around it.

The lake, the island, and the castle of Lone lay beneath it.

A sudden impulse seized the duke to cross the bridge, and re-visit once
more the home of his youth, the scene of his family's disaster, the stage
of that frightful tragedy which had shocked the civilized world.

He went down to the beach, and stepped upon the bridge. Now, no floral
wedding decorations wreathed the arches. All was bare and bleak beneath
the last October sky.

He crossed the bridge and entered on the grounds of the castle. All here
was sear under the late autumnal frosts. He did not approach the castle
walls. He would not disturb the servants at this hour. He walked about
the grounds until he heard the clock in Malcolm's Old Tower strike ten.
Then he turned his steps toward the hamlet.

Just before he reached the bridge, he overtook the tall, dark figure of a
man, clothed in a long, close overcoat, in shape not unlike a priest's
walking habit. The man tottered and stumbled as he walked, so that the
duke was soon abreast to him. And then he discovered the wanderer to be
John