mer, answers to the name of Sandy,
I believe."

"Old Sandy Donaldson!" she exclaimed. "That drunken old thing! He was
simply talking nonsense as usual!"

"He seemed a little in liquor," he admitted, "but you see I am a mere
stranger. I didn't realise what a loose authority I quoted. There is
nothing in the report, I am certain. And this path leads only to Keldale
House? Thank you very much. Good morning!"

How Mr. Carrington had obtained this erroneous information from a person
whose back he had merely seen for a couple of minutes the night before,
as the reprobate in question was being ejected from the Kings Arms, he
did not stop to explain. In fact, at this point he showed no inclination
to continue the conversation, but bowing very politely, continued his
stroll.

But the effect of the conversation on him remained, and a very marked
effect it appeared to be. He took no interest in the burn any longer,
but paced slowly on, his eyes sometimes on the path and sometimes
staring upwards at the Heavens. So far as his face revealed his
sensations, they seemed to be compounded of surprise and perplexity.
Several times he shook his head as though some very baffling point had
cropped up in his thoughts, and once he murmured:

"I'm damned!"

When the path reached the policies of the house, he stopped and seemed
to take some interest in his surroundings once more. For a moment it was
clear that he was tempted to enter the plantations, and then he shook
his head and turned back.

All the way home he remained immersed in thought and only recovered his
nonchalant air as he entered the door of the Kings Arms. He was the same
easy-going, smiling young man of fashion as he passed the time of day
with Miss Peterkin; but when he had shut the door of his private sitting
room and dropped into an easy chair over the fire, he again became so
absorbed in thought that he had to be reminded that the hour of luncheon
had passed.

Thought seemed to vanish during lunch, but when he had retired to his
room again, it returned for another half hour. At the end of that time
he apparently came to a decision, and jumping up briskly, repaired to
the manageress' room. And when Miss Peterkin was taken into his
confidence, it appeared that the whole problem had merely concerned the
question of taking either a shooting or a fishing for next season.

"I have been thinking," said he, "that my best plan will perhaps be to
call upon Mr. Simon Rattar