ting her to a chair and seating myself. "I've heard some
extraordinary story about a man being found dead, but I've been in
Dumfries nearly all day. Who is the man?"

"Ah! that we don't know," she replied, pale-faced and anxious. Her
attitude was as though she wished to confide in me and yet still
hesitated to do so.

"You've been waiting for me quite a long time, Davis tells me. I regret
that you should have done this. If you had left word that you wished to
see me, I would have come over to you at once."

"No. I wanted to see you alone--that's the reason I am here. They must
not know at home that I've been over here, so I purposely asked the man
not to announce me to your aunt."

"You want to see me privately," I said in a low, earnest voice. "Why? Is
there any service I can render you?"

"Yes. A very great one," she responded with quick eagerness,
"I--well--the fact is, I have summoned courage to come to you and beg
of you to help me. I am in great distress--and I have not a single
friend whom I can trust--in whom I can confide."

"I shall esteem it the highest honor if you will trust me," I said in
deep earnestness. "I can only assure you that I will remain loyal to
your interests and to yourself."

"Ah! I believe you will, Mr. Gregg!" she declared with enthusiasm, her
large, dark eyes turned upon me--the eyes of a woman in sheer and bitter
despair. Her face was perfect, one of the most handsome I had ever gazed
upon. The more I saw of her the greater was the fascination she held
over me.

A silence fell between us as she sat with her gloved hands lying idly in
her lap. Her lips moved nervously, but no sound came from them, so
agitated was she, so eager to tell me something; and yet at the same
time reluctant to take me into her confidence.

"Well?" I asked at last in a low voice. "I am quite ready to render you
any service, if you will only command me."

"Ah! But I fear what I require will strike you as so unusual--you will
hesitate to act when I explain what service I require of you," she said
doubtfully.

"I cannot tell you until I hear your wishes," I said, smiling, and yet
puzzled at her attitude.

"It concerns the terrible discovery made up in Rannoch Wood," she said
in a hoarse, nervous voice at last. "That unknown man was
murdered--stabbed to the heart."

"Well?"

"Well," she said, scarcely above a whisper, "I have suspicions."

"Of the murdered man's identity?"

"No. Of the assassin."