t you?"

"Yes. What of him?"

"His engagement is off."

"Off!" I cried. "Why, I only learned the other day that it was on."

"Oh, yes--it's all off. His brother told me so. Deucedly mean of Reeves,
you know, if he has backed out of it, for she was an uncommonly nice
girl."

"I've seen her," I said; "but I don't know her name."

"She is a Miss Northcott, and lives with an old aunt of hers in
Abercrombie Place. Nobody knows anything about her people, or where she
comes from. Anyhow, she is about the most unlucky girl in the world,
poor soul!"

"Why unlucky?"

"Well, you know, this was her second engagement," said young Brodie, who
had a marvellous knack of knowing everything about everybody. "She was
engaged to Prescott--William Prescott, who died. That was a very
sad affair. The wedding day was fixed, and the whole thing looked as
straight as a die when the smash came."

"What smash?" I asked, with some dim recollection of the circumstances.

"Why, Prescott's death. He came to Abercrombie Place one night, and
stayed very late. No one knows exactly when he left, but about one
in the morning a fellow who knew him met him walking rapidly in the
direction of the Queen's Park. He bade him good night, but Prescott
hurried on without heeding him, and that was the last time he was ever
seen alive. Three days afterwards his body was found floating in
St. Margaret's Loch, under St. Anthony's Chapel. No one could ever
understand it, but of course the verdict brought it in as temporary
insanity."

"It was very strange," I remarked.

"Yes, and deucedly rough on the poor girl," said Brodie. "Now that this
other blow has come it will quite crush her. So gentle and ladylike she
is too!"

"You know her personally, then!" I asked.

"Oh, yes, I know her. I have met her several times. I could easily
manage that you should be introduced to her."

"Well," I answered, "it's not so much for my own sake as for a friend of
mine. However, I don't suppose she will go out much for some little time
after this. When she does I will take advantage of your offer."

We shook hands on this, and I thought no more of the matter for some
time.

The next incident which I have to relate as bearing at all upon the
question of Miss Northcott is an unpleasant one. Yet I must detail it as
accurately as possible, since it may throw some light upon the sequel.
One cold night, several months after the conversation with my second
cousin which I