ints that told against the Craig-Ellachie people. Moreover,
the Honourable David was a splendid swimmer. He went out in a boat
with us, and dived like a seal. He was burning to teach Charles
and myself to swim, when we told him we could neither of us take a
single stroke; he said it was an accomplishment incumbent upon every
true Englishman. But Charles hates the water; while, as for myself,
I detest every known form of muscular exercise.

However, we consented that he should row us on the Firth, and made
an appointment one day with himself and his wife for four the next
evening.

That night Charles came to me with a very grave face in my own
bedroom. "Sey," he said, under his breath, "have you observed?
Have you watched? Have you any suspicions?"

I trembled violently. I felt all was up. "Suspicions of whom?"
I asked. "Not surely of Simpson?" (he was Sir Charles's valet).

My respected brother-in-law looked at me contemptuously.

"Sey," he said, "are you trying to take me in? No, _not_ of Simpson:
of these two young folks. My own belief is--they're Colonel Clay
and Madame Picardet."

"Impossible!" I cried.

He nodded. "I'm sure of it."

"How do you know?"

"Instinctively."

I seized his arm. "Charles," I said, imploring him, "do nothing
rash. Remember how you exposed yourself to the ridicule of fools
over Dr. Polperro!"

"I've thought of that," he answered, "and I mean to ca' caller."
(When in Scotland as laird of Seldon, Charles loves both to dress
and to speak the part thoroughly.) "First thing to-morrow I shall
telegraph over to inquire at Glen-Ellachie; I shall find out
whether this is really young Granton or not; meanwhile, I shall keep
my eye close upon the fellow."

Early next morning, accordingly, a groom was dispatched with a
telegram to Lord Craig-Ellachie. He was to ride over to Fowlis, send
it off at once, and wait for the answer. At the same time, as it was
probable Lord Craig-Ellachie would have started for the moors before
the telegram reached the Lodge, I did not myself expect to see the
reply arrive much before seven or eight that evening. Meanwhile, as
it was far from certain we had not the real David Granton to deal
with, it was necessary to be polite to our friendly rivals. Our
experience in the Polperro incident had shown us both that too much
zeal may be more dangerous than too little. Nevertheless, taught
by previous misfortunes, we kept watching our man pretty close,
determined