“Yes; he is now at the inn yonder, at Killalochie, where I must rejoin him; so I must ask you not to take me too far off the right road.” “But is it imperative that you rejoin him to-day? Do you think I am not eager to question you about the work you have done for me in Paris? Can you not dine with us? Mr. Jerningham will, I know, be charmed to have you.” That gentleman bowed an icy assent. “Can’t you spare us this evening?” To refuse this invitation Eustace Thorburn must have been something more than mortal. Happily for his honour he had told his uncle that it was just possible he might find his explorations at Halko’s Head too much for one day’s work, and might sleep at that village. He was thus free. “We dine and sleep at a village ten miles from here,” said M. de Bergerac. “The people of the inn can give you a bed, no doubt; and you can get back to Killalochie to-morrow.” Eustace accepted the invitation, and was then favoured with some account of his employer’s wanderings. “We have rested nowhere, but have seen everything worth seeing between the Tweed and these mountains,” said M. de Bergerac. “I begin to think that Jerningham is the original Wandering Jew. He knows everything, every trace of Pictish camp, and every relic of the early convents, from St. Columba to St. Margaret. There is a cave on this coast which we are to see before we leave the neighbourhood; a cave cut in the face of the cliff, with outer and inner chamber, in which one of the Scottish saints spent the evening of his pious days, among the sea-gulls.” “Yes; I heard of that cave at Halko’s Head,” said Eustace. “You have been to Halko’s Head?” asked Mr. Jerningham. “I was returning from that place when your carriage picked me up.” “Why do we not go to Halko’s Head, if it is worth seeing?” asked M. de Bergerac. “It is not worth seeing. A mere handful of fishermen’s cottages, on a craggy headland;” replied Mr. Jerningham. “And yet Mr. Thorburn goes there?” “I cannot help Mr. Thorburn’s bad taste; but we can drive to Halko’s Head to-morrow, if you please. I told you, when we came into this part of the country, that there was little calculated to interest any one but a sportsman.” “But I was determined to see Aberdeenshire,” replied M. de Bergerac, with playful insistence. “Why not Aberdeenshire? Why should we explore all other shires of Scotland, and neglect Aberdeenshire? I had read of the Cairn-gorm mountains, and wanted to behold them.” “You know Halko’s Head, Mr. Jerningham?” said Eustace, thoughtfully. “I know every inch of Scotland.” “Did you know Halko’s Head four-and-twenty years ago?” For some reason the question startled Harold Jerningham more than he was wont to be moved for any insignificant cause. “No,” he answered, shortly. “But what motive had you for such a question?” “I want to find some one who knew that place four-and-twenty years ago.” “Why?” “Because a person very dear to me was living there at that time.”