For, whether the clue was lost to the whereabouts of Elphinston and the Sholtos, or whether the Government was growing sick of the wholesale butchery of Jacobites which was going on in Scotland and England--though it would scarce seem so, since two of the lords in the Tower and some score of other victims were yet to be executed and their remains to be brutally used--at least those three friends were still at large. Archibald Sholto was in hiding at James McGlowrie's lodgings in the Minories, in the neighbourhood of which that honest gentleman was much engaged in the grain and cattle trade between London and Scotland and also Holland and France. Farther east still was Bertie Elphinston, he being close to the spot where the unhappy Lady Balmerino, his kinswoman, was lodged; while in the West End, or rather the west of London, at the Kensington Gravel Pits, and under the roof of no less a person than Sir Charles Ames, Douglas had found a home and hiding place. As for Kate and her father, they were in Hanover-square, the guests of Lady Belrose, and were to remain as such until the former had had an interview with Fordingbridge. "For," said Kate to her friend who, although a comparatively new one, was proving herself to be very staunch, "then I shall know, then I shall be able to decide; though even now my decision is taken, my mind made up. Who can doubt that it is he who has done this? He and no other. No other!" "Indeed, dear," replied her hostess, as she bade her black boy--a present from her devoted admirer, Sir Charles--go get the urn filled, for they were drinking tea after dinner, "indeed, dear, no one, I think, from all that you have told me. Yet if you leave him, what is to become of you and Mr. Fane? You have, you say--pardon me for even referring to such a thing--no very good means of subsistence. I," went on her ladyship, speaking emphatically, "should at least take my settlement. I would not, positively I would not, allow the wretch to benefit by keeping that. No, indeed!" "If," replied Kate, "'tis as I fear--nay, as I know it is, I will not touch one farthing of his. Not one farthing. I will go forth, and he Shall be as though I had never seen or spoken to him." "But," asked the more practical woman of the world, "what will you do, dear? You cannot live on air, and--which is almost worse--you cannot marry someone who will give you a good home. And you so pretty, too!" she added. "Marry again!" exclaimed Kate, her eyes glistening as she spoke. "Heaven forbid! Have I not had enough of marriage? One experience should suffice, I think." "It has indeed been a sad one," answered Lady Belrose, who had herself no intention of continuing her widowhood much longer, and was indeed at that moment privately affianced to Sir Charles Ames. "But, Kate, if your monster were dead you might be happy yet."