“Seventy years! why, the man must be dead,” said Charteris. “Very possibly. It does not concern me that,” said Lindsay. “Well, Charteris, this sentimental John got some sort of situation in Stirling, and was by no means annihilated by the family ban. He throve and multiplied for a few years--then his wife died suddenly, leaving him with two daughters, and then he disappeared. Where he went to, there is not the least clue. The man was half mad with grief, I suppose. It was said he was going to England--and it was said he was going to America. It seems quite impossible to discover--every trace of him is gone. And now all the seven sons are exhausted; after all, it must be best to be stagnant, Charteris--for see you, whenever this romance stepped in among the decent people, what a blight it brought upon them. Four of them died unmarried--other two had children who have grown old and died during the lingering lifetime of the last proprietor. He was a childless widower--and now the old man has gone too; and where am I to get those heirs?” “Did he know nothing of them,” said Cuthbert. “Nothing; he died very old--upwards of ninety--and his senses failed him; but his memory seems to have turned with a strange kind of affection to this poor sentimental lost John. There are some far away cousins who would claim as heirs, but the old laird left a will, ordaining that search should be first made for the children of John Allenders--children! they will not be quite youthful now.” “And there is no trace?” said Cuthbert. “None, but a rather fantastic one,” said Lindsay, smiling. “The favourite female name of the Allenders’ family was Violet--old Allenders thought it certain that one of those children would be called Violet--and their mother’s name was Rose. What’s the matter, Cuthbert?” “Strange!” said Cuthbert, looking up, with a start. “Why, I met a family in Glasgow, last month, in which there were both these names.” “Ay--where? what’s their name? who are they?” said Lindsay eagerly. “Their name is Muir--they are rather a noticeable family in many respects,” said Cuthbert, with a little hesitation; “but so far as pecuniary matters go, very humble people. Could it be? Rose and Violet--there can be no mistake about the names. I’ll tell you what, Lindsay, I’ll go through, myself, to the west, and find it out.” “Many thanks. I had no idea you took so much interest in these professional investigations,” said Lindsay, with some curiosity, “I think it is more in _my_ department than yours, Cuthbert.” “You don’t know them, Davie--you’re an alien and a foreigner, and an east countryman--whereas my mother is a Buchanan! I am free of the city, Lion, and then, I know the Muirs.”