darting past the windows. Suddenly her muscles tightened like a hound’s on the scent. The golden-haired girl suddenly glided out on the balcony, a glorious vision of loveliness. Pensively she leaned over the railing watching the swans, which looked ghostly in the moonlight, swimming majestically round and round the small pond of water into which the spraying fountain was playing. CHAPTER XVII Mary soon grew weary of looking at the many paintings which lined the walls of the galleries; she wished they would go back to the pretty rooms downstairs, where the music was playing and the young folks were dancing. She had enjoyed that. She tried to force a smile of interest to her lips as the old Duke described the subjects on the canvases before them. He soon perceived her weariness, however, and calling to Mrs. Dunlop, who was being bored beyond measure, as she told her friends wearily, he requested her to show Miss Campbell the gardens by moonlight, to which she gladly assented. Quickly they descended the broad staircase, and slowly wended their way across the large drawing-room. Mrs. Dunlop took her young charge to the large window and waved her fat hand toward the magnificent view which lay stretched before them. “Isn’t it grand, Mary?” she observed lightly. It was an old story to her. Spying an old friend across the room, she excused herself to Mary and told her to enjoy herself, then smilingly left her to her own devices. After admiring the somber beauty of Edinburgh Castle, Mary perceived the flowing fountain which splashed tunefully below her in the garden. She stepped out on the balcony, a smile of pleasure lighting up her sweet face. For a while she stood listening to the rhythmic fall of the water, blissfully unconscious of the presence of the unseen watcher. Suddenly before her startled vision there sprang the form of the gypsy. With a cry of alarm Mary stepped back and was about to enter the room, when a voice calling her by name arrested her wondering attention. “Wait, Mary Campbell!” hissed the voice of the gypsy. Mary turned and looked into the white face gazing up at her so defiantly, and she recognized the girl to whom she had tossed the money. Suddenly she gave a gasp of astonishment. “Jean Armour!” she exclaimed incredulously. “Aye, Jean Armour,” repeated the gypsy. “Come down to me; I must have a word with you alone,” she whispered sibilantly. Mary gave a quick look around. Mrs. Dunlop was still deep in her gossip, and Robert was nowhere to be seen. She walked to the end of the balcony and found the steps. Quickly she reached the bottom, and going to Jean took her two hands in hers and shook them warmly. She was so glad to see anyone from Mossgiel, friend or foe.