"When you called at my office, a few days ago," explained the doctor, "you did me the honor to confide to me your impressions with regard to my friends, Miss Lyte and Mr. Arling. I thought you were mistaken, and told you so. It turns out, however, that the mistake was on my part, not yours. I was really blind--not wilfully so, as you had the charity to suppose. I mention the matter the more readily because it must soon be patent to everybody. Good morning." And without waiting for a reply, Doctor Remy courteously lifted his hat, and went his way, with a curious smile on his lips. "That last intimation ensures speed," said he to himself. "Miss Ferrars will do her best to be beforehand with the news. Before to-morrow morning, it will be known throughout the town. Then, I can easily manage so that it shall reach the Major's ears, and--by the help of my loving commentary--produce the desired effect. Astra must be gotten out of the way, for the present, at least. So must Arling; last night's business convinced me that he is more dangerous than I imagined. The Major deceives himself, but he does not deceive me; his bitterness towards his nephew is nothing more than piqued and smothered affection,--affection undergoing fermentation, as it were, and certain to work itself clear and sweet, in time. If Arling remains in the neighborhood, the Major will soon be seizing upon some pretext for a reconciliation. Failing of that, Miss Carice is certain to inherit his estate; just because he wooed--and did not win--her mother, some twenty-five or thirty years ago! No doubt, a marriage between the two would suit him exactly, if he once got hold of the idea. Yes, Arling must be gotten rid of. But how?" He bent his brows moodily. Some expedient, apparently, soon suggested itself to him, and was immediately rejected with a shake of the head. "No, not _that_ way," he muttered. "I'm determined against actual, point-blank crime, so called,--except as a last resource. Besides, it is not necessary; I only want to get rid of him until the Major is dead, and Miss Carice is my wife. There _must_ be some way to dispose of him, by lawful means, if I could only hit upon it! Really, if there were a Devil, as some people believe, he would strain a point now in my favor! At all events, I think I see my way clear with Astra." He was silent, for an instant; his brow grew sombre with unwonted regret.