The shades of evening were beginning to envelop the landscape as Peebles made his slow and toilsome way towards Blake’s Hall. The old man had been in a ferment of excitement all day long, and nothing but his long years of habit as chief officer and general director of Lord Kilpatrick’s household had sufficed to hold him back from fulfilling his momently recurring desire to throw his duties to the winds for that day, and at once proceed to put to Blake the question dictated to him by Moya Macartney. His discomposure had not escaped the notice of his master, who, since the shock occasioned by Desmond’s renunciation of him and his abrupt departure from the house, had kept his room, and had resented all approaches, even that of his favourite Dulcie, with an exaggeration of his usual snappish ill-temper. ‘What the deuce are you dreaming about, Peebles?’ he had asked, as the old servitor made some slight blunder in the service at his master’s solitary dinner-table. ‘If ye had an inkling of what I am dreaming about,’ Peebles had responded, with his customary drawl, ‘ye’d be in nae such a hurry to speer, maybe.’ At which his lordship had muttered an angry ‘Pshaw!’ and turned his face away. ‘Is there any news of--of Desmond?’ he asked a minute later. ‘No, my lord,’ answered Peebles; ‘none that I ken o’.’ He was in so mortal a dread of prematurely letting slip the secret of Moya’s presence in the neighbourhood that he would not trust himself to approach the subject at all. ‘Where is he?’ asked Kilpatrick. ‘They say he’s at Doolan’s farm,’ answered Peebles. ‘They say!’ snapped his lordship. ‘As if you didn’t know where the boy is, you disingenuous old brute!’ ‘Oh ay!’ said Peebles tranquilly. ‘Swear at me, wi’ a’ my heart, if it will ease your lordship’s heart, or your conscience.’ Kilpatrick pushed his plate aside. ‘Take these things away and bring the wine.’ Peebles obeyed, and filled his master’s glass, after which he lingered for a moment. ‘Well, Peebles, well? Have you anything to say?’ ‘Just that I’m going oot for an hour or twa. I hae a visit to make. If ye want anything in my absence the flunkey will look after ye.’ ‘Very good,’ answered Kilpatrick, who thought he knew the object of Peebles’ visit. ‘Peebles!’ he called, as the old man reached the door. ‘My lord!’ ‘Has--has the boy any resources--any funds?’ ‘Not that I ken o’,’ answered Peebles. ‘He was aye too open-handed.’ ‘Well, if he wants money--he wouldn’t take it from me, I suppose--lend him what he asks, and look to me for repayment. There, there, that will do.’ Peebles saluted and retired, and set out half an hour later for Blake’s Hall. Entering the rude sitting-room, he made out, through the gathering shadows, the figure of Blake leaning on the table.