"By Jove!" he said slowly, almost absently. "I didn't think of that, but"--he hesitated, in his turn--"but I thought, Marmie, you said you--you loved me!" His voice lingered and lowered in altogether distracting fashion. She turned hastily to the other oar, and let the blade drop into the water with a splash. "Aye," she said, "that's why! For see, you--you've got to be Lord Drummuir!" Her words silenced him. He watched her scull away, a dark shadow in the darkling water. Then his voice rang out to her as it were from very far off. "Flash the light to me, Marmie, dear, when you get to the other side. I'll wait till I see you're safe." CHAPTER X Broad sunlight showed through the chinks of the drawn curtains when Fantine Le Grand awoke. She lay yawning for a minute or two, content to be still drowsy. Then memory returned, and she was out of bed in a second and at the window. The lawns lay dewy, a late blackbird was tugging away at an inadvertent worm, and shrill on the morning air rose the sound of Davie Sim's pipes playing "Hey! Johnnie Cope, are ye waukin' yet?" as he came up from the keep to strut through the corridors of the castle. It must be eight o'clock! And--what had happened? How had she come to sleep so long? She passed swiftly, being quick of thought, to the dressing-table and took up the bottle of sleeping drops. It was half empty. Almost before she had time to realise this, and what it might possibly mean, a knock came to the door, and Marrion Paul, opening it, came into the room with a can of hot water. She had been there at the earliest possible moment to satisfy herself that all was right, so she was not surprised to see Fantine Le Grand on foot. The look on the latter's face, however, the bottle in her hand, gave warning of what was to come, and it came instantly short and sharp, for Fantine had plenty of wit. "Why did you give me what you did?" she asked imperiously. Marrion Paul set down the water-can and faced her. "Because I wanted to prevent you from joining Captain Muir at the Cross-keys," she replied quietly. It was waste of time, she felt, to beat about the bush with this woman, the solid truth was her best weapon. It proved so for the moment. Fantine utterly taken aback retired into personal injury. "You might have killed me," she began, almost whimperingly. "Maybe," interrupted Marrion, "but I had to risk it--an' it's no hurt you----" A sense of outrage came to her victim. "Not hurt me, indeed! And why had you to risk it? Are you Captain Muir's keeper? His mistress you are, of course; but if you think you've succeeded you're very much mistaken. I shall join him by the coach to-morrow instead of to-day. And you may thank your stars that, as I don't want any fuss just now, you'll get scot free of your attempt to murder me. Now go! I never want to see your face again. Josephine will manage somehow, I've no doubt."