She made her way past them and up the stairs, feeling a trifle dazed. This unlooked-for recognition complicated matters for herself; but did not alter her determination to risk all in order to get Marmaduke out of the hands of Fantine Le Grand. So she packed up her things, leaving all the treasures of her childhood and her mother's, unlocked in drawers and cupboards, and sitting down on her bed by the window took her last look out over the rugged coast she had watched so often by storm and shine, by night and by day. And as she looked with lack-lustre, preoccupied eyes her thoughts were busy, not with the past but with the new life that was opening out before her; since, come what might, she realised that never again would she be simple Marrion Paul, old Davie Sim's granddaughter. To begin with, if she knew aught of Penelope, reputation was gone. Women of that sort were pitiless, and, in addition, her grandfather's wife desired nothing more than to make Drummuir and all belonging to it an impossibility for her step-granddaughter. Then she, Marrion, had definitely set herself the task of defending Marmaduke, and heaven only knew how far that might take her. For one thing, in view of Penelope's curiosity, she must make sure that Marmaduke had not left anything incriminating behind him at the Cross-keys. It would be so like him to write Captain the Honourable Marmaduke Muir and Mrs. Muir in the visitor's book! The idea made her smile tenderly, even while she took a mental note that it must be seen to. So, going down, while it was yet early, to order a handcart to take her slight luggage to the coach office, she came upon a castle stable-boy, who was a distant admirer of hers, riding to the Cross-keys with a note. "It's frae the dancin' woman," said the lad, with a broad grin, "an' she guve me a golden soverin' to take it quick; an' I've to leave anither at the Crow." "I can deliver that one," said Marrion cheerfully, "for I'm goin' yon way." So, note in hand, she made her way to the Crow, and by a dexterous question or two elicited the fact that, as on the previous night, a carriage was ordered to be in waiting at half-past nine. If all went well, therefore, she might hope to avail herself of it. She did not, however, anticipate exactly what she meant to do--her plans were fluid, so much depending on the success of her next step. It was an overwhelmingly bold one, and she shivered visibly as she sat waiting for an answer to her request to be allowed an interview with his lordship. "I'm right sure his lordship wad see me," she pleaded with Dewar, the valet, who in common with all the men-servants at the castle, had an approving eye on her good looks, "did he ken what I cam' about; and"--she added, with a laugh that was a challenge--"I'm no sae ill-looking but he might be blythe to see me forbye business." "An' that's God's truth, my dear," replied Dewar gallantly, "sae I'll see what I can do."