"I propose to avoid the painful family scandal which further disclosures and more publicity would almost certainly bring about; so long as I am justified as Procurator Fiscal in taking this course. And until I get more evidence, I am not only justified but forced to take this course." Ned suddenly jumped to his feet. "I'm no lawyer," said he, "but to me you seem to be arguing in the damnedest circle I ever met. You won't do anything because you can't get more evidence. And you won't look for more evidence because you don't want to do anything." There was more than a hint of temper in Simon's eye and his answer was rapped out sharply. "I certainly do not _want_ to cause a family scandal. I haven't said all I could say about Sir Malcolm if I were pressed." "Why not?" "I've told you. Suspicion is not evidence, but if I do get evidence, those who will suffer by it had better beware!" Ned turned at the door and surveyed him with a cool and caustic eye. "That's talk," he said, "and something has got to be _done_." He was gone, and Simon Rattar was left frowning at the closed door behind him. The frown remained, but became now rather thoughtful than indignant. Then he sprang up and began to pace the floor, deliberately at first, and then more rapidly and with increasing agitation. XVIII L1200 Ned Cromarty had returned home and was going upstairs, when he heard a voice cry: "Ned!" The ancient stone stair, spiralling up round the time-worn pillar that seemed to have no beginning or end, gave at intervals on to doors which looked like apertures in a cliff. Through one of these he turned and at the end of a brief passage came to his sister's sitting room. In that mediaeval setting of ponderous stone, it looked almost fantastic in its daintiness. It was a small room of many cushions and many colours, its floor covered with the softest rugs and its walls with innumerable photographs, largely of country houses where Miss Cromarty had visited. Evidently she was a lady accustomed to a comfortable life in her roving days, and her sitting room seemed to indicate very distinctly that she proposed to live up to this high standard permanently. "Oh Neddy dear, I want to talk to you about something," she began in her brisk way and with her brightest smile. Her brother, though of a simple nature, was by this time aware that when he was termed "Neddy dear" the conversation was apt to turn on Miss Cromarty's requirements. "Well," said he, "how much is the cheque to be this time?" "How clever you're getting!" she laughed. "But it isn't a cheque I want this time. It's only a motor car." He looked at her doubtfully for a moment. "Pulling my leg; or a real car?" "Real car of course--nice one too!" "But, my dear girl, we've just put down our car. You agreed it was necessary." "I agreed then; but it isn't necessary now." "Have you come into a fortune? I haven't!" "You've come into L1200."