There was no doubt of her intention to rebuke the too garrulous gentleman by this information, and it succeeded completely. He passed at once to the extreme of apology. "Oh! I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea. Really, I hope you will accept my apologies, Miss--er--Cromarty." "Miss Farmond," she corrected. "Miss Farmond, I mean. It was frightfully tactless of me!" He said it so nicely and looked so innocently guilty and so contrite, that her look lost its touch of indignation. "I still can't understand what you mean about Sir Malcolm being arrested," she said. "How did you hear?" "Oh, I was very likely misinformed. An old fellow at the hotel last night was saying so." Her eye began to grow indignant again. "What old fellow?" "Red hair, shaky knees, bit of a stammer, answers to the name of Sandy, I believe." "Old Sandy Donaldson!" she exclaimed. "That drunken old thing! He was simply talking nonsense as usual!" "He seemed a little in liquor," he admitted, "but you see I am a mere stranger. I didn't realise what a loose authority I quoted. There is nothing in the report, I am certain. And this path leads only to Keldale House? Thank you very much. Good morning!" How Mr. Carrington had obtained this erroneous information from a person whose back he had merely seen for a couple of minutes the night before, as the reprobate in question was being ejected from the Kings Arms, he did not stop to explain. In fact, at this point he showed no inclination to continue the conversation, but bowing very politely, continued his stroll. But the effect of the conversation on him remained, and a very marked effect it appeared to be. He took no interest in the burn any longer, but paced slowly on, his eyes sometimes on the path and sometimes staring upwards at the Heavens. So far as his face revealed his sensations, they seemed to be compounded of surprise and perplexity. Several times he shook his head as though some very baffling point had cropped up in his thoughts, and once he murmured: "I'm damned!" When the path reached the policies of the house, he stopped and seemed to take some interest in his surroundings once more. For a moment it was clear that he was tempted to enter the plantations, and then he shook his head and turned back. All the way home he remained immersed in thought and only recovered his nonchalant air as he entered the door of the Kings Arms. He was the same easy-going, smiling young man of fashion as he passed the time of day with Miss Peterkin; but when he had shut the door of his private sitting room and dropped into an easy chair over the fire, he again became so absorbed in thought that he had to be reminded that the hour of luncheon had passed.