"Bisset is evidently extremely anxious to save the credit of the family." Ned Cromarty was aroused now. "Good God!" he cried. "But do you mean to say that you think that story will hold water?" "What story?" enquired Carrington mildly. "You know what I mean--the scandal that Sir Malcolm and--and a lady were concerned in the murder." "They are said to have actually committed it, aren't they?" Ned's eye began to look dangerous. "Do you think it's credible?" he asked brusquely. "You know them better than I. Do you think it is?" "Not for an instant!" "I haven't met Sir Malcolm," said Carrington, wiping his eyeglass on his handkerchief. "I can't judge of him. What sort of a fellow is he?" "A bit of a young squirt," said Ned candidly. "But I'll not believe he's a murderer till I get some proof of it." "And Miss Farmond? Is she at all a murderous lady?" He fixed his monocle in his eye just in time to see his host control himself after what seemed to have been a somewhat violent spasm. "I'll stake my life on her innocence!" said Ned, and it was hard to know whether his manner as he said this should be termed fierce or solemn. For the space of perhaps two seconds Carrington's eyeglass stared very straight at him, and immediately afterwards was taken out for cleaning again, while its owner seemed to have found some new food for thought. The silence was broken by Ned asking brusquely: "Don't you believe me?" Again his visitor fixed the monocle in his eye, and he answered now very quietly and deliberately: "I happened to meet a young lady one afternoon, whom I discovered to be Miss Farmond. My own impression--for what it is worth--is that it would be a mere waste of time to investigate the suspicion against her, supposing, that is, that one were a detective or anything of that kind engaged in this case." "You think she is innocent?" asked Ned eagerly. "I am quite certain of it, so far as I am any judge." Ned heaved a sigh of relief, and for an instant a smile flitted across Carrington's face. It seemed as though he were amused at such a tribute to the opinion of a mere chance visitor. "And Sir Malcolm?" enquired Ned. Carrington shook his head. "I have no means of judging--yet." Ned glanced at him quickly. "Do you expect to get hold of a means?" Carrington's smile was his only answer to the question. And then, still smiling, he said: "I rather wonder, Mr. Cromarty, that you who have taken so much interest in this case, and who are, I am told, the head of the family, don't get some professional assistance to help you to get at the bottom of it." Ned's mouth shut hard and his eyes turned to the fire. He said nothing for a moment and then remarked: "Well, I guess that's worth thinking over." Carrington's shoulders moved in an almost imperceptible shrug, but he made no comment aloud. In a moment Ned said: