"Well," he said slowly, "he has certainly been asking for trouble in one or two ways, and this seems another invitation. But he'll get it, sure! At the same time--what's his object?" His sister had no hesitation. "Either to make money or hide something disgraceful. You really must enquire into this, Ned!" He dropped into a chair and sat for a few minutes with his face in his hands. At last he looked up and shook his head. "I'm out of my depth," he said. "I guess I'd better see Carrington." "Mr. Carrington?" she exclaimed. "I had a long talk with him," he explained. "He seems an uncommon shrewd fellow. Yes, that's the proper line!" She looked at him curiously but evidently judged it tactful in the present delicate situation to ask no more. He rose now and went, still thoughtful, to the door. "What a dreadful thing of Simon Rattar to do! Wasn't it, Ned?" she said indignantly, her eyes as bright as ever again. He turned as she went out. "The whole thing has been damnable!" As the door closed behind him she made a little grimace again and then gave a little shrug. "He's going to marry her!" she said to herself, and acting immediately on a happy inspiration, sat down to write a long and affectionate letter to an old friend whose country house might, with judicious management, be considered good for a six months' visit. XXX A MARKED MAN The unexpected energy displayed by her charming guest in bustling all over the country had surprised and a little perplexed Miss Peterkin, but she now decided that it was only a passing phase, for on the day following his visits to Keldale and Stanesland he exhibited exactly the same leisurely calm she had admired at first. He sought out the local golf course and for an hour or two his creditable game confirmed his reputation as a sportsman, and for the rest of the time he idled in a very gentlemanly manner. In the course of the afternoon he strolled out and gradually drifted through the dusk towards the station. Finding the train was, as usual, indefinitely late, he strolled out again and finally drifted back just as the signals had fallen at last. It was quite dark by this time and the platform lamps were lit, but Mr. Carrington chanced to stand inconspicuously in a background of shadows. As the engine hissed ponderously under the station roof and the carriage doors began to open, he still stood there, the most casual of spectators. A few passengers passed him, and then came a young man in a fur coat, on whom some very curious glances had been thrown when he alighted from his first class compartment. Mr. Carrington, however, seemed to take no interest either in him or anybody else till the young man was actually passing him, and then he suddenly stepped out of the shadows, touched him on the shoulder and said in a much deeper and graver voice than usual: "Sir Malcolm Cromarty, I believe!" The young man started violently and turned a pale face. "Ye--es, I am," he stammered.