That evening Mr. Carrington joined the choice spirits in the manageress' room, and they had a very long and entertaining gossip. The conversation turned this time chiefly on the subject of Mr. Simon Rattar, and if by the end of it the agreeable visitor was not fully acquainted with the history of that local celebrity, of his erring partner, and of his father before him, it was not the fault of Miss Peterkin and her friends. Nor could it fairly be said to be the visitor's fault either, for his questions were as numerous as they were intelligent. XXXI THE LETTER AGAIN On the morning after Sir Malcolm's fleeting visit to the Kings Arms, the manageress was informed by her friend Mr. Carrington that he would like a car immediately after breakfast. "I really must be a little more energetic, or I'll never find anything to suit me," he smiled in his most leisurely manner. "I am thinking of running out to Keldale to have another look at the place. It might be worth taking if they'd let it." "But you've been to Keldale already, Mr. Carrington!" said Miss Peterkin. "I wonder you don't have a look at one of the other places." "I'm one of those fellows who make up their minds slowly," he explained. "But when we cautious fellows do make up our minds, well, something generally happens!" Circumstances, however, prevented this enthusiastic sportsman from making any further enquiry as to the letting of the Keldale shootings. When Bisset appeared at the front door consternation was in his face. It was veiled under a restrained professional manner, but not sufficiently to escape his visitor's eye. "What's up?" he asked at once. Bisset looked for a moment into his sympathetic face, and then in grave whisper said: "Step in, sir, and I'll tell ye." He led him into a small morning room, carefully closed the door, and announced, "Miss Farmond has gone, sir!" "Gone. When and how?" "Run away, sir, on her bicycle yesterday afternoon and deil a sign of her since!" "Any luggage?" "Just a wee suit case." "No message left, or anything of that kind?" "Not a word or a line, sir." "The devil!" murmured Carrington. "That's just exac'ly it, sir!" "No known cause? No difficulty with Lady Cromarty or anything?" "Nothing that's come to my ears, sir." Carrington stared blankly into space and remained silent for several minutes. Bisset watched his assistant with growing anxiety. "Surely, sir," he burst forth at last, "you're not thinking this goes to indicate any deductions or datas showing she's guilty?" "I'm dashed if I know what to think," murmured Carrington still lost in thought. Suddenly he turned his eyeglass on the other. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "the day before yesterday I passed that girl riding on a bicycle towards Keldale House after dark! Do you know where she had been?" "Into the town, sir. I knew she was out, of course, and she just mentioned afterwards where she had been." "Have you any idea whom she saw or what she did?"