Yet he would not be tempted, and they walked on together in silence, leaving him to tell the story. "I as near as makes no difference peppered David and Miss Byrne just now," they heard him begin, and then Lord Ashiel's voice broke in in an angry tone as they passed out of earshot. David's loader reported afterwards that that young gentleman and Miss Byrne, when she waited with him in the butt, seemed to find very little to talk about. And it was a long wait before any birds came up, on that beat. CHAPTER VII It was a few days after this that Gimblet, taking up an evening paper at the Club, was startled to see a sinister headline of "Murder," immediately followed by the name of Ashiel. "MURDER OF A SCOTCH PEER." "LORD ASHIEL SHOT DEAD IN HIS OWN HOUSE." "ESCAPE OF MURDERER." "They've got him," he muttered between his teeth as he hastily began to read the paragraph that followed: "News reaches us, as we go to press, of a dastardly crime, involving the death of Lord Ashiel, which occurred late last night at his residence in the Highlands of Scotland. Lord Ashiel was sitting quietly in his library at Inverashiel Castle, when a shot was fired through the window by someone in the grounds, which wounded his Lordship so severely that death took place instantaneously. Although the household was immediately alarmed and a thorough search made through the garden and grounds surrounding the castle, the murderer contrived to escape. The police are continuing their search in the neighbourhood, and it is believed that a very strong clue to the scoundrel has been discovered. Douglas, Lord Ashiel, was the seventh Baron. He was born in 1869, educated at Eton and Oxford, and served for some years in the Diplomatic Service. He was a widower and childless, and is succeeded in the title by his nephew, Mr. Mark McConachan." There was nothing more. Gimblet strode out of the Club and drove to New Scotland Yard. The Superintendent of the Criminal Investigation Department was in, and received him gladly. Gimblet held out the paper he had carried off from the Club and pointed to the news of the tragedy. "Is all this correct?" he asked. "Yes, yes, indeed," replied Mr. Beech, the superintendent. "We heard of it this morning. The Glasgow people have sent their men up, but it will take them all day to get to the place. Inverashiel is on the West Coast, and not what one would call easy to get at. They ought to be there about five o'clock." "Who has gone?" asked Gimblet.