"What is it I'm to read? Is it anything remarkable? Show me where it is." She showed him again. "Races? What have I to do with races? Oh, there!--I see!" He read the paragraph conscientiously through; then looked over the top of the paper at his womenfolk. "Well? It's a commonplace and disagreeable story; what special interest is it supposed to have for me? You know I don't care to read about such things. What is there about this that you should thrust it on my attention?" His mental processes never were of the quickest. On occasions his family had a feeling that his wits needed oiling; they seemed to be moving slower than ever just then. His wife exclaimed: "Don't you see the names?" "Names? Emmett?--Emmett? I seem to have heard the name before; now in what connection have I heard it?" "It's the name of Dorothy's guardian. Harold, read that paragraph again, and then say if nothing about it strikes you as being of interest to you." Mr Vernon did as he was told. On a second reading it dawned on him what his wife alluded to--dawned on him with a sense of shock. "God bless my soul! You--you don't mean to say that you for one moment imagine that anything about this painful story refers to Miss Gilbert?--to our Miss Gilbert?--to Frances' Miss Gilbert?" Before his wife could answer, there came rushing into the room, with that unceremonious haste with which some young men will rush into rooms, his son--excitement writ large all over him; and a paper--which was not _The Times_--in his hand. "I say, mater!--and dad!--this is a jolly pretty state of things! Have you heard about it?--everybody else has!--it seems we're the only people who haven't! I don't know what Strathmoira's thinking about! I call it pretty thick!" Agitation made his meaning less clear than he appeared to think. "James," observed his father, "if you will cease bounding about the room as if you were possessed; and will not bawl; and will be a little less idiomatic, it is possible that your mother and I will get some idea of what it is you are talking about." "But, dad, Dorothy Gilbert--Miss Gilbert's wanted for murder!" His meaning was clear enough then. "Jim!" His name came from his mother and sister in practically the same instant. "It's no good you two looking at me like that! there's no getting away from the truth!--look at this!" He pointed to a staring headline which ran across two columns of the paper which he held in front of them: "Where Is Dorothy Gilbert?" "That's a nice thing for me to find glaring at me when I buy an evening paper to look at the cricket! I never felt anything like what I felt when I saw that! Yes, where is she? I can tell you this, there's scarcely a person who was here this afternoon who doesn't know! I expect it's all over the place by now!--at any moment you may have half-a-dozen policemen coming up the drive!" "Jim, if--if you don't take care what you are saying I'll never speak to you again."