"My husband did what I told him," she said. "Besides, the girl had disgraced herself, and we did not want to be dragged into it. Mind, I'm not sure, after all, but what she was properly married, and it may be I did wrong. But there it is--she's dead." "And did you hear anything more--have you ever heard anything more about this young Southerner?" "Well, we are not so sure about that," replied the woman. "You see, I never saw him but once before the time Jean said he married her, and so I cannot swear to him anywhere. But some time after Jean left a man came here, and, in a roundabout way, he found out what we knew about her." "And did you tell him she was dead?" "I told him just what I've told you," replied the woman. "And how did he take the news?" asked Paul. "Oh, nothing particular," replied the woman. "He just went on talking about something else, but I believe that was a bit of make-up." "Wasn't he a friend of the Grahams at a house called 'Highlands'?" asked Paul presently. "I believe there were some people called Graham at the time. It is said that they came there for their summer holidays, but they left before we had guessed about Jean's trouble, and so we could never find out anything about them." "What kind of a man was he--I mean the one who came asking questions?" "Oh, a middle-aged man, perhaps forty or fifty. He had iron-grey whiskers, and he was bald, I remember." "And he was the only one who ever came making inquiries?" asked Paul. "Yes, the only one." Paul's hopes were dashed to the ground again. Still, the man must have had some reason for coming North; no one would come all the way from England to make inquiries unless something of importance lay at the back of it. "What kind of questions did he ask?" continued the young man. "It is a good many years since," replied the woman, "and I am afraid I did not encourage him much. But as far as I can call to mind now, he asked how long since she had left, and whether anything had happened to her." "And did you tell him"--and Paul's voice was almost hoarse as he spoke--"did you tell him of--of what you call her disgrace?" "No," replied the woman harshly. "I am not one of that kind. Donald Lindsay's name is a good one, and I'm proud of it myself. Besides, I thought she was dead, and so--well, I said nothing." "And that is all you can tell me?" "That is all." From the little farmstead Paul went to "Highlands," but his visit seemed in vain. The people who occupied the house had lived there for some twelve years, and they had bought it from an agent as a summer residence. They had heard that the previous owner lived in Edinburgh, but they were not sure. They only knew he was in the habit of letting the house during the summer months. "Did you know the Grahams?" Paul asked.