What did it mean? Thorkell could make nothing of it but that in some way it boded ill. In a bewildered state of semi-consciousness he ordered that a horse should be got ready and brought round to the front. Half an hour later he had risen from an untouched breakfast and was seated in the saddle. He rode past Tynwald Hill and through Foxdale to the south. Twenty times he drew up and half-reined his horse in another direction. But he went on again. He could turn about at any time. He never turned about. At two o'clock that day he stood before the low gate of the Castle and pulled at the great clanging bell. He seemed to be expected, and was immediately led to a chamber on the north of the courtyard. The room was small and low; it was dimly lighted by two lancet windows set deep into walls that seemed to be three yards thick. The floor was covered with a rush matting; a harp stood near the fireplace. A lady rose as Thorkell entered. She was elderly, but her dress was youthful. Her waist was short; her embroidered skirt was very long; she wore spangled shoes, and her hair was done into a knot on the top of her head. Thorkell stood before her with the mien of a culprit. She smiled and motioned him to a seat, and sat herself. "You have heard of the death of one of our two Deemsters?" she asked. Thorkell's face whitened, and he bowed his head. "A successor must soon be appointed, and the Deemster is always a Manxman; he must know the language of the common people." Thorkell's face wore a bewildered expression. The lady's manner was very suave. "The appointment is the gift of the Lord of the island, and the Duchess is asked to suggest a name." Thorkell's face lightened. He had regained all his composure. "The Duchess has heard a good account of you, Mr. Mylrea. She is told that by your great industry and--wisdom--you have raised yourself in life--become rich, in fact." The lady's voice dropped to a tone of most insinuating suavity. Thorkell stammered some commonplace. "Hush, Mr. Mylrea, you shall not depreciate yourself. The Duchess has heard that you are a man of enterprise--one who does not begrudge the penny that makes the pound." Thorkell saw it all. He was to be made Deemster, but he was to buy his appointment. The Duchess had lost money of late, and the swashbuckler court she kept had lately seen some abridgment of its gaieties. "To be brief, Mr. Mylrea, the Duchess has half an intention of suggesting your name for the post, but before doing so she wished me to see in what way your feelings lie with regard to it." Thorkell's little eyes twinkled, and his lips took an upward curve. He placed one hand over his breast and bent his head. "My feelings, madam, lie in one way only--the way of gratitude," he said, meekly. The lady's face broadened, and there was a pause. "It is a great distinction, Mr. Mylrea," said the lady, and she drew her breath inward. "The greater my gratitude," said Thorkell.