"Well," exclaimed Murie, "what you tell me, old chap, is most extraordinary! Why, there is almost an exactly similar legend connected with Glencardine!" "Glencardine!" cried his friend. "Glencardine Castle, in Scotland! I've heard of that. Do you know the place?" "The estate marches with my father's, therefore I know it well. How extraordinary that there should be almost exactly the same legend concerning a Hungarian castle!" "Who is the owner of Glencardine?" "Sir Henry Heyburn, a friend of mine." "Heyburn!" echoed Hamilton. "Heyburn the blind man?" he gasped, grasping the arm of his chair and staring back at his companion. "And he is your friend? You know his daughter, then?" "Yes, I know Gabrielle," was Walter's reply, as there flashed across him the recollection of that passionate letter to which he had not replied. "Why?" "Is she also your friend?" "She certainly is." Hamilton was silent. He saw that he was treading dangerous ground. The legend of Glencardine was the same as that of the old Magyar stronghold of Hetzendorf. Gabrielle Heyburn was Murie's friend. Therefore he resolved to say no more. Gabrielle Heyburn! CHAPTER XXX REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON Edgar Hamilton sat with his eyes fixed upon the dingy, inartistic, smoke-begrimed windows of the chambers opposite. The man before him was acquainted with Gabrielle Heyburn! For over a year he had not been in London. He recollected the last occasion--recollected it, alas! only too well. His thin countenance wore a puzzled, anxious expression, the expression of a man face to face with a great difficulty. "Tell me, Walter," he said at last, "what kind of place is Glencardine Castle? What kind of man is Sir Henry Heyburn?" "Glencardine is one of the most beautiful estates in Scotland. It lies between Perth and Stirling. The ruins of the ancient castle, where the great Marquis of Glencardine, who was such a figure in Scottish history, was born, stands perched up above a deep, delightful glen; and some little distance off stands the modern house, built in great part from the ruins of the stronghold." "And there are noises heard there the same as at Hetzendorf, you say?" "Well, the countryfolk believe that, on certain nights, there can be heard in the castle courtyard distinct whispering--the counsel of the devil himself to certain conspirators who took the life of the notorious Cardinal Setoun." "Has any one actually heard them?" "They say so--or, at any rate, several persons after declaring that they had heard them have died quite suddenly." Hamilton pursed his lips. "Well," he exclaimed, "that's really most remarkable! Practically, the same legend is current in South Hungary regarding Hetzendorf. Strange--very strange!" "Very," remarked the heir to the great estate of Connachan. "But, after all, cannot one very often trace the same legend through the folklore of various countries? I remember I once attended a lecture upon that very interesting subject."