About half-past twelve he passed through the familiar gateway to Achree and made his way to the house. His pulses scarcely stirred as he did so. The place of his fathers made no appeal to him. It was merely stone and lime, and if it had been in his power he would have sold it for hard cash to any purchaser. In fact, the thought uppermost in his mind as he approached the door was that, having once caught the millionaire, he might find it worth while to keep him. He determined to make himself, somehow, master of the law of entail in order to discover whether there was any loophole of escape from the disability to sell it. Not in his father’s lifetime, of course. But when Isla and he should be left, of what use would this great, rambling, uncomfortable old house and its attendant acres of hungry moor and hill be? Far better convert it into the money with which they could enjoy life, making choice in the whole wide world of a place of abode. A woman-servant opened the door to him, and in answer to his inquiry, informed him that Mr. Rosmead was not at home. Malcolm’s sharp eyes noted in the hall beyond the flutter of a petticoat, and as he turned to go he purposely raised his voice. "I am sorry that I’ve not a card on me. Will you be so kind as to tell him that Mr. Malcolm Mackinnon from Creagh called to see him and that he will call another day?" "Yes, sir," said the girl. But at that moment the figure within came towards the door. It was Sadie, who, having heard the name, advanced with an insatiable curiosity. She extended a very frank hand. "So you are Mr. Mackinnon that was expected home from India," she said, showing her dazzling teeth in her smile. "Won’t you come in and have a bit of lunch with my sister and me? We shall be alone, as my mother does not yet come down." "Thank you, Miss Rosmead. But that would be presuming on a very slight acquaintance--in fact, none at all, wouldn’t it?" "Oh, but we know your sister and that perfectly dear old father of yours, and, anyway, this is your house and you must want to have a look at the old place after having been away so long. I’ve no doubt you are hating us for being here. Come in. Oh, Vivien, do come here! It was Mr. Mackinnon whom we met on the road, and I am asking him to lunch." Malcolm passed into the house, hat in hand, and was duly introduced to Mrs. Rodney Payne. Seen at closer quarters, she was even more beautiful than he had thought. The still repose of her manner contrasted strongly with her sister’s vivacity and seemed from the first to cast a sort of spell over Mackinnon.