As a matter of fact he had got all he wanted. He wanted Mrs. Shairp out of the house for a week or ten days. For that space of time he wished to have Netherglen to himself. She announced, after some hesitation, that she would leave for Aberdeen on the twenty-eighth, and that she should stay a week, or at the most, a day or two longer. "She's safe for a fortnight," said Hugo to himself with a triumphant smile. He had other preparations to make, and he set to work to make them steadily. It was a remark made by Kitty herself at their last interview that had suggested to his mind the whole mad scheme to which he was devoting his mental powers. It all hinged upon the fact that Kitty was going to spend a week with some friends in Edinburgh--friends whom Hugo knew only by name. She went to them on the twenty-seventh. Mrs. Shairp left Netherglen the twenty-eighth. Two hours after Mrs. Shairp had started on her journey the two remaining servants were dismissed. The plumber, who had been severely inspected and cautioned as to his behaviour that morning by Mrs. Shairp, was sent about his business. One of the nurses was also discharged. The only persons left in the house beside Mrs. Luttrell, the solitary nurse, and Hugo himself, were two; a young kitchen-maid, generally supposed to be somewhat deficient in intellect, and a man named Stevens, whom Hugo had employed at various times in various capacities, and characterised (with rather an odd smile) as "a very useful fellow." The nurse who remained, protested vigorously against this state of affairs, but was assured by Hugo in the politest manner, that it would last only for a day or two, that he regretted it as much as she did, that he would telegraph to Edinburgh for another nurse immediately. What could the poor woman do? She was obliged to submit to circumstances. She could no more withstand Hugo's smiling, than she liked to refuse--in despite of all rules--the handsome gratuity that he slid into her hand. Meanwhile, Kitty was trying to forget her past sorrows in the society of some newly-made friends in Edinburgh. Here, if anywhere, she might forget that Rupert Vivian had despised her, and that Hugo Luttrell accused her of being a heartless coquette. She was not heartless--or, at least, not more so than girls of eighteen usually are--but, perhaps, she was a little bit of a coquette. Of course, she had acted foolishly with respect to Vivian and Hugo Luttrell. But her foolishness brought its own punishment. It was on the second day of her visit that a telegram was brought to her. She tore it open in some surprise, exclaiming:-- "They must have had news of Percival!" Then she read the message and turned pale. "What is it?" said one of her friends, coming to her side. Kitty held out the paper for her to read.