"I quite agree with you," said Browne heartily. "Well, good-bye, Herries, I must return to the inn, and to-morrow, I'll see Miss Tedder at Tarhaven. And Gowrie?" "I'll find him," said Kind, quickly, "he certainly may be able to help, and he will too. Elspeth will make him!" "How do you know?" "Elspeth said that she was Gowrie's daughter," said Kind briefly. "The man is unknown to me, but Elspeth will find him." CHAPTER VIII MISS MAUD TEDDER Tarhaven, as everyone knows, is a town of recent origin. As it is within a reasonable distance of the metropolis, and the railway fares are not too high, trippers come down every bank-holiday to the number of thousands. Likewise, owing to the facilities for reaching London, many clerks and business men make their abode there, and the town, thanks to improved locomotion, may be called a suburb of the great city. And as the streets of Tarhaven are wide, and the houses comfortable, and there is always plenty of amusement, the place is invariably full of people. There is a floating, as well as a resident population, of no small number, consequently Tarhaven is able to rank as a seaside resort along with Brighton, Bournemouth, and Scarborough. On the outskirts of the modern town, Sir Simon Tedder had built a palatial mansion, or rather he had added largely to the ancient manor-house, which he had purchased from a decayed family, who were lords of the place long before Tarhaven sprang into notoriety. The town itself grew out of the nucleus of a tiny fishing village below the cliffs, and now spread out far into the country, pushing back the woods, swallowing up the villages, and turning old highways into modern streets with smart shops. The "Moated Hall," Sir Simon kept to the ancient name, because there really was a moat, although the same was devoid of water, stood on a slight eminence, one mile from Tarhaven, in the middle of a well-wooded park, and was as shut in from the world as was the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. Restored and added to by an artist, the place maintained its old-world air, and resembled one of those delightful houses which appear in the middle pages of "Country Life." When Dr. Browne entered the grounds through the scrolled gilt iron gates, and proceeded up the ancient avenue between elms and oaks, and beech-trees and ash-trees, he emerged into the wide space in the centre of which, elevated on its mound, rose the antique fabric of warm-hued red brick. He acknowledged that it was hard on the owner of such magnificence to meet his death in an obscure inn. Sir Simon had sprung from nothing, and by his own unaided endeavours had attained to this splendour, only--as it would seem,--to finally depart this life, in the mire, out of which he had crawled.