Naturally enough, Elspeth could not understand the hurried explanation of the doctor, and could not guess what an important clue the little man was following up. For a moment or two, she watched him puffing and panting down the dreary road, and then, with a sigh, she entered the spongy meadow wherein the caravan was standing. It looked bright and gay in its coat of yellow paint, although a portion of it was covered with tarpaulin to preserve from rain various brooms and brushes and mats and baskets, which dangled on all four sides. The day was still fine, but already the sky was darkening with the coming night, and the vehicle looked rather lonely in that wide bleak meadow. The horse which usually drew the caravan seemed to know this, for it kept as close as possible to its perambulating home. As Elspeth approached, she began to sing "Garryowen," since she was unable to whistle, so as to let Herries know that a friend was coming. Also when she climbed the steps, she gave the triple knock on the door, and waited with a beating heart for a sight of that dearly loved face. The door was cautiously opened, and she hastened to breathe her own name. Shortly she was within, and the door was again locked. Herries stepped across the gaping space of his cramped hiding-place, which was open. He usually kept it ready, so as to slip in and cover himself with the boards, which he could do by touching the spring, as speedily as possible. One never knew what stranger might come to the caravan, either in the way of business, or out of curiosity to see the sick woman. Rachel herself, looking much better and with a flush on her formerly pale cheeks, was sitting up. She received Elspeth with a rather knowing laugh, and held out a large hand, covered, gipsy-fashion, with silver rings. "I am glad to see you, my dear," she said in a hearty tone. "I can talk now, as my throat is getting rapidly well, thanks to Dr. Herries." "I am not exactly a doctor," said the young man, smiling, "you can call me Mr. Herries, the surgeon." "Oh, you're a doctor right enough," said the proprietress of the caravan with a nod. "No one could have cured me so quickly as you have done. And Sweetlips will help you, doctor, as you have helped me. See if he doesn't. You'll walk a free man yet." "What is the verdict, Elspeth?" asked Herries, anxiously, "but I need not ask," he added, smiling bitterly. "Wilful murder, eh, and Angus Herries the murderer? I thought so." Elspeth nodded, and leaned against the wall of the vehicle, as her heart was too full to speak. Mrs. Kind strove to cheer the poor young fellow who was dreeing so hard a weird. "Come, come," she cried, in a hearty, good-humoured voice, "you're no worse off than you were before." "Ah, but I think he is," said Elspeth, clasping her thin hands. "There is now a reward of five hundred pounds offered." Herries started and flushed and bit his lip. "By whom?" "Miss Tedder."