"It's an odd thing," said Percival, with a puzzled look, "that Kitty won't see me."

"Won't see you?" ejaculated Rupert.

They had arrived at Dunmuir the previous day, and located themselves at the hotel. Arthur Fane had come with them, but he was at present in the smoking-room, and the two friends had their parlour to themselves.

"Exactly. Sent word she was ill."

"Through whom?"

"A servant. A man whom I have seen with Luttrell several times. Stevens, they call him."

"Did you see Hugo Luttrell?"

"No. I heard his voice."

"He was in the house then?"

"Yes. I suppose he did not care to see me."

"You are curiously unsuspicious for a man of your experience," said Vivian, resting his head on one hand with a sort of sigh.

Percival started to his feet. "You think that it was a blind?" he cried.

"No doubt of it. He does not want you to see your sister."

"What for? Good Heavens! you don't mean to insinuate that he does not treat her well?"

"No. I don't mean to insinuate anything."

"Then tell me in plain English what you do mean."

"I can't, Percival. I have vague suspicions, that is all."

"It was a love-match," said Percival, after a moment's pause. "They ought to be happy together."

Rupert was silent a moment; then he said, in a low voice—

"I doubt whether it was a love-match exactly."

"What in Heaven or earth do you mean?" said Percival, staring. "What else could it be?"

But before Vivian could make any response, young Fane entered the room with the air of one who has had good news.

"Mr. Colquhoun asks me to tell you that he has just had a letter from Mr. Brian Luttrell, sir. He is to meet Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell at the station at nine o'clock, but their arrival is not to be made generally known. Only hearing that you were here, he thought it better to let you know."

"They could not have got Angela's letter," said Rupert. "I wonder why they are coming. It is very opportune."

"If you don't mind," remarked Percival, "I'll go and see Mr. Colquhoun. I want to know what he thinks of our adventures. And he may tell me something about affairs at Netherglen."

He departed on his errand, whistling as he went; but the whistle died on his lips as soon as he was out of Rupert's hearing. He resumed his geniality of bearing, however, when he stood in Mr. Colquhoun's office.

"Well, Mr. Colquhoun," he said, "I think we have all taken you by surprise now."

The old man looked at him keenly over his spectacles.

"I won't say but what you have," he said, with an emphasis on the pronoun. Percival laughed cheerily.

"Thanks. That's a compliment."

"It's just the truth. You've done a very right thing, and a generous one, Mr. Heron; and I shall esteem it an honour to shake hands with you." And Mr. Colquhoun got up from his office-chair, and held out his hand with a look of congratulation. Percival gave it a good grip, and resumed, in an airier tone than ever.

"You do me proud, as a Yankee would say, Mr. Colquhoun. I'm sure I don't see what I've done to merit this mark of approval. Popular report says that I jilted Miss Murray in the most atrocious manner; but then you always wanted me to do that, I remember."

"Lad, lad," said the old man, reprovingly, "what is all this bluster and swagger about? Take the credit of having made a sacrifice for once in your life, and don't be too ready to say it cost you nothing. Man, didn't I see you on the street just now, with your hands in your pockets and your face as black as my shoe? You hadn't those wrinkles in your brow when you started for Pernambuco six months ago. It's pure childishness to pretend that you feel nothing and care for nothing, when we all know that you've had a sore trouble and a hard fight of it. But you've conquered, Mr. Heron, as I thought you would."

Percival sat perfectly still. His face wore at first an expression of great surprise. Then it relaxed, and became intently grave and even sad, but the defiant bitterness disappeared.

"I think you're right," he said, after a long pause. "Of course, I've—I've been hit pretty hard. But I don't want people to know. I don't want her to know. And I don't mean either to snivel or to sulk. But I see what you mean; and I think you may be right."

Mr. Colquhoun made some figures on his blotting-pad, and did not look up for a few minutes. He was glad that his visitor had dropped his sneering tone. And, indeed, Percival dropped it for the remainder of his visit, and, although he talked of scarcely anything but trivial topics, he went away feeling as if Mr. Colquhoun was no longer an enemy, but a confidential friend. On his return to the hotel, he found that Vivian had gone out with Arthur Fane. He occupied himself with strolling idly about Dunmuir till they came back.

Vivian had ordered a dog-cart, and got Fane to drive him up to Netherglen. He thought it possible that he might gain admittance, although Percival had not done so. But he was mistaken. He was assured by the impassive Stevens that Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was too unwell to see visitors, and that Mr. Luttrell was not at home. Vivian was forced to drive away, baffled and impatient.

"Drive me round by the loch," he said to Fane. "There is a road running close to the water. I should like to go that way. What does the loch look like to-day, Fane? Is it bright?"

"Yes, very bright."

"And the sky is clear?"

"Clear in the south and east. There are clouds coming up from the north-west; we shall have rain to-night."

They drove on silently, until at last Fane said, in rather a hesitating tone:—

"There is a lady making signs to us to turn round to wait, sir. She is a little way behind us."

"A lady? Stop then; stop at once. Is she near? What is she like? Is she young?"

"Very young, very slight. She is close to us now," said Fane, as he checked his horse.

Rupert bent forward with a look of eager expectation. He heard a footstep on the road; surely he knew it? He knew the voice well enough as it spoke his name.

"Mr. Vivian!"

"Kitty!" he said, eagerly. Then, in a soberer tone: "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Luttrell, I have just been calling at Netherglen and heard that you were ill."

"I am not ill, but I do not see visitors," said Kitty, in a constrained voice. "I wanted to speak to you; I saw you from the garden. I thought I should never make you hear."

"Will you wait one moment until I get down from my high perch? Fane will help me; I feel rather helpless at present."

"Can you turn back with me for a few minutes?"

"Certainly."

They walked for a few steps side by side, he with his hand resting on her arm for the sake of guidance. The soft spring breezes played upon their faces; the scent of wild flowers came to their nostrils, the song of building birds to their ears. But they noted none of these things.

Vivian stopped short at last, and spoke authoritatively.

"Now, Kitty, what does this mean? Why can you not see your brother and me when we call upon you?"

"My husband does not wish it," she said, faintly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know." Then, in a more decided tone: "He likes to thwart my wishes, that is all."

"That was why you warned Angela not to answer your letter?"

"Yes." Then, under her breath:—"I was afraid."

"But, my child, what are you afraid of?"

She uttered a short, stifled sob.

"I can't tell you," she said.

"Surely," said Rupert, "he would not hurt you?"

"No," she said, "perhaps not. I do not know."

There was a dreariness in her tone which went to Rupert's heart.

"Take courage," he said. "Brian and Elizabeth will be in Dunmuir to-night. Shall they come to see you?"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" cried Kitty. "Let them come at once—at once, tell them. You will see them, will you not?" She had forgotten Rupert's blindness. "If they come, I shall be prevented from meeting them, perhaps; I know I shall not be allowed to talk to them alone. Tell Mr. Luttrell to come and live at Netherglen. Tell him to turn us out. I shall be thankful to him all my life if he turns us out. I want to go!"

"You want to leave Netherglen?"

"Yes, yes, as quick as possible. Tell him that Mrs. Luttrell wants him—that she is sorry for having been so harsh to him. I know it. I can see it in her eyes. I tell her everything that I hear about him, and I know she likes it. She is pleased that he has married Elizabeth. Tell him to come to-night."

"To-night?" said Rupert. He began to fear that her troubles had affected her brain.

"Yes, to-night. Remember to tell him so. To-morrow may be too late. Now, go, go. He may come home at any moment; and if he saw you"—she caught her breath with a sob—"if he saw you here, I think that he would kill me."

"Kitty, Kitty! It cannot be so bad as this."

"Indeed, it is—and worse than you know," she said, bitterly. "Now let me lead you back. Thank you for coming. And tell Brian—be sure you tell Brian to come home to-night. It is his right, nobody can keep him out. But not alone. Tell him not to come alone."

It was with these words ringing in his ears that Rupert was driven back to Dunmuir.

Brian and his wife arrived about nine o'clock in the evening, as they had said in the letter which Mr. Colquhoun had received. Vivian, wrought up by this time to a high pitch of excitement, did not wait five minutes before pouring the whole of his story into Brian's ear. Brian's eyes flashed, his face looked stern as he listened to Kitty's message.

"The hound!" he said. "The cur! I expected almost as much. I know now what I never dreamt of before. He is a cowardly villain, and I will expose him this very night."

"Remember poor Kitty," said Elizabeth.

"I will spare her as much as possible, but I will not spare him. Do you know, Vivian, that he tried to murder Dino Vasari? There is not a blacker villain on the face of the earth. And to think that all this time my mother has been at his mercy!"

"His mother!" ejaculated Mr. Colquhoun in Percival's ear, with a chuckle of extreme satisfaction, "I'm glad he's come back to that nomenclature. Blood's thicker than water; and I'll stand to it, as I always have done, that this Brian's the right one after all."

"It's the only one there is, now," said Percival, "Vasari is dead."

"Poor laddie! Well, he was just too good for this wicked world," said the lawyer, with great cheerfulness, "and it would be a pity to grudge him to another. And what are you after now, Brian?"

"I'm going up to Netherglen."

"Without your dinner?"

"What do I care for dinner when my mother's life may be in danger?" said Brian.

"Tut, tut! Why should it be in danger to-night of all nights in the year?" said Mr. Colquhoun, testily.

"Why? Can you ask? Have you not told me yourself that my mother made a will before her illness, leaving all that she possessed to Hugo? Depend upon it, he is anxious to get Netherglen. When he hears that I have come back he will be afraid. He knows that I can expose him most thoroughly. He is quite capable of trying to put an end to my mother's life to-night. And that is what your sister meant."

"Don't forget her warning. Don't go alone," said Vivian.

"You'll come with me, Percival," said Brian. "And you, Fane."

"If Fane and Percival go, you must let me go, too," remarked Vivian, but Brian shook his head, and Elizabeth interposed.

"Will you stay with us, Mr. Vivian? Do not leave Mr. Colquhoun and me alone."

"I'll not be left behind," said Mr. Colquhoun, smartly; "you may depend upon that, Mrs. Brian. You and Mr. Vivian must take care of my wife; but I shall go, because it strikes me that I shall be needed. Four of us, that'll fill the brougham. And we'll put the constable, Macpherson, on the box."

"I must resign myself to be useless," said Vivian, with a smile which had some pain in it.

"Useless, my dear fellow? We should never have been warned but for you," answered Brian, giving him a warm grasp of the hand before he hurried off.

In a very short time the carriage was ready. The gentlemen had hastily swallowed some refreshment, and were eager to start. Brian turned back for a moment to bid his wife farewell, and received a whispered caution with the kiss that she pressed upon his face.

"Spare Kitty as much as you can, love. And take care of your dear self"

Then they set out for Netherglen.

The drive was almost a silent one. Each member of the party was more or less absorbed in his own thoughts, and Brian's face wore a look of stern determination which seemed to impose quietude upon the others. It was he who took command of the expedition, as naturally as Percival had taken command of the sailors upon the Rocas Reef.

"We will not drive up to the house," he said, as they came in sight of the white gates of Netherglen. "We should only be refused admittance. I have told the driver where to stop."

"It's a blustering night," said Mr. Colquhoun.

"All the better for us," replied Brian. "We are not so likely to be overheard."

"Why, you don't think that they would keep us out, do you, Brian, my lad? Hugo hasn't the right to do that, you know. He's never said me nay to my face as yet."

"Depend upon it, he won't show," said Percival, contemptuously. "He'll pretend to be asleep, or away from home, or something of the sort."

"I am sure that he will try to keep us out, if he can," said Brian, "and, therefore, I am not going to give him the chance. I think I can get into the house by a side door."

The carriage had drawn up in the shade of some overhanging beech trees whilst they were speaking. The four men got out, and stood for a moment in the road. The night was a rough one, as Mr. Colquhoun had said; the wind blew in fierce but fitful gusts; the sky was covered with heavy, scurrying clouds.

Every now and then the wind sent a great dash of rain into their faces, it seemed as if a tempest were preparing, and the elements were about to be let loose.

"We are like thieves," said Heron, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't care for this style of work. I should walk boldly up to the door and give a thundering peal with the knocker."

"You don't know Hugo as well as I do," responded Brian.

"Thank Heaven, no. Are you armed, Fane?"

"I've got a stick," said Fane, with gusto.

"And I've got a revolver. Now for the fray."

"We shall not want arms of that kind," said Brian. "If you are ready, please follow me."

He led the way through the gates and down the drive, then turned off at right angles and pursued his way along a narrow path, across which the wet laurels almost touched, and had to be pushed back. They reached at last the side entrance of which Brian had spoken. He tried the handle, and gently shook the door; but it did not move. He tried it a second time—with no result.

"Locked!" said Percival, significantly.

"That does not matter," responded Brian. "Look here; but do not speak."

He felt in the darkness for one of the panels of the door. Evidently he knew that there was some hidden spring. The panel suddenly flew back, leaving a space of two feet square, through which it was easy for Brian to insert his hand and arm, draw back a bolt, and turn the key which had been left in the lock. It was a door which he and Richard had known of old. They had kept the secret, however, to themselves; and it was possible that Hugo had never learned it. Even Mr. Colquhoun uttered a faint inarticulate murmur of surprise.

The door was open before them, but they were still standing outside in the wet shrubbery, their feet on the damp grass, the evergreens trickling water in their faces, when an unexpected sound fell upon their ears.

Somewhere, in another part of the building—probably in the front of the house—one of the upper windows was thrown violently open. Then a woman's voice, raised in shrill tones of fear or pain, rang out between the fitful gusts of wind and rain.

"Help! Help! Help!"

There was no time to lose. The four men threw caution to the winds, and dashed headlong into the winding passages of the dark old house.

When Rupert Vivian drove away from Netherglen, Kitty stood for some time in the lane where they had been walking, and gazed after him with painful, anxious interest. The dog-cart was well out of sight before she turned, with a heavy sigh, preparing herself to walk back to the house. And then, for the first time, she became aware that her husband was standing at some little distance from her, and was coolly watching her, with folded arms and an evil smile upon his face.

"I have been wondering how long you meant to stand there, watching Vivian drive away," he said, advancing slowly to meet her. "Did you ask him about his wife?"

Kitty thought of her conversation with Rupert at Strathleckie—a conversation of which she had kept Hugo in ignorance—and coloured vividly.

"His wife is dead," she said, in a smothered tone.

"Oh, then, you did ask him?" said Hugo, looking at her. "Is that what he came to tell you?"

Kitty did not reply. She had thrown a shawl over her head before coming out, and she stood drawing the edges of it closer across her bosom with nervous, twitching fingers and averted face.

"Why did you come out in that way?" queried her husband. "You look like a madwoman in that shawl. You looked more like one than ever when you ran after that dog-cart, waving your hands for Vivian to stop. He did not want to see you or to be forced into an interview."

"Then you have been watching me?"

"I always watch you. Women are such fools that they require watching. What did you want to speak to Vivian about?"

"I will not tell you," said Kitty, suddenly growing pale.

"Then it is something that you ought not to have said. I understand your ways by this time. Come here, close to me." She came like a frightened child. "Look at me, kiss me." She obeyed, after some faint show of reluctance. He put his arm round her and kissed her several times, on cheek and brow and lips. "You don't like that," he said, releasing her at last with a smile. "That is why I do it. You are mine now, remember, not Vivian's. Now tell me what you said to him."

"Never!" said Kitty, with a gasp.

A change passed over Hugo's face.

"Who is with Vivian and your brother?" he demanded "Has Brian Luttrell come back?"

But he could not make her answer him. His hand was no longer on her arm, and with a desperate effort of will, she fled with sudden swiftness from him towards the house. He stood and watched her, with a look of sullen anger darkening his face. "She is not to be trusted," he muttered to himself. "I must finish my work to-night."