At length, by finesse and a good deal of circumlocution, I got the conversation worked round from accidental shooting to accidental meetings, related one or two coincidences which made him pause in his work, and then casually mentioned that Betty had told me of his meeting Miss Stuart, and the shock he had received.

'Yes, Mr Russell,' he said, 'I don't know what to say about that. I couldn't get to sleep last night for thinking of it.'

'Well, Joe, it seems plain enough to me. The lady you knew died twenty-four years ago. Miss Stuart is not more than twenty-five, so it couldn't possibly be she whom you knew.'

'That is so, sir; I admit that,' and he stopped polishing; 'and it's a far cry from Thornhill to Toledo; but the Miss Stuart I saw last night was wearing a locket which I am sure belonged to a Mrs Stuart who died in Toledo twenty-four years ago. If I'm wrong, then, sir, my name is not Joseph Hebron.'

I was positively tingling with excitement, and strangely conscious I was on the eve of a great discovery. A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind; I felt quite overcome and bewildered. Here, 'far from the madding crowd,' in this sleepy little village with its easy-going, unpretentious ways, I had met the woman God made for me; and there, polishing the barrel of my grandsire's old pistol, stood one of the least important of its villagers, who of a surety held the key to all the mysteries that had baffled our unveiling. It seemed unreal, incredible, impossible, yet it was absolutely true, for clutched to my heart I held the sacred memory of our moonlight talk, I felt the touch of her hand, and her parting words were ever ringing in my ears; and Joe's earnestness and assurance were as a presage to me that the mists would soon be rolled away. Betty's words came to me, 'If it's ocht ye want to ken, ye maunna ask him questions;' but I felt I must put her advice aside. Questions must be asked, and answers must be given willingly, not dragged out; and if I was to obtain these answers Joe must be to some extent taken into my confidence.

'Joe,' I said, 'you speak with a positiveness which carries conviction with it, and encourages me to great expectations. Now I'll be honest and candid with you, and you must be frank with me and answer fully and truly one or two questions I wish to put to you. You admit that the remarkable likeness you see in Miss Stuart to a Mrs Stuart you knew long ago has disturbed your mind, and you are quite convinced that the locket Miss Stuart wears belonged to that lady. There is a probable connection here which, if it can be established, will mean much to Miss Stuart. Her affairs are in my hands, and naturally I am very much interested in this. Now, Joe, you don't know me. Betty does. Will you take her word as surety for my honourableness, and tell me frankly all I may ask?'

Joe looked very intently at me while I was speaking. Then he laid down the pistol and emery-cloth with a suddenness and determination which plainly told me that his yea would be yea, and his nay, nay. 'Mr Russell,' he said earnestly, 'I have always sworn by Nathan's Betty; she swears by you in everything. If any information I can give will be of service to Miss Stuart you're welcome to it, and I'll answer truthfully whatever you ask.'

'Thank you, Joe. I know you will. Well, first of all, who was Mrs Stuart?'

'She was the wife of Major Stuart of my old regiment, the 25th.'

'Do you remember his full name?'

'Yes, sir. It was Major Sommerville Stuart of Abereran, Perthshire.'

'Where did they live together as husband and wife?'

'Well, sir, it was like this. You see—eh—well, perhaps I had better tell you what I know in my own way—some pointed questions are not easily answered.'

I nodded. 'All right, Joe; just as you wish,' I replied.

'Well, we were stationed at Gibraltar when the Major was married. I was his orderly at the time, and he took me with him to a town called Toledo, where the marriage took place. I saw the lady—a French lady she was—only once before she was Mrs Stuart; she and the Major were on horseback, and a fine-looking pair they were; and I saw her twice after they came back to Toledo from their honeymoon. She was then wearing the locket I saw last night. It was one of the marriage presents he gave her, and I remember seeing it on his dressing-room table in the hotel, and thinking he was lucky to be able to buy such a nice gift. I was courting at that time—not Sally; another girl who died—and I—well, I would have given a whole year's pay to be able to buy my girl one like it. That's how I remember it so well. The Major stayed in Toledo for about a week after his honeymoon trip, and then he went to headquarters, taking me with him of course; but Mrs Stuart remained at Toledo. She never came down to Gib. that I know of, but the Major went back once or twice. Then about a year after their marriage she died. The Major got the sad news at mess, and left that night, and I followed next day with his luggage. We returned the day after the funeral, and—and that's all I know, I think.' Then he picked up his emery-cloth and resumed his polishing, as if the story he had told was of ordinary import.

'Joe,' I said after a pause, 'what you have told me is most valuable information, and I thank you very much indeed. Were you present at the marriage ceremony?'

'Yes, sir, as a spectator, of course. I had nothing particular to do, and was in a strange town, and I was anxious to see what a foreign marriage was like.'

'Naturally! Then the marriage was in a church in Toledo?'

'Yes, sir; but I don't remember the name of the church.'

'Ah, Joe, that's a pity, now. Could you describe it to me? I know Toledo, and might be able to refresh your memory.'

'Well, sir, it was a very old-looking place, built of brick, and one part was newer-looking than the other. There's a big bridge at the entrance to the town——'

'Yes, Joe, the Bridge of Alcantara.'

'That's the name, sir. Well, I think I could go from the bridge right up to the church even yet. If I had a piece of paper and a pencil I could show you.'

I readily supplied him with pencil and paper, and after a little cogitation and a good deal of muttering, 'Forward, right turn, left wheel, steady now, forward,' he handed me the diagram of what he judged was the route. As it wasn't drawn to a scale, and no streets were noted, it was quite unintelligible to me; but it proved Joe had it in his mind's eye, and so far this was quite satisfactory. 'Thank you, Joe,' I said. 'May I keep this?'

He nodded, and I put it in my pocket. 'Now, just two questions more. Was Mrs Stuart buried in Toledo?'

'No, sir. She lies in a cemetery a few miles out of Toledo.'

'You don't remember the name of the place?'

'Well, sir, I do—sometimes. It reminded me, when I heard it first, of the old home-name of Dalgonnar, but it wasn't that—very near it, though.'

'Dalgonnar—Dal——Ah, Joe, was it not Algodor?'

'That's the name, sir—Algodor. I see you've been there. Well, sir, Mrs Stuart's buried at Algodor.'

Unknown to Joe, I had taken shorthand notes of the gist of his information, and when he was again busy with his emery I went over them carefully. 'By the way, Joe,' I asked, 'did you ever hear anything about the birth of a child?'

'Yes, sir. Mrs Stuart died in childbed, but the child lived. I don't remember hearing whether it was a boy or a girl. Mr Trent, our chaplain, could tell you about that. He went up with the Major and baptised it.'

'And where and how can Mr Trent be found now?'

'Well, sir—strange—last time I came up from Brighton I had an hour to wait at Carlisle, and I met him in the street when I was taking a stroll between trains. He's not changed much, and I knew him at once and saluted. He stopped me, and asked me my name and regiment, said he was in a hurry, but that he lived at Stanwix, and if at any time I was in the locality to be sure and call on him.'

'Joe,' I said, 'you're a brick, a most invaluable friend to me just now, and I cannot tell you how much all this means to Miss Stuart and to me. There is much yet of which we shall require proof; but it is a fact, Joe, that Major Sommerville Stuart of Abereran, your Major, was her father. It may be necessary, in fact it will be imperative, that we should send some one out to Toledo. I know it is asking a good deal, but would you accompany any one we may depute to go? Your presence is very essential, and your good service will be amply remunerated.'

'Well, Mr Russell, I'm not of much use here, and I'll not be wanted elsewhere till July. If I can be any good to you, I—I don't mind going. In a way, I'll be in the Major's service again.'

I never drink whisky during the day; but somehow I felt that a compact such as Joe and I had made was sufficient excuse for breaking any rule. We drank success to our undertaking, and when Joe had left me I sat down, and, after thinking things over, I came to the conclusion that Providence, in a most wonderful way, was making the crooked path straight; and that, with the exception of Nathan, Joe had the most extraordinary by-nature of any man I ever knew.

I stayed Betty's hand when she came in to light up for the night. I knew she was just dying to know how I had got on with Joe; and, as his story would be meaningless without the prologue, I told her everything. The flickering firelight fell on her dear old face, and the glint in her eye quickened as I unfolded my love-story. And when I had finished she came over, and, bending down, kissed me.

'The Lord's your shepherd. He's leadin' ye by the still waters,' she whispered. 'An', oh, Maister Weelum, Joseph Hebron's a prood, prood man this nicht.'