“But—” she exclaimed, “Mr. Rattar said you suspected Malcolm and me and were determined to prove our guilt!”
“Simon Rattar said that!”
There was something so menacing in his voice that Cicely involuntarily shrank back.
“Do you mean to tell me, honour bright, that Simon Rattar told you that lie in so many words?”
“Yes,” she said, “he did indeed. And he said that this Mr. Carrington was a very clever man and was almost certain to trump up a very strong case against us, and so he advised me to go away.”
He seemed almost incapable of speech at this.
“He actually advised you to bolt?”
She nodded.
“To slip away quietly to London and stay in an hotel he recommended till I heard from him. He said you had sworn to track down the criminals and hang them with your own hands, and so when I saw you suddenly come up behind me in that dark road tonight—oh, you’ve no idea how terrified I was! Mr. Rattar had frightened away all the nerve I ever had, and then when I thought I was safely away, you suddenly came up behind me in that dark road!”
“You poor little—” he began, laying his hand upon hers, and then he remembered Sir Malcolm and altered his sentence into: “You know now that was all one infernal pack of lies, don’t you?”
Though he took away his hand, she had not moved her own, and she gave him now a look which richly rewarded him for his evening’s work.
“I believe every word you tell me,” she said.
“Well then,” said Ned, “I tell you that I got this fellow Carrington down to take up the case so that I could clear you in the first place and find the right man in the second. So as to give him an absolutely clear field, he wasn’t told who was employing him, and then he could suspect me myself if he wanted to. As a matter of fact, I rather think he has guessed who’s running him. Anyhow, yesterday afternoon he told me straight and emphatically that he knew you were innocent. So you’ve run away a day too late!”
She laughed at last, and then fell serious again.
“But what did Mr. Rattar mean by saying you had engaged the detective because you suspected Malcolm and me?”
“That’s precisely what I want to find out,” said Ned grimly. “He could guess easy enough who was employing Carrington, because I had suggested getting a detective, only Simon wouldn’t rise to it. But as to saying I suspected you, he knew that was a lie, and I can only suspect he’s getting a little tired of life!”
They talked on for a little longer, still sitting by the table, with her eyes now constantly smiling into his, until at last he had to remind himself so vigorously of the absent and lucky baronet that the pleasure began to ebb. And then they said good night and he was left staring into the fire.
Next morning they faced one another in a first class carriage on a homeward bound train.
“What shall I say to Lady Cromarty?” she asked, half smiling, half fearfully.
He reflected for a few minutes.
“Tell her the truth. Lies don’t pay in the long run. I can bear witness to this part of the story, and to the Carrington part if necessary, though I don’t want to give him away if I can help it.”
“Oh no!” she said, “we mustn’t interfere with him. But supposing Lady Cromarty doesn’t believe—”
“Come straight to Stanesland! Will you?”
“Run away again?”
“It’s the direction you run in that matters,” said he. “Now, mind you, that’s understood!”
She was silent for a little and then she said:
“I can’t understand why these horrible stories associate Malcolm and me. Why should we have conspired to do such a dreadful thing?”
He stared at her, and then hesitated.
“Because—well, being engaged to him—”
“Engaged to Malcolm!” she exclaimed. “Whatever put that into people’s heads?”
“What!” he cried. “Aren’t you?”
“Good gracious no! Was that the reason then?”
He seemed too lost in his own thoughts to answer her; but they were evidently not unhappy thoughts this time.
“Who can have started such a story?” she demanded.
“Who started it?” he repeated and then was immersed in thought again; only now there was a grim look on his face.
“Well anyhow,” he cried, in a minute or two, “we’re out of that wood! Aren’t we, Louisa?”
“Yes, Uncle Ned,” she smiled back.
He stirred impulsively in his seat and then seemed to check himself, and for the rest of the journey he appeared to be divided between content with the present hour and an impulse to improve upon it. And then before he had realised where they were, they had stopped at a station, and she was exclaiming:
“Oh, I must get out here! I’ve left my bike in the station!”
“Look here,” said he, with his hand on the door handle, “before you go you’ve got to swear that you’ll come straight to Stanesland if there’s another particle of trouble. Swear?”
“But what about Miss Cromarty?” she smiled.
“Miss Cromarty will say precisely the same as I do,” he said with a curiously significant emphasis. “So now, I don’t open this door till you promise!”
“I promise!” said she, and then she was standing on the platform waving a farewell.
“I half wish I’d risked it!” he said to himself with a sigh as the train moved on, and then he ruminated with an expression on his face that seemed to suggest a risk merely deferred.
XXIX
Brother and Sister
Ned Cromarty found his sister in her room.
“Well, Ned,” she asked, “where on earth have you been?”
He shut the door before he answered, and then came up to the fireplace, and planted himself in front of her.
“Who told you that Cicely Farmond was engaged to Malcolm Cromarty?” he demanded.
She made a little grimace of comic alarm, but her eye was apprehensive.
“Don’t eat my head off, Neddy! How can I remember?”
“You’ve got to remember,” said her brother grimly. “And you’d better be careful what
