;
"send my husband to me."

She turned her face aside, and Leonore, like Paul, cried within herself,
"_She knows_".

CHAPTER XVIII.

"A TURN OF THE WHEEL."

"Hoots, it's in the blood," said Dr. Craig, briefly.

An old friend had come to visit him, and started the topic which had
ceased to be a nine days' wonder in the neighbourhood.

"There's a wild strain in the Bolderos somewhere," continued the doctor,
crossing his legs, and settling down for a chat. "Those lassies have had
a gay lady among their forebears at some time or other, for they didn't
get their pranks from old Brown-boots. To do Brown-boots justice, he was
respectable--I'm thinking it was his one virtue. Proud as Lucifer, and
vain as a peacock--they say you can't be both, but he _was_--and so was
Maud--and it was just her vanity that got the whip hand of her pride at
the last. It must have been," musing; "nothing else could account for
her throwing over a nice fellow like Foster, and a good match too, for
poor loony Val without a sixpence. She didn't know he hadn't a sixpence,
mind you; she meant to come back and queen it at Claymount,--where I
doubt not she would soon have ruled the roost, if she hadn't had the
ill-luck to kill the old lady instead. She wanted to show she had two
strings to her bow, d'ye see?" He smoked and nodded, then started
afresh:--

"Aye, aye, and there was Leonore--Leonore Stubbs--the widow. Her that
played the mischief with that poor lad of mine, Tommy Andrews, and lost
me the best assistant I ever had. I tried to get Tommy back after the
Bolderos left, but no; he scunnered the place; she had just eaten the
heart out of him, Leonore had. My word, she was a jaunty bit creature. I
fair weakened to her myself, when she would stand by the road-side
looking up at me in the gig, with those big, laughing eyes of hers--and
her wee bit moothie, it was the prettiest bit thing--though mind you, I
ran her down to Tommy. Poor Tommy!"

"He wouldn't take a telling," resumed the speaker, after a pause. "They
never will, you know--those dour, close, machine-like lads; they'll make
no resistance; they'll let you talk and talk and think you've convinced
them--and it just rolls like water off a duck's back. Tommy garred me
believe it was all over and done with. He went about his work, and kept
out of little pussycat's way, and then, phew! all at once the murder
was out! It was simply bottled up; and one fine day--I don't know what
h