he first flash of
lightning that followed just afterwards. It had been a matter of
astonishment to me all day long that nobody, with the exception of the
one man at East Ord, had noticed Maisie as she went along the road
between Berwick and Mindrum on the previous evening--now I remembered,
blaming myself for not having remembered it before, that there was a
short cut, over a certain right-of-way, through the grounds of
Hathercleugh House, which would save her a good three miles in her
journey. She would naturally be anxious to get to her aunt as quickly as
possible; she would think of the nearest way--she would take it. And now
I began to understand the whole thing: Maisie had gone into the grounds
of Hathercleugh, and--she had never left them!

The realization made me sick with fear. The idea of my girl being trapped
by such a villain as I firmly believed the man whom we knew as Sir
Gilbert Carstairs to be was enough to shake every nerve in my body; but
to think that she had been in his power for twenty-four hours, alone,
defenceless, brought on me a faintness that was almost beyond sustaining.
I felt physically and mentally ill--weak. And yet, God knows! there never
was so much as a thought of defeat in me. What I felt was that I must get
there, and make some effort that would bring the suspense to an end for
both of us. I was beginning to see how things might be--passing through
those grounds she might have chanced on something, or somebody, or Sir
Gilbert himself, who, naturally, would not let anybody escape him that
could tell anything of his whereabouts. But if he was at Hathercleugh,
what of the tale which Hollins had told us the night before?--nay, that
very morning, for it was after midnight when he sat there in Mr.
Lindsey's parlour. And, suddenly, another idea flashed across me--Was
that tale true, or was the man telling us a pack of lies, all for some
end? Against that last notion there was, of course, the torn scrap of
letter to be set; but--but supposing that was all part of a plot, meant
to deceive us while these villains--taking Hollins to be in at the other
man's game--got clear away in some totally different direction? If it
was, then it had been successful, for we had taken the bait, and all
attention was being directed on Glasgow, and none elsewhere, and--as far
as I knew--certainly none at Hathercleugh itself, whither nobody expected
Sir Gilbert to come back.

But these were all speculations--the