(in the old Scottish fashion) the main
part of his property to Logan, _inter vivos_, and then to live long
enough to evade the death-duties. Merton and Logan knew well enough the
unsoundness of any such proceedings, especially considering the mental
debility of the old gentleman. However, the papers were made out. The
marquis retired to one of his English seats, after which event his
reappearance was made known to the world. In his English home Logan
sedulously nursed him. A more generous diet than he had ever known
before did wonders for the marquis, though he peevishly remonstrated
against every bottle of wine that was uncorked. He did live for the span
which he deemed necessary for his patriotic purpose, and peacefully
expired, his last words being 'Nae grand funeral.'

Public curiosity, of course, was keenly excited about the mysterious
reappearance of the marquis in life. But the interviewers could extract
nothing from Mrs. Bower, and Logan declined to be interviewed. To
paragraphists the mystery of the marquis was 'a two months' feast,' like
the case of Elizabeth Canning, long ago.

Logan inherited under the marquis's original will, and, of course, the
Exchequer benefitted in the way which Lord Restalrig had tried to
frustrate.

Miss Markham (whose father is now the distinguished head of the
ethnological department in an American museum) did not persist in her
determination never to see Logan again. The beautiful Lady Fastcastle
never allows her photograph to appear in the illustrated weekly papers.
Logan, or rather Fastcastle, does not unto this day, know the secret of
the Emu's feathers, though, later, he sorely tried the secretiveness of
Merton, as shall be shown in the following narrative.

XII. ADVENTURE OF THE CANADIAN HEIRESS

I. At Castle Skrae

'How vain a thing is wealth,' said Merton. 'How little it can give of
what we really desire, while of all that is lost and longed for it can
restore nothing--except churches--and to do _that_ ought to be made a
capital offence.'

'Why do you contemplate life as a whole, Mr. Merton? Why are you so
moral? If you think it is amusing you are very much mistaken! Isn't the
scenery, isn't the weather, beautiful enough for you? _I_ could gaze for
ever at the "unquiet bright Atlantic plain," the rocky isles, those
cliffs of basalt on either hand, while I listened to the crystal stream
that slips into the sea, and waves the yellow fringes of