e vociferated at the
ball-room door, but never the name my nerves were on the strain to echo.
Surely Flora would come: surely none of her guardians, natural or
officious, would expect to find me at the ball. But the minutes passed,
and I must convey Mrs. and Miss McBean back to their seats beneath the
gallery.

"Miss Gilchrist--Miss Flora Gilchrist--Mr. Ronald Gilchrist! Mr. Robbie!
Major Arthur Chevenix!"

The first name plumped like a shot across my bows, and brought me up
standing--for a second only. Before the catalogue was out I had dropped
the McBeans at their moorings, and was heading down on my enemies' line
of battle. Their faces were a picture. Flora's cheek flushed, and her
lips parted in the prettiest cry of wonder. Mr. Robbie took snuff.
Ronald went red in the face, and Major Chevenix white. The intrepid Miss
Gilchrist turned not a hair.

"What will be the meaning of this?" she demanded, drawing to a stand,
and surveying me through her gold-rimmed eye-glass.

"Madam," said I, with a glance at Chevenix, "you may call it a
cutting-out expedition."

"Miss Gilchrist," he began, "you will surely not--"

But I was too quick for him.

"Madam, since when has the gallant Major superseded Mr. Robbie as your
family adviser?"

"H'mph!" said Miss Gilchrist; which in itself was not reassuring. But
she turned to the lawyer.

"My dear lady," he answered her look, "this very imprudent young man
seems to have burnt his boats, and no doubt recks very little if, in
that heroical conflagration, he burns our fingers. Speaking, however, as
your family adviser"--and he laid enough stress on it to convince me
that there was no love lost between him and the interloping Chevenix--"I
suggest that we gain nothing by protracting this scene in the face of a
crowded assembly. Are you for the card-room, madam?"

She took his proffered arm, and they swept from us, leaving Master
Ronald red and glum, and the Major pale but nonplussed.

"Four from six leaves two," said I; and promptly engaged Flora's arm,
and towed her away from the silenced batteries.

"And now, my dear," I added, as we found two isolated chairs, "you will
kindly demean yourself as if we were met for the first or second time in
our lives. Open your fan--so. Now listen: my cousin, Alain, is in
Edinburgh, at Dumbreck's Hotel. No, don't lower it."

She held up her fan, though her small wrist trembled.

"There is worse to come. He has brought Bow Street with hi