me yet--and that he will let out something more
next time. So much for our chance of seeing the light through Mr.
Delamayn--if we can't see it in any other way. And that is not our only
chance, remember. I have something to tell you about Bishopriggs and the
lost letter."

"Is it found?"

"No. I satisfied myself about that--I had it searched for, under my own
eye. The letter is stolen, Blanche; and Bishopriggs has got it. I have
left a line for him, in Mrs. Inchbare's care. The old rascal is missed
already by the visitors at the inn, just as I told you he would be. His
mistress is feeling the penalty of having been fool enough to vent her
ill temper on her head-waiter. She lays the whole blame of the quarrel
on Miss Silvester, of course. Bishopriggs neglected every body at
the inn to wait on Miss Silvester. Bishopriggs was insolent on being
remonstrated with, and Miss Silvester encouraged him--and so on. The
result will be--now Miss Silvester has gone--that Bishopriggs will
return to Craig Fernie before the autumn is over. We are sailing with
wind and tide, my dear. Come, and learn to play whist."

He rose to join the card-players. Blanche detained him.

"You haven't told me one thing yet," she said. "Whoever the man may be,
is Anne married to him?"

"Whoever the man may be," returned Sir Patrick, "he had better not
attempt to marry any body else."

So the niece unconsciously put the question, and so the uncle
unconsciously gave the answer on which depended the whole happiness of
Blanche's life to come, The "man!" How lightly they both talked of the
"man!" Would nothing happen to rouse the faintest suspicion--in their
minds or in Arnold's mind--that Arnold was the "man" himself?

"You mean that she _is_ married?" said Blanche.

"I don't go as far as that."

"You mean that she is _not_ married?"

"I don't go so far as _that._"

"Oh! the law!"

"Provoking, isn't it, my dear? I can tell you, professionally, that (in
my opinion) she has grounds to go on if she claims to be the man's wife.
That is what I meant by my answer; and, until we know more, that is all
I can say."

"When shall we know more? When shall we get the telegram?"

"Not for some hours yet. Come, and learn to play whist."

"I think I would rather talk to Arnold, uncle, if you don't mind."

"By all means! But don't talk to him about what I have been telling you
to-night. He and Mr. Delamayn are old associates, remember; and he might
blund