humorous incredulity, yet at
heart he was sorely troubled.

If his young wife's remarkable friendship with the man Flockart often
caused him bitter thoughts, then the mysterious Whispers and the
fatality so strangely connected with them were equally a source of
constant inquietude.

A few days later Flockart, with clever cunning, seemed to alter his
ingenious tactics completely, for suddenly he had commenced to bestir
himself in Sir Henry's interests. One morning after breakfast, taking
the Baronet by the arm, he led him for a stroll along the drive, down to
the lodge-gates, and back, for the purpose, as he explained, of speaking
with him in confidence.

At first the blind man was full of curiosity as to the reason of this
unusual action, as those deprived of sight usually are.

"I know, Sir Henry," Flockart said presently, and not without
hesitation, "that certain ill-disposed people have endeavoured to place
an entirely wrong construction upon your wife's friendship towards me.
For that reason I have decided to leave Glencardine, both for her sake
and for yours."

"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed the blind man, "why do you suggest such
a thing?"

"Because your wife's enemies have their mouths full of scandalous lies,"
he replied. "I tell you frankly, Sir Henry, that my friendship with her
ladyship is a purely platonic one. We were children together, at home in
Bedford, and ever since our schooldays I have remained her friend."

"I know that," remarked the old man quietly. "My wife told me that when
you dined with us on several occasions at Park Street. I have never
objected to the friendship existing between you, Flockart; for, though I
have never seen you, I have always believed you to be a man of honour."

"I feel very much gratified at those words, Sir Henry," he said in a
deep, earnest voice, glancing at the grey, dark-spectacled face of the
fragile man whose arm he was holding. "Indeed, I've always hoped that
you would repose sufficient confidence in me to know that I am not such
a blackguard as to take any advantage of your cruel affliction."

The blind Baronet sighed. "Ah, my dear Flockart! all men are not
honourable like yourself. There are many ready to take advantage of my
lack of eyesight. I have experienced it, alas! in business as well as in
my private life."

The dark-faced man was silent. He was playing an ingenious, if
dangerous, game. The Baronet had referred to business--his mysterious
b