grass.

"Hallo, Dorise!" cried a voice. "No luck, eh?"

Sherrard had returned and had witnessed her outbreak of impatience.

"None!" she snapped, for the loss of her fly annoyed her. She knew that
she had been careless, because under old Murray's careful tuition she
had become quite expert with the rod, both with trout and salmon.

"Never mind," he said, "I've had similar luck. I've just got hooked up
in a root and lost a fly. Let's have lunch--shall we?"

Dorise was in no mood to lunch with her mother's visitor, but,
nevertheless, was compelled to be polite.

After washing their hands in the stream, they sat down together upon
a great, grey boulder that had been worn smooth by the action of the
water, and, taking out their sandwiches, began to eat them.

"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Sherrard suddenly, after they had been gossiping
for some time. "Have you heard from your friend Henfrey lately?"

"Not lately," replied the girl, a trifle resentful that he should
obtrude upon her private affairs.

"I only ask because--well, because there are some jolly queer stories
going about town of him."

"Queer stories!" she echoed quickly. "What are they? What do people
say?"

"Oh! They say lots of extraordinary things. I think your mother has done
very well to drop him."

"Has mother dropped him?" asked the girl in pretence of ignorance.

"She told me so last night, and I was extremely glad to hear it--though
he is your friend. It seems that he's hardly the kind of fellow you
should know, Dorise."

"Why do you say that?" his companion asked, her eyes flashing instantly.

"What! Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"The story that's going round the clubs. He's missing, and has been so
for quite a long time. You haven't seen him--have you?"

The girl was compelled to reply in the negative.

"But what do they say against him?" she demanded breathlessly.

"There's a lot of funny stories," was Sherrard's reply. "They say he's
hiding from the police because he attempted to murder a notorious woman
called Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. Do you know about it?"

"It's a wicked lie!" blurted forth the girl. "Hugh never attempted to
kill the woman!"

Sherrard looked straight into her blue eyes, and asked:

"Then why was he in her room at midnight? They say the reason Henfrey
is hard-up is because he spent all he possessed upon the woman, and on
going there that night she laughed him to scorn and told him she had
grown fond