obite
interests, shuttle sent from conspirers in France to chiefs in
Scotland, on the eve of a departure in disguise, he had broken old
nest and old relations, and was now as a stranger in a city that he
knew well, and where by not a few he was known. The room that he
turned into had little sign of old, well-liked occupancy; the servant
who at his call entered from a smaller chamber was not the man to whom
he was used, but a Highlander sent him by a Gordon then in Paris.

"I am back, Donal!" said Ian, and threw himself into a chair by the
table. "Come, give an account of your errands!"

Donal, middle-aged, faithful, dour and sagacious, and years away from
loch and mountain, gave account. Horses, weapons, clothing, all
correct for Dr. Robert Bonshaw and his servant, riding under high
protection from Paris to Dunkirk, where a well-captained
merchant-vessel stayed for them in port. Ian nodded approval.

"I'm indebted, Donal, to my cousin Gordon!"

Donal let a smile come to within a league of the surface. "Her
ainself has a wish to hear the eagle scream over Ben Nevis!"

Rullock's hand moved over a paper, checking a row of figures. "Did you
manage to get into my old lodging?"

"Aye. None there. All dusty and bare. But the woman who had the key
gave me--since I said I might make a guess where to find you,
sir--these letters. They came, she said, two weeks ago." Donal laid
them upon the table.

"Ah!" said Ian, "they must have gotten through before I shut off the
old passageway." He took them in his hand. "There's nothing more now,
Donal. Go out for your dinner."

The man went. Ian added another column of figures, then took the
letters and with them moved to a window through which streamed the sun
of France. The floor was patched with gold; there was warmth as well
as light. He pushed a chair into it, sat down, and opened first the
packet that he knew had come from his uncle. He broke the seal and
read two pages of Mr. Touris in a mood of anger. There were rumors--.
True it was that Ian had now his own fortune, had it at least until he
lost it and his life together in some mad, unlawful business! But let
him not look longer to be heir of Archibald Touris! Withdraw at once
from ill company, political or other, and return to Scotland, or at
least to England, or take the consequences! The letter bore date the
first week of December. It had been long in passing from hand to hand
in a troubled, warring world. Ian Rullock,