ere you do not hear from the West."

The other fingered his wine-glass. "Well, I haven't heard myself, for
quite a while.... You would think that he might come back to England
now. But he can't. Doubtless he would never wish to come again to
Black Hill. But England, now.... But they are ferocious yet against
every head great and small of the attempt. And I am told there are
aggravating circumstances. He had worn the King's coat. He was among
the plotters and instigators. He broke prison. Impossible to show
mercy!" Mr. Touris twitched again. "That's a phrase like a gravestone!
If the Almighty uses it, then of course he can't be Almighty.... Well,
the moral is that none named Ian Rullock can come again to Scotland or
England."

"Have you knowledge that he wishes to do so?"

Mr. Touris moved again. "I don't know.... I told you that we hadn't
heard. But--"

He stopped and sat staring into his wine-glass. Alexander read on as
by starlight: "_But I did hear--through old channels. And there is
danger of his trying to return._"

The master of Black Hill put the wine to his lips. "And so you have
been everywhere?"

"No. But in places where I had not been before."

"The East India has ways of gathering information. Through Goodworth I
can get at a good deal when I want to.... There is Wotherspoon, also.
I am practically certain that Ian is in France."

"When did he write?"

"Alison has a letter maybe twice a year. One's overdue now."

"How does he write?"

"They are very short. He doesn't touch on old things--except, perhaps,
back into boyhood. She likes to get them. When you see her, don't
speak of anything save his staying in France, as he ought to." He
dragged toward him a jar of snuff. "There are informers and seekers
out everywhere. Do you remember a man in Edinburgh named Gleig?"

"Yes."

"Well, he's one of them. And for some reason he has a personal enmity
toward Ian. So, you see--"

He lapsed into silence, a small, aging, chilly, wrinkled, troubled
man. Then with suddenness a wintry red crept into his cheek, a
brightness into his eyes. "You've changed so, Glenfernie, you've
cheated me! You are his foe yourself. Perhaps even--"

"Perhaps even--?"

The other gave a shriveled response to the smile. "No. I certainly did
not mean that." He took his head in his hands and sighed. "What a
world it is! As I go down the hill I wish sometimes that I had
Alison's eyes.... Well, tell me about yourself."

"The o