ave no alarm; seems to me those
have something to them. But what they mean--what to conclude; we're as
far off that, Bisset, as ever!"

The philosopher's self esteem was evidently returning as fast as it had
gone.

"Then you wouldn't think there would be any harm, sir, in my continuing
my investigations?"

"On your present lines, the only harm is likely to be to yourself. Keep
at it--but don't hang yourself accidentally. And let me know if you
discover anything else--mind that."

"I'll mind on it, no fears, Mr. Cromarty!"

Ned left him with an expression on his countenance which indicated that
the deductive process had already been resumed.

Till he arrived at his own door, the laird of Stanesland was unconscious
of a single incident of his drive home. All the way his eye stared
straight into space. Sometimes a gleam would light it for an instant,
and then he would shake his head and the gleam would fade away.

"I can see neither a damned head nor a damned tail to it!" he said to
himself as he alighted.

XIV

THE QUESTION OF MOTIVE

Two days later Mr. Ison entered Mr. Simon Rattar's room and informed him
that Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland wished to see him on particular
business. The lawyer was busy and this interruption seemed for the
moment distinctly unwelcome. Then he grunted:

"Show him in."

In the minute or two that passed before the laird's entrance, Simon
seemed to be thinking intently and finally to come to a decision, which,
to judge from his reception of his client, was on rather different lines
from his first thoughts when Mr. Cromarty's name was announced. To
describe Simon Rattar at any time as genial would be an exaggeration,
but he showed his nearest approach to geniality as he bade his client
good-morning.

"Sorry to interrupt you," said Ned, "but I can't get this business out
of my head, night or day. Whether you want me or not, I've got to play a
hand in this game; but it's on your side, Mr. Rattar, and maybe I might
be able to help a little if I could get something to go on."

The lawyer nodded.

"I quite understand. Glad to have your help, Mr. Cromarty. Dreadful
affair. We're all trying to get to the bottom of it, I can assure you."

"I believe you," said Ned. "There never was a man better worth avenging
than Sir Reginald."

"Quite so," said Simon briefly, his eyes fixed on the other's face.

"Any fresh facts?"

Simon drew a sheet of paper from his desk.

"Superinte