ou can."

XXVI

AT STANESLAND

Mr. Carrington's interview with the laird of Stanesland began on much
the same lines as his talk with Bisset. The amiable visitor was shown
into the laird's smoking room--an apartment with vast walls like a
dungeon and on them trophies from the laird's adventurous days, and
proceeded to make enquiry whether Mr. Cromarty was disposed to let his
shootings for next season, or, if not, whether he could recommend any
others.

As the visitor was in no hurry, he declared, to fix anything up, it was
very natural that this conversation, like the morning's, should
eventually turn on to the subject of the great local mystery. Through it
all Mr. Carrington's monocle was more continually fixed on the other
than usual, but if he were looking for peculiarities in the laird's
manner or any admissions made either by tongue or eye, he was
disappointed. Cromarty was as breezy and as direct as ever, but even
when his visitor confessed his extreme interest in such cases of
remarkable crime, he (to all seeming) scented nothing in this beyond a
not uncommon hobby. There was no doubt, however, of his keenness to
discuss the subject. Carrington gave him an entertaining account of his
efforts to assist Mr. Bisset, and then Ned asked:

"Well, what do you think of his theory that the man came in by the
window?"

Carrington smiled.

"Bisset is evidently extremely anxious to save the credit of the
family."

Ned Cromarty was aroused now.

"Good God!" he cried. "But do you mean to say that you think that story
will hold water?"

"What story?" enquired Carrington mildly.

"You know what I mean--the scandal that Sir Malcolm and--and a lady were
concerned in the murder."

"They are said to have actually committed it, aren't they?"

Ned's eye began to look dangerous.

"Do you think it's credible?" he asked brusquely.

"You know them better than I. Do you think it is?"

"Not for an instant!"

"I haven't met Sir Malcolm," said Carrington, wiping his eyeglass on his
handkerchief. "I can't judge of him. What sort of a fellow is he?"

"A bit of a young squirt," said Ned candidly. "But I'll not believe he's
a murderer till I get some proof of it."

"And Miss Farmond? Is she at all a murderous lady?"

He fixed his monocle in his eye just in time to see his host control
himself after what seemed to have been a somewhat violent spasm.

"I'll stake my life on her innocence!" said Ned, and it was ha