f smothered little cry and shrank away from him. For a moment there
was dead silence and then he said, still quietly, though it cost him an
effort.

"I only mean to help you if you need a hand. Are you looking for the
hotel?"

"Yes," she said in a low frightened voice.

"Well," said he, "I guess you'd walk till morning before you reached an
hotel along this road. You missed the turning at the station. Give me
your bag. Come along!"

She let him take the suit case and she turned back with him, but it
struck him painfully that her docility was like that of a frightened
animal.

"Where are you bound for?" he enquired in his usual direct way.

She murmured something that he could not catch and then they fell
altogether silent till they had retraced their road to the station and
turned down towards a twinkling light or two which showed where the
village lay.

"Now, Miss Farmond," said he, "we are getting near this pub and as we've
both got to spend the night there, you'll please observe these few short
and simple rules. I'm your uncle--Uncle Ned. D'you see?"

There was no laugh, or even a smile from her. She gave a little start of
surprise and in a very confused voice murmured:

"Yes, I see."

"My full name is Mr. Ned Dawkins and you're Louisa Dawkins my niece.
Just call me 'Uncle Ned' and leave me to do the talking. We are touring
this beautiful country and I've lost my luggage owing to the derned
foolishness of the railroad officials here. And then when we've had a
little bit of dinner you can tell me, if you like, why you've eloped and
why you've got a down on me. Or if you don't like to, well, you needn't.
Ah, here's the pub at last."

He threw open the door and in a loud and cheerful voice cried:

"Well, here we are, Louisa. Walk right in, my dear!"

XXVIII

THE RETURN

His friends would scarcely have picked out Mr. Ned Cromarty of
Stanesland as likely to make a distinguished actor, but they might have
changed their opinion had they heard him breezily announce himself as
Mr. Dawkins from Liverpool and curse the Scottish railways which had
lost his luggage for him. It is true that the landlord looked at him a
trifle askance and that the landlady and her maid exchanged a knowing
smile when he ordered a room for his niece Louisa, but few people shut
up in a little country inn with such a formidable looking, loud voiced
giant, would have ventured to question his statements openly, and the
equani