gal's compelling presence, gave
the gamekeeper peremptory orders not to shoot till he was bidden, and
Carfrae at the kitchen door was warned to the same effect. The
shuttered house, where the only light apart from the garden-room was
the feeble spark of the electric torches, had the most disastrous
effect upon his spirits. The gale which roared in the chimney and
eddied among the rafters of the hall seemed an infernal commotion in a
tomb.

"Let's go upstairs," he told Saskia; "there must be a view from the
upper windows."

"You can see the top of the old Tower, and part of the sea," she said.
"I know it well, for it was my only amusement to look at it. On clear
days, too, one could see high mountains far in the west." His
depression seemed to have affected her, for she spoke listlessly,
unlike the vivid creature who had led the way in.

In a gaunt west-looking bedroom, the one in which Heritage and Dickson
had camped the night before, they opened a fold of the shutters and
looked out into a world of grey wrack and driving rain. The Tower roof
showed mistily beyond the ridge of down, but its environs were not in
their prospect. The lower regions of the House had been gloomy enough,
but this bleak place with its drab outlook struck a chill to Sir
Archie's soul. He dolefully lit a cigarette.

"This is a pretty rotten show for you," he told her. "It strikes me as
a rather unpleasant brand of nightmare."

"I have been living with nightmares for three years," she said wearily.

He cast his eyes round the room. "I think the Kennedys were mad to
build this confounded barrack. I've always disliked it, and old
Quentin hadn't any use for it either. Cold, cheerless, raw
monstrosity! It hasn't been a very giddy place for you, Princess."

"It has been my prison, when I hoped it would be a sanctuary. But it
may yet be my salvation."

"I'm sure I hope so. I say, you must be jolly hungry. I don't suppose
there's any chance of tea for you."

She shook her head. She was looking fixedly at the Tower, as if she
expected something to appear there, and he followed her eyes.

"Rum old shell, that. Quentin used to keep all kinds of live stock
there, and when we were boys it was our castle where we played at bein'
robber chiefs. It'll be dashed queer if the real thing should turn up
this time. I suppose McCunn's Poet is roostin' there all by his lone.
Can't say I envy him his job."

Suddenly she caught his arm. "I s