tendered this very precise indication to whom it might concern,
Boyd bowed to the company and took his leave.

* * * * *

The Fiscal was for holding him in ward lest he should escape, being such
a principal witness. But the three Justices knew well that there was no
danger of this, and indeed all of them expressed their willingness to go
bail for the appearance of Boyd Connoway whenever he should be wanted.

"And a great many times when he is not!" added my grandmother, with tart
frankness.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SHARP SPUR

Though, therefore, the mystery remained as impenetrable as ever, I think
that the fact of the absence of Lalor Maitland put new vigour into all
of us. Richard Poole was buried in Dumfries, where all the "good jovial
fellows" of a dozen parishes gathered to give him an impressive funeral.
The firm closed up its ranks and became merely Messrs. Smart and Smart.
There was a new and loquacious tablet in St. Michael's relating in
detail (with omissions) the virtues and attainments of the deceased Mr.
Richard. But of the other Mr. Poole, calling himself Wringham Pollixfen,
not a trace, not a suggestion, not a suspicion of his whereabouts had he
left behind since he stepped out of our window into the dark.

But, nevertheless, in Eden Valley the air was clearer, the summer day
longer and brighter, and the land had rest. It was an impressive day
when Irma brought Louis to my father's school. The Academy remembers it
yet.

The morning had opened rather desolately. With the dawn the slate-grey
fingers of the rain clouds had reached down, spanning from Criffel to
Screel. The sea mist did what faith also can do. It removed mountains.
One after another they faded and were not. A chillish wind began to blow
up from the Solway, and even in Eden Valley was heard the distant roar
of the surf, through the low pass which is called the Nick of Benarick.
The long grass first stood in beads and then began to trickle. Flowers
drooped their heads if of the harebell sort, or stood spikily defiant
like the yellow whin and the pink thistle.

I had got ready cloaks and hoods, you may be sure. I was on the spot at
my grandmother's door a full hour before the time. Within I found Mary
Lyon raging. Neither of the bairns should go out of her house on such a
day! What for could they not be content to take their learning from
Duncan and Agnes Anne? Miss Irma, she was sure, was we