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Updated: June 28, 2025
Cromarty and Carrington slipped unostentatiously out of the hotel a few minutes after eight o'clock. "Take any line you like," said Carrington, "but as he knows now that you brought Miss Farmond back and have heard her version, he'll naturally be feeling a little uncomfortable about the place where one generally gets kicked, when he sees you march in.
And then as she heard the pursuing steps always nearer she suddenly slackened speed to let him pass. "Miss Farmond!" said he. He could hear her gasp as she stopped short and turned sharply. She was staring hard now at the tall figure looming above her. "It's only me Ned Cromarty," he said quietly.
"He means you've lied, and he believes Miss Farmond, and he believes Sir Malcolm, and he believes me, and he puts you down as a pretty bad egg. What did you expect to be accused of?" Simon could no more hide his relief to-night than he could hide his fears. "Only of what you have told me only of course of what you say! But I can explain. In good time I can explain."
"So it is!" she exclaimed, and there was a note of surprise in her voice. "I wonder where he has been." The cyclist dismounted at the lodge gates a few moments before the trap pulled up there too, and the young man turned and greeted them. Or rather he greeted Miss Farmond, for his smile was clearly aimed at her alone. "Hullo! Where have you been?" he cried.
"A man with ties and hair like his is capable of anything. You know quite well yourself he is a rotter." "Anyhow you can't believe Cicely Farmond had anything to do with it?" Again she shrugged her shoulders. "My dear Ned, I'm not a detective. A pretty face is no proof a woman is a saint. I told you before that there was generally something in the blood in those cases."
No, no, it's merely a case of every man to his own trade. And as a matter of fact I was left just as bamboozled as you were. For who could this mysterious man be? Of the people inside the house, I had struck out Miss Farmond, Bisset, Lady Cromarty, and all the female servants. Only Sir Malcolm was left. I wired for him to come up and was able to score him out too.
But why are you afraid?" "Oh," she exclaimed. "You know of course!" He stared at her blankly. "I pass; I can't play to that!" he replied. "I honestly do not know, Miss Farmond." Her eyes opened very wide. "That's what I meant when I said I was puzzled. You must know and yet !" She broke off and looked at him doubtfully.
His sister looked a little surprised at his unusual shortness of temper. To her he was very rarely like this. "You need a good day's shooting to take your mind off it for a little," she suggested. He turned upon her hotly. "Do you know the story that's going about, Lilian?" "Sir Malcolm and the Farmond girl? Oh, rather," she nodded. "Is that how it strikes you?" Lilian Cromarty jumped.
It was addressed to Sir Malcolm Cromarty and it ran "Come immediately urgent news don't answer please don't delay." The only thing that seemed to indicate a wondering and abstracted mind was the signature to this message. Instead of "Carrington" he actually wrote "Cicely Farmond." He then hurried to the hotel, which he reached at one-fifty.
"That's a cold-blooded way of putting it," said Ned with something like a shiver. "However, what next?" "Sir Malcolm gets £1,000 a year to support him during the life time of Lady Cromarty, and afterwards falls heir to the whole estate. He therefore gains a baronetcy and £1,000 a year immediately, and the estate is brought a stage nearer him. Miss Farmond gets a legacy of £2,000.
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