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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Ah, then, perhaps he can furnish us with further facts regarding this most extraordinary statement of my daughter's," the blind man exclaimed. "Gabrielle has just told her father the truth regarding a certain tragic occurrence in the Forest of Pontarme. Explain to us all you know, Edgar." "What I know," said Hamilton, "is very quickly told. Has Miss Heyburn mentioned the man Krail?"
If you reflect for a moment," went on the old man, tears welling slowly in his filmy, sightless eyes, "you will realise my unhappy situation how I am compelled to hide my affairs even from Lady Heyburn herself. Does she ever question you regarding them?" "She used to at one time; but she refrains nowadays, for I would tell her nothing."
How extraordinary that there should be almost exactly the same legend concerning a Hungarian castle!" "Who is the owner of Glencardine?" "Sir Henry Heyburn, a friend of mine." "Heyburn!" echoed Hamilton. "Heyburn the blind man?" he gasped, grasping the arm of his chair and staring back at his companion. "And he is your friend? You know his daughter, then?"
With Sir Henry Heyburn he often had long and serious chats. The brilliant politician, whose career had so suddenly and tragically been cut short, gave him much good advice, pointing out the special questions he should study in order to become an authority.
Therefore, full of bitter regrets at being thus compelled to renounce the stress and storm of political life which he loved so well, Sir Henry Heyburn had gone into strict retirement at Glencardine, his beautiful old Perthshire home, visiting London but very seldom. He was essentially a man of mystery. Even in the days of his universal popularity the source of his vast wealth was unknown.
But that's all." Then, by dint of skilful questioning, he elucidated the fact that old Miss Heyburn lived in the tiled house further up the village, and that her niece, who lived with her, had passed along with her dog about a quarter of an hour before, and taken the footpath towards Southwick.
The shabby stranger, whose own ingenuity and double-dealing were little short of marvellous, and under whose watchful vigilance the Heyburn household had been ever since her ladyship and her friend Flockart had gone south, stood silent, but in complete satisfaction.
There he had stopped, bent gallantly over her hand, congratulated her upon her escape, and as their ways lay in opposite directions she back to Woodnewton and he on to Oundle they had parted. "I hope, Miss Heyburn, that we may meet again one day," he had laughed cheerily as he raised his hat, "Good-bye." Then he had turned away, and had been lost to view round the bend of the road. She was safe.
As full of high spirits as of high principles, he was in every way worthy the name of the gallant family whose name he bore, a Murie of Connachan, both for physical strength and scrupulous honesty; while his affection for Gabrielle Heyburn was that deep, all-absorbing devotion which makes men sacrifice themselves for the women they love. He was not very demonstrative.
"It is one of the best makes, and would resist anything, except, of course, the electric current." "To force it would be to put Henry on his guard," Lady Heyburn remarked, "If we are to know what secrets are there, and use our knowledge for our own benefit, we must open it with a key and relock it." "Well, Winnie, we must do something. We must both have money that's quite evident," he said.
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