Half-an-hour after I was driving in the dog-cart through the pouring rain up the hill out of gray old Dumfries to my uncle's house.
As I descended from the cart and gave it over to a groom, old Davis, the butler, came forward, saying in a low voice: "There's Miss Leithcourt waiting to see you, Mr.Gordon.

She's in the morning-room, and been there an hour.

She asked me not to tell anyone else she's here, sir." "Then my aunt has not seen her ?" I exclaimed, scenting mystery in this unexpected visit.
"No, sir.

She wishes to see you alone, sir." I walked across the big hall and along the corridor to the room the old man had indicated.
And as I opened the door and Muriel Leithcourt in plain black rose to meet me, I plainly saw from her white, haggard countenance that something had happened--that she had been forced by circumstances to come to me in strictest confidence.
Was she, I wondered, about to reveal to me the truth?
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