What I felt was that I must get there, and make some effort that would bring the suspense to an end for both of us.

I was beginning to see how things might be--passing through those grounds she might have chanced on something, or somebody, or Sir Gilbert himself, who, naturally, would not let anybody escape him that could tell anything of his whereabouts.

But if he was at Hathercleugh, what of the tale which Hollins had told us the night before ?--nay, that very morning, for it was after midnight when he sat there in Mr.
Lindsey's parlour.

And, suddenly, another idea flashed across me--Was that tale true, or was the man telling us a pack of lies, all for some end?
Against that last notion there was, of course, the torn scrap of letter to be set; but--but supposing that was all part of a plot, meant to deceive us while these villains--taking Hollins to be in at the other man's game--got clear away in some totally different direction?
If it was, then it had been successful, for we had taken the bait, and all attention was being directed on Glasgow, and none elsewhere, and--as far as I knew--certainly none at Hathercleugh itself, whither nobody expected Sir Gilbert to come back.
But these were all speculations--the main thing was to get to Hathercleugh, acting on the hint I had just got from Scott, and to take a look round the old part of the big house, as far as I could.

There was no difficulty about getting there--although I had small acquaintance with the house and grounds, never having been in them till the night of my visit to Sir Gilbert Carstairs.