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 THE SPORT OF CHANCE 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
 AT ALL THE LIBRARIES 
 
 SWEET IS TRUE LOVE. By Katharine King, author 
 
 of ' The Queen of the Regiment,' ' Off the Roll,' &c. 2 vols. 
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. By the Author of 'St. Olave's,' 
 
 ' Janita's Cross,' 'Annette,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 THE GAY WORLD. By Joseph Hatton, author of 
 
 'Olytie,' 'Cruel London," &c. 3 vols. 
 
 CAST ON THE WATERS. By Hugh Coleman 
 
 Davidson, author of ' The Green Hills by the Sea.' 3 vols. 
 
 IN BAD HANDS. By F. W. Robinson, author of 
 
 ' Grandmother's Money,' ' The Courting of Mary Smith,' &c. 3 vols. 
 
 HURST * BLACKETT, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
 
 THE SPORT OF CHANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM SHARP 
 
 Hither and thither blown, the sport of Chance. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1888. 
 
 All Rights Reserved.
 
 ?<5 3 
 ■ 19. 
 
 
 ft 
 
 TO 
 
 THEODORE WATTS 
 
 POET — ROMANCIST— CRITIC, 
 
 THESE PAGES 
 ARE 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 
 
 4
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Prologue 1 
 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 I. 
 
 A Mystery 25 
 
 II. 
 
 A Puzzling Incident . 
 
 
 
 53 
 
 III. 
 
 Mr. Charles Leith 
 
 
 
 87 
 
 IV. 
 
 An Accident 
 
 
 
 120 
 
 V. 
 
 A Mysterious Disappearance 
 
 
 
 150 
 
 VI. 
 
 Honour or Dishonour . 
 
 
 
 187 
 
 VII. 
 
 A Night Meeting 
 
 
 
 213 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A Snake in the Grass . 
 
 
 
 229 
 
 IX. 
 
 A Stroke in the Dark 
 
 
 
 247 
 
 X. 
 
 The Valley of the Shadow of Death 
 
 271 
 
 XI. 
 
 Whither? 
 
 
 
 292
 
 THE SPORT OF CHANCE, 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED OFF CONGER COVE. 
 
 The sea was rising in wild tumult along the 
 western coast of Cornwall, and nowhere was its 
 rage more violent than against the slightly 
 indented, horse-shoe-shaped inlet, known as 
 Conger Cove. When, in fine weather, any boat 
 northward bound passed near Conger Cove, the 
 latter looked like a mere inland curve, or, at 
 low tide and with a dead calm, like a gigantic 
 mouth wherein appeared as teeth the jagged 
 reefs fringing with a strange regularity the mass 
 of rock which forms a semicircular wall against 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 the advance of the sea. From the cliffs behind 
 one could see how this slit gradually widens 
 into a small narrow harbour, in which by day 
 are generally anchored some twenty to thirty 
 mackerel boats, and at whose upper end cluster 
 the houses of the village of St. Aphra. But 
 when the sea is high this narrow opening is 
 almost invisible to those looking landward, ow- 
 ing to the clouds of spray which are incessantly 
 tossed up round the mouth-like cove ; and 
 absolutely so when on a wintry twilight not 
 even a glimmer of light shines across the waves 
 from the inhospitable coast. 
 
 And a wintry twilight it was when the Great 
 Storm, as the Cornish fishermen long continued 
 to speak of it, began to develop from a furious 
 gale into a hurricane. 
 
 To the right the Beacon Cliff loomed dimly 
 against the western sky, which still maintained 
 an ominous hue of purple-black quite distinct 
 from the intense darkness swiftly spreading 
 everywhere, as if invisible powers were draw- 
 ing from the eastward a pall of impermeable 
 gloom. The thunder had ceased, or, if it had
 
 PROLOGUE. 3 
 
 not ceased, its sound was overwhelmed in the 
 tumult of the tempest. For a moment the 
 clouds parted far out at sea, and a single star 
 shone forth like a ray of hope. Then it seemed 
 literally blown out, for immediately the clouds 
 became indivisible blackness again ; and by a 
 strange coincidence a fiery meteor flashed as it 
 fell from the very point where the star had dis- 
 closed itself — as if the latter, swept from its 
 ■orbit, were hurtling into space. 
 
 The morning preceding the eve of the Great 
 :Storm had broken with a wild, but as yet fitful, 
 gale. Hours before dawn the smacks had run in 
 from the sea, each fisherman knowing that no 
 ordinary tempest was brewing, and that its fury 
 might at any moment break forth and destroy 
 them and their boats. All day the wind had blown 
 with great force, gradually increasing till it be- 
 came a tempest. The men of St. Aphra lounged 
 about in an aimless way, though some still slept 
 after the toilsome efforts of the preceding night 
 and early morning ; whilst most of those who 
 were about kept uneasily glancing towards 
 Conger Cove, where the smacks were rising 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 and falling on the heavy swell that surged in at 
 the entrance of the tiny harbour. 
 
 When the sun set that afternoon, it fore- 
 boded further change for the worse. A small 
 group of men had strolled down to the outer 
 end of the ' Slice,' but even at that early time 
 in the tempest's growing fury they were half- 
 blinded by the spray. When they returned to 
 the Ferry Rocks they were joined by Garth 
 Trendall. The Trendalls had always been a 
 silent race, seldom speaking unless spoken to, 
 and then only to the point ; and though Garth 
 was among the most prosperous, and was cer- 
 tainly the most respected, of the fishermen of 
 his native place, he was hardly what could be 
 called popular. While few of the younger men 
 cared much for the companionship on land of 
 Garth Trendall, everyone trusted and respected 
 him. The old and the poor trusted him ; those 
 more immediately associated with him in his 
 daily labour knew that no man was his equal 
 in any dangerous emergency ; and that if he had 
 more moral strength, he had also more deter- 
 mination — in a word, more virility than any
 
 PROLOGUE. 5 
 
 two men in St. Aphra. Married, his wife Mary 
 w^as in every way a fitting mate — cheerful, 
 active, and full of kindliness, and only re- 
 gretful because that her buxom maturity was 
 blessed with only one chijd, a lad of some ten 
 years. 
 
 When Trendall reached the group of men at 
 the Ferry Kocks, the latter saw at once he had 
 come with a purpose, probably with some sug- 
 gestion as to the safety of their boats. A tall 
 man, with grizzled hair, somewhat worn face, 
 slightly aquiline nose, and piercing grey-blue 
 eyes, he had an unmistakable individuality that 
 in any small community would at once have 
 marked him out. 
 
 ' Men, this is going to be the worst gale seen 
 by living man on the Cornish coast. There'll be 
 more lives lost to-night than in a week of ordinary 
 storms.' 
 
 * It's a true word, it is,' said one of the 
 men. 
 
 ' There'll be neither moon nor stars seen to- 
 night,' resumed Trendall. 
 
 A pause succeeded, during which the men
 
 6 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 looked uneasily at one another. Evidently some 
 doubt, perhaps the same surmise, had entered 
 into each of their minds. Startling all amid this 
 hesitating silence came a sudden flash of intense 
 light, followed by .a deep, booming roll of 
 thunder. The men turned to gain their separate 
 shelters, as if there were nothing more to be 
 said. 
 
 All except Trendall. He stood still, while 
 a brief look of scorn flashed across his face. 
 
 ' Men,' he cried, ' wait a bit. I've summut to 
 say to ye. Ye needn't hurry. The lightning's 
 miles away yet, and there's no rain with this 
 wind.' 
 
 The six or eight fishermen halted, two of them 
 with more marked reluctance than the others, 
 and it was to these two that the next words were 
 addressed. 
 
 'You, Matthew Webb, and you, Kichard 
 Trego, know what I'm goin' to say. I hope you 
 were hurrying away to tell your wives you're 
 goin' to help your fellow-men to-night. Yes,, 
 men — you, Ned Pennell, you, Jarvis, you, Jack 
 Trenery — all of you — I speak to you as men, and
 
 PROLOGUE. 7 
 
 brave men ! who will come with me and help to 
 raise the warning to-night on the Beacon Cliff? 
 It's a matter of life and death, men,' he went on, 
 speaking more rapidly, and even fiercely, as if he 
 expected instant expostulation — ' a matter of 
 life and death ! Do you hear me, you 1 Do not 
 turn away like that. May the hand of God press 
 heavy on the heart of any man here who refuses 
 his help this wild night !' 
 
 ' You're a good man, Garth Trendall, but you 
 don't know what you're saying. What living 
 man in his senses would venture on to the Beacon 
 to-night, let alone the fact that worse is coming ! 
 Could a strong man walk along the edge of the 
 cliff" just now, reckon ye? Yet you yourself 
 said a minute agone that this was going to be 
 the worst night any of us had ever seen on the 
 coasts.' 
 
 The man who spoke was John Trendall, a 
 cousin of Garth. His words were followed by a 
 murmured sound of approval from the other men, 
 excepting Trego. 
 
 < Garth,' said the latter, * you know I would 
 do what I could to help you, even if you
 
 8 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 wasn't my mate. But what can you or I, or a 
 dozen of us, do to-night ? Even if we could gain 
 the beacon in the black darkness, what warning 
 fire would the wind let be V 
 
 6 A single flash might save a ship, Richard.' 
 At this moment — for during the last few 
 minutes there had been a comparative lull — the 
 wind increased in volume, and broke upon the 
 little group with terrific force. There was a 
 noise in the air as if a thousand windmills were 
 whirling it into a chaos of tumult. The men 
 staggered as drunkards do when, coming out of 
 the blaze of the gin-palace, they find themselves 
 in darkness filled with rain and the noise of street 
 traffic. Even Garth Trendall was stunned and 
 dazed by the lightning and the dreadful crash 
 of the thunder. When he spoke again, he found 
 he had but one man for audience. All had hastily 
 disappeared, leaving Trego alone with his friend. 
 ' I will come with you, Garth,' said the man ; 
 < but God help us !' 
 
 'If you fear God's not helping us, Richard 
 Trego, stay at home. If not, what need have 
 you to fear anything?'
 
 PROLOGUE. 9 
 
 An hour later the two men had gained the 
 summit of the Beacon. Their strength had been 
 tasked to the utmost, for at times the path was 
 almost on the ledge of the steep ascent, and they 
 had to cling to it to prevent their being blown 
 back or over it. At last the summit was reached. 
 Some twelve yards from the ledge was a short 
 wall of solid stone, chiefly natural, but partly 
 artificial. Behind this, safely deposited, were 
 always kept logs of tarred wood, matches, a huge 
 pot of prtch, and other material of the kind. The 
 wall was so constructed as to afford shelter from 
 the south-west, west, and north-west to any 
 beacon that might be lit; and by the time that 
 flames would tower above the wall, small as it 
 was, there was little chance that even an un- 
 usually fierce tempest would be able to beat 
 it out. Yet never was it lit with such 
 difficulty as on this night, even though little 
 rain fell on the kindled brushwood ; such rain as 
 there was being swept along in an almost 
 absolute level, as if it were born of the sea rather 
 than of the tempestuous clouds above. Still 
 the wind grew. It was now a hurricane, and
 
 10 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 one that England had long bitter cause to re- 
 member. At times the two men, away from the 
 shelter of the wall, gasped for air, or rather with 
 excess of it ; if they had thought of such a 
 thing at all, they might have realised what 
 manner of death it is that the fish dies when 
 taken out of its natural element. In a shout 
 that was as a fleeting whisper, Trego cried 
 out, 
 
 ' My God I Trendall, the wind will blow the 
 souls out of our bodies. The cliff slopes to a 
 hollow two or three hundred yards inland ; let's 
 make for it while we can !' 
 
 For a moment the man spoken to was tempted. 
 The flames had at last given sufficient message 
 far seaward. Would it be safe to leave them ? 
 His visible uncertainty decided Trego, who, 
 stooping and staggering, half ran and was half 
 blown out of the flame-lit gloom into the outer 
 darkness. Throwing on more logs, each dipped 
 in pitch, Trendall prepared to follow. He had 
 gone but a few yards when he was struck 
 to the ground as if by the stroke of a gigantic 
 wing — as, indeed, he was — by the wing of the
 
 PROLOGUE. 11 
 
 Angel of Tempest. As he fell he heard a 
 crash. He was not hurt, or stricken by light- 
 ning, only mowed down by the wind ; and, as 
 he looked about him in a sudden great dread, 
 he saw the last embers of the beacon whirled 
 away into the darkness like masses and flakes 
 of fiery snow. No hope now of lighting another 
 beacon, for that crash had been the falling in 
 of the upper part of the wall. Nor could 
 the man rise and flee inland as his comrade had 
 done, for the course of the central current 
 of the hurricane had shifted a point or two to 
 the west, and as effectually cut off his flight in 
 the perilous darkness as if a wall of stone had 
 intervened. 
 
 Then came the sudden opening in the clouds, 
 disclosing the single star ; then the falling of the 
 fiery meteor, luridly lighting up for a moment 
 the wild sea. 
 
 But it was not the gleam of the meteor 
 that made Garth Trendall spring to his feet 
 for the brief moment ere he was again dashed 
 to the ground. What he saw in the vanish- 
 ing light was a ship wildly rushing before the
 
 12 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 awful gale — rushing, as he knew, to what was 
 inevitable destruction. In less than half an hour 
 — in an even briefer space — all that would be 
 left of the vessel would be a mass of riven 
 timbers surging to and fro amidst the teeth-like 
 reefs of Conger Cove. 
 
 Garth Trendall never knew how he reached 
 St. Aphra that night. Men have been known to 
 climb steeples, to reach swaying mast-heads, to 
 do a dozen daring things as somnambulists — 
 accomplishing in their sleep what would be 
 impossible to them when awake. Somehow 
 he reached the base of the cliff in safety, and 
 with a speed excelling that in which he could 
 have done the feat in the broad light of a calm 
 day. 
 
 When he reached the base of the Beacon Cliff 
 he sank exhausted on the ground, but only for a 
 few moments. Drenched w T ith the showers of 
 salt spray which dashed over him as he lay at the 
 mouth of the Slice, he was at the same time 
 revived thereby ; so that, shaking himself like 
 some great dog, he bounded to his feet again, 
 and ere long reached the village. He had little
 
 PROLOGUE. 13 
 
 need, however, to rouse the fishermen. What 
 man, woman, or child could sleep through that 
 awful night, when every moment the thunder 
 of the sea seemed to come nearer, and the roar- 
 ing and violence of the wind to become more 
 terrible ? 
 
 A group of some twenty men stood under the 
 shelter of Trendall's house. All were gloomily 
 anxious about the two missing men, for none 
 had seen the warning fire during the few 
 minutes it had blazed up, and they naturally 
 supposed that Trendall and Trego had found 
 the ascent impossible. Why, then, had they 
 not returned ? What did it mean ? That 
 last terrible lightning flash, what had it done ? 
 
 When old Ivo Marshall shouted out, ' The 
 wind's more to the west'ard, and it'll sweep 
 the path along the ledge like a scythe,' every 
 man there knew what he meant. If this sur- 
 mise were true, they knew what two shape- 
 less things were at this moment being churned 
 against the mutilating rocks which rise through 
 the furious trough of the sea below the 
 Beacon.
 
 14 THE SPORT OF CHAN T CE. 
 
 At this moment Garth Trendall flew past 
 them, unobservant in the darkness and his 
 haste that a group of dark figures was standing 
 at one side of his house. Haggard, drenched, 
 and with marks of blood on his face, no won- 
 der he was mistaken for his ghost, and that a 
 cry of horror rose from the fishermen. Garth 
 Trendall was dead, and his flying and affrighted 
 spirit had rushed past them as a warning of 
 worse evils to come ! A sudden scream rang 
 above the fury of the gale, and the men, not 
 knowing that it came from Mary Trendall as 
 her husband hurled back the door of his cottage, 
 would have become wholly demoralised had not 
 old Ivo Marshall recognised his daughter's 
 voice, and seen the sudden gleam of light issue 
 from the opened door, thus guessing that his 
 son-in-law had returned in the flesh and not 
 in the spirit. 
 
 Even while he shouted his assurances to 
 the men, the door again rapidly opened, and 
 Garth was in their midst. 
 
 'Men, from the top o' the Beacon I saw a 
 ship driving straight to destruction. She'll be
 
 PROLOGUE. 15 
 
 across the Conger Rocks any moment now. You 
 won't refuse to follow me now, men, after what 
 I've clone to-night? For God's sake, come 
 with me at once to the mouth of the Slice. The 
 ship's doomed, but in God's mercy some poor 
 souls may be washed within our reach. There's 
 rope and to spare at Webb's cottage. You'll 
 come, men V 
 
 Whether the speaker's determined spirit ani- 
 mated each man there, or that the danger immi- 
 nent to the whole village touched their hearts to 
 a sudden enthusiasm, there was not one dissen- 
 tient voice among them. 
 
 Forcing their way against the gale, they 
 reached the shelter of the Beacon Cliff, which 
 here rose abruptly from the shore. They were 
 not a moment too soon. A flame-coloured 
 rocket sprang ~up in front of them, and they 
 caught a glimpse of a never-to-be-forgotten 
 scene. 
 
 Yes, Garth Trendall had seen aright. It was 
 indeed a ship that he saw rushing on to inevit- 
 able destruction. The meteor which had first
 
 16 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 revealed it to the watcher on the Beacon Cliff 
 had also shown to the vessel's captain his immi- 
 nent clanger. As the meteor curved in its 
 descent he saw, to his horror, the dim outline 
 of distant cliffs. He knew what these meant, 
 for it was impossible to materially alter his 
 course. For ten minutes, which seemed to him 
 as ten years, he stood silent at his post, listening 
 intently. Doubtless the thought flashed through 
 his mind that what he had seen to lee- 
 ward might possibly be the Land's End, 
 and that he was facing right up channel ; 
 but if such a thought did cross his mind it 
 was soon dissipated. Despair came into his 
 face as his strained ears caught, above the 
 clamour of the wind shrieking through the 
 cordage and the tumult of the sea around, the 
 deep incessant boom of the ocean as it thun- 
 dered against the rocky barrier of the Cornish 
 mainland. 
 
 Rapidly wheeling about, he descended to the 
 cabin, and found some of the passengers cling- 
 ing to whatever they could lay their hands on. 
 He besought them to be calm, not because there
 
 PROLOGUE. 17 
 
 was thus much more chance of escape, but be- 
 cause, as men and women, it behoved them to 
 submit to God's will. 
 
 'Is there then no hope?' asked one of the 
 passengers. 
 
 ' None,' was the answer ; « or rather there is 
 none for this ship. In God's mercy, some of us 
 may perchance reach the shore alive. As for 
 myself, I commend myself to His hands.' 
 
 There was no panic. Death was too near, 
 too certain, for this. Some prayed, others 
 lay in their berths in a strange stupor ; a few 
 spoke in awed whispers, and that saddest 
 of all words, Farewell! was breathed on 
 several lips. Once only a man laughed. It 
 sounded like the mockery of hell. Then, 
 with head thrown forward the same man gave 
 forth broken sobs, weeping wildly at he knew 
 not what, for the terror of his fate had upset 
 his reason. 
 
 The four men at the helm remained firm at 
 their post, though they knew what was coming. 
 The officers and some of the crew cut loose the 
 lifebuoys and everything that might ultimately 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 ] 8 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 prove of service in the final struggle for life, 
 and on the forecastle the third mate stood ready 
 to send off the rockets. Up at last went the 
 great curves of fire, illuminating the scene round 
 as if an impenetrable curtain had for a moment 
 been drawn aside. 
 
 If hope lingered in any man's mind it died 
 out in that moment. In front loomed a sheer 
 wall of cliff, a little to the right of which lay a 
 spit of land covered with huge boulders, in 
 whose midst swung clouds of spray. Between 
 this background and the vessel rose a band of 
 pinnacled reefs, the billows seething round them 
 in masses of churned foam, like froth from the 
 gigantic teeth of some vast saurian. Even 
 while they held their breaths, the ship would be 
 among these ravening fangs ! 
 
 This was the scene witnessed by the fisher- 
 men of Conger Cove. Ere the light of the 
 rocket was expended, they saw the ship give 
 one wild bound, as if she consciously strove to 
 overleap the gaping jaws in front of her, only 
 the next moment to find herself in their midst,
 
 PROLOGUE. 19 
 
 pierced through with a dozen great wounds, and 
 already savagely mutilated and torn. Rocket 
 after rocket sprang up from the shoreward side 
 of the Slice, only serving to illuminate the 
 scene in front with fitful brilliance. The fisher- 
 men could do nothing more, for there was now 
 no vessel into which any rope-bearing rocket 
 could be propelled. Alone, on the largest of the 
 Conger Rocks, hung a portion of the ship — so 
 battered, so shapeless a portion that even the ex- 
 perienced eyes of men like Garth Trendall and 
 Ivo Marshall failed to identify what it was. 
 Some thought it was a portion of the poop, 
 others of the fore-deck. Keen-eyed Mat Webb 
 declared it to be the lower part of the main- 
 mast, with a mass of ropes and miscellaneous 
 wood-stuff. 
 
 No life could have been saved from such a 
 wreck, for no human being could be swept 
 straight thither from the Conger Rocks and 
 survive. The only chance for any unfortu- 
 nate lay in the possibility of some great billow 
 carrying the helpless body in the direction 
 of the Slice Point, thereafter sweeping it 
 
 (3 2
 
 20 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 across the inlet on to the shoreward slope of 
 sand. 
 
 Every man there knew this, and was pre- 
 pared accordingly. Close upon twenty of them 
 linked themselves with each other by a strong 
 rope passed once round the waist, leaving about 
 a yard between each. The man at the seaward 
 end was more firmly secured, and allowed a 
 greater length of rope. This was the post of 
 greatest danger. The end-man was the grap- 
 nel of this human chain — of him was required 
 the greatest strength, the greatest daring, the 
 greatest coolness — and, of course, this man Avas 
 Garth Trendall. 
 
 Ah ! A human body hurled into the cove on the 
 breast of a gigantic billow ! In with a sudden 
 rush sweeps the human chain, one heroic figure 
 battling strenuously with the fierce rush of water. 
 
 But suddenly right over Garth and his nearest 
 comrade impends a vast volume of water. 
 Crash ! the enormous billow whirls them from 
 their footing, and, stunned as they are, they 
 would be swept away or drowned where 
 they are did not the men on the shore and
 
 PROLOGUE. 21 
 
 the others close thereto make an immense effort, 
 and rescue their two comrades. 
 
 As for the body they had tried to save, it was 
 caught by the furious re-surge, and carried out 
 of the Slice again, never more to be seen of 
 mortal eye. 
 
 Another rocket. At the same moment what 
 looked like the keel of a small boat was hurled 
 through the cloud of spray which incessantly 
 hung above the entrance to Conger Cove, and 
 from it something white fell back, with two 
 arms wildly tossed into the air. 
 
 With renewed strength Garth and his men 
 dashed into the surging flood. The next great 
 wave came and swept both boat-hulk and body 
 within a few yards of them, but still beyond 
 Trendall's depth. A spring, two or three 
 mighty strokes, and he reached the body. Will 
 he be able to retain it in his grasp — will the 
 rope hold in the fierce re-surge? A little puny 
 human strength against the might of tempest- 
 uous ocean — is it not impossible that it can 
 prevail ? 
 
 Yet a few moments later Garth Trendall lay
 
 22 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 insensible on the shore, while clasped in his 
 arms was the almost wholly nude body of a 
 man.
 
 BOOK THE FIRST.
 
 25 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A MYSTERY. 
 
 Of the many fine mansions on the slopes of 
 the Sidlaw Hills, few are more noticeable than 
 Firnie Knowe. Built on the gradual incline of 
 one of the pleasantest spurs of this well-known 
 Forfarshire hill-range, it commands from its 
 windows one of the most extensive, and certainly 
 the loveliest, view obtainable within twenty 
 miles of Dundee. When Firnie Knowe and the 
 small estate attached to it passed away from the 
 family which had long been in possession, it was 
 purchased by a Mr. David Armitage, the head 
 of one of the leading shipping firms in Dundee. 
 At the time this story opens, Mr. David Armi-
 
 26 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 tage had been dead about two years. A widower, 
 he had left only one son, who had for the last ten 
 years been a junior partner with his father and 
 his uncle, and who succeeded to full partnership, 
 as well as to all the private property left by his 
 father. Hew Armitage, though only thirty at 
 the time this event happened, had already made 
 himself a worthy representative of the famous 
 firm of Armitage Brothers, and was as universally 
 trusted and respected in the commercial world of 
 Dundee as he was liked and admired in the social 
 sphere in which he moved. Admirable men as 
 both his father and uncle had been, and as the 
 latter still was, neither had gone through 
 life as smoothly as they might have done, for 
 they had allowed commercial rivalry to break 
 up more than one old family friendship. The 
 case where this was most regretted on both sides 
 was that in which the Camerons of Duiart were 
 concerned. 
 
 David Armitage and Archibald Cameron had 
 been school companions, had sailed round the 
 world together, and had been associated in the 
 same firm, that of Cameron & Armitage. The
 
 A MYSTERY. 27 
 
 father of Archibald withdrew from the business 
 owing to a series of continuous misunderstandings 
 on certain technical points, and his son followed 
 suit, the two acting henceforth under the title 
 of Cameron & Son ; ultimately the old man 
 retired to his property of Duiart and there died. 
 The rivalry between the two great commercial 
 firms grew keener and keener, till at last nothing 
 but the most formal courtesy passed between 
 their representatives. At last it seemed as if 
 fate had decided against the house of Cameron, 
 for disaster after disaster succeeded with 
 startling rapidity, while a corresponding suc- 
 cess characterised the operations of Armitage 
 Brothers. 
 
 Mr. Cameron had two children, Charles Edward 
 and Mona, a difference of seven years existing be- 
 tween the brother and sister. When the son was 
 in his twenty-second year he had found himself in 
 pecuniary difficulties, and one day an unpleasant 
 report was prevalent that young Cameron had 
 ruinously disgraced himself, and had left the 
 country precipitately. How the matter was 
 hushed up no outsiders ever knew, but from that
 
 28 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 day Charles Edward Cameron was a stranger to 
 Dundee. As he was never by any chance seen at 
 Duiart either, it gradually became understood 
 that the young man had died abroad, a report 
 which seemed corroborated by the fact that 
 Mr. Cameron never voluntarily spoke of him, 
 and which became a settled truth when one 
 day the laird of Duiart said gravely to an old 
 acquaintance, who had asked him about his sod, 
 * I have now no son.' This, succeeding the many 
 commercial disasters which had overtaken him, 
 induced Mr. Cameron to break up his business and 
 retire on such means as he had ; and it was among 
 the chief pleasures of his later life that David 
 Armitage had sought his friendship again, though 
 the resumption of the acquaintance was not 
 to last long, owing to the intervention of 
 death. 
 
 It was some two or three weeks after his 
 father's death, that Hew Armitage rode over to 
 Duiart, on the western side of the Sidlaws, to 
 return in person his thanks to Mr. Cameron for 
 many recent kind attentions. There, for the first 
 time for a period of five or six years, he saw Miss
 
 A MYSTERY. 29 
 
 Cameron. Instead of a slight and somewhat 
 awkward school-girl whom he remembered, he 
 now saw a tall and handsome woman, who com- 
 bined all the charm of girlishness with the grace 
 and dignity of womanhood; and it was with a 
 new and strange feeling at his heart that he rode 
 away that day. His visits became frequent, and 
 a strong friendship sprang np between the two 
 men, while it became noticeable to every one, 
 except perhaps to Mr. Cameron, that if the 
 young man had an extreme regard for his 
 daughter, the feeling was reciprocal on the part 
 of the latter. Some months passed, during 
 which Mona's father visibly declined in bodily 
 and mental health ; but one day in the early 
 summer Hew met the woman he loved as he 
 rode through Duiart wood, and then and there 
 gained her promise to be his wife. When 
 they reached home they found that Mr. Cameron 
 had had a very severe apoplectic seizure, from 
 which it was almost impossible he could wholly 
 recover. The old man lingered on a few days, 
 however ; and before his death had the pleasure 
 of knowing that his daughter's happiness was
 
 30 THE SPORT OF C1IAXCE. 
 
 assured, so far as it was possible to foresee. 
 Having made her promise that his death was 
 not to interfere with her speedy marriage, he 
 sank back on his pillow with a lon^sigh of re- 
 lief, and breathed no more. M 
 
 Three months later Mona Cameron and Hew 
 Armitage became man and wife, and for a year 
 thereafter realised to the full all the happiness 
 they had hoped for. It is here that we catch 
 up more minutely the threads of then' lives. 
 Smoothly the threads of life may lie in parallel 
 directions, but at any moment they may be 
 blown far apart, or become inextricably en- 
 tangled with others of malign fortune. 
 
 A year had pasj^d, and yet they had no child, 
 a matter which flBftd in no way have troubled 
 Mr. Armitage haWie not seen that something 
 was fretting hiqL~yife, the cause of which he 
 could only attribute to this fact. Yet when a 
 little later it became certain that his wife had 
 assured hope of becoming a mother, he found to 
 his surprise and regret that her depression and 
 nervousness seemed only to intensify. At times
 
 A MYSTERY. 31 
 
 be found her in tears, and once, as he entered 
 her little private room suddenly, he saw her 
 hastily thrust what looked like a letter into her 
 desk, and immediately lock the latter, turning to 
 him with flWs which became red and pale by 
 turns. Naturally, he anxiously sought to find 
 out from her what cause she had for these fre- 
 quent states of dejection, but his wife only 
 laughed at him gently, urging that he did not 
 understand women, and that she had always 
 been subject to attacks of melancholy. He w^s * 
 far from satisfied, but questioned her no further, 
 especially as she seemed to become more like 
 her old self again. He had imagined that the 
 trouble arose from some pl^ical cause, and 
 felt greatly relieved by the c^Wed change for 
 the better. &i 
 
 He had loved his wife wli^Wshe was 5 Mona 
 Cameron. His love had deepened and strength- 
 ened in the past year, till now, though he per- I 
 haps did not consciously so formulate it, she 
 was to him everything that the sap is to the tree 
 — energy, life-joy, life itself. But even in his
 
 I 
 
 32 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 deep affection he was reticent, and if Mona 
 missed anything in his love, it was something of 
 that happy lightness, that joyous trifling, with- 
 out which love is sure to suffer, mayhap even 
 perish, through its own intensity. 
 
 Returning late one summer afternoon from 
 Dundee, Hew Armitage, as he rode slowly to- 
 wards Firnie Knowe from the small station at 
 which he had alighted, seemed buried in 
 thought. He had cause for this, for he had re- 
 cently lost a large sum of money through a 
 mysterious forgery — a forgery so dexterous that 
 not only the cashiers of the bank but his own 
 accountant and chief clerk had been deceived, 
 and he himself had found it impossible to point 
 out any deviation from the formation of the 
 letters in his customary signature. He had not 
 the faintest reason to suspect anyone, and the 
 most rigid inquiry, both by himself and efficient 
 detectives, had failed to elicit anything to clear 
 up the mystery. The teller at the bank who 
 had cashed the cheque had recently been 
 appointed to his post from a small branch- 
 managership, and had as yet but a limited expe-
 
 \ 
 
 A MYSTERY. 33 
 
 rieuce of his new work. His information, so far 
 as it went, only amounted to this — that on such 
 and such a day, about the busiest hour, a gentle- 
 man had presented a cheque for two thousand 
 pounds, the cheque bearing the well known 
 signature, in Mr. Hew Armitage's hand, of ' Ar- 
 mitage Brothers ;' that he had verified it with 
 the signature-book, and had, in addition, said to 
 a neighbouring teller in passing that he supposed 
 it was all right, though it was a large amount 
 for an c open ' cheque ; and that the latter had 
 replied that the firm in question had on several 
 occasions hitherto granted cheques ' to bearer ' 
 for considerable sums. So far as he could re- 
 collect, he added, the payee was a man of about 
 five feet ten in height, slightly built, and, 
 though darkly and heavily bearded, not giving 
 the impression of more advanced age than 
 thirty-five, or thirty-eight at most. No one else 
 seemed to have noticed the presenter of the 
 cheque, and even Mr. Anderson, the teller, said 
 he could not swear to minute particulars, and 
 that even as to his height he might be mistaken, 
 while lie had some doubt as to whether he could 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE SPORT OF CHAXCE. 
 
 with certainty recognise the man if he met him 
 elsewhere — and this in great part from the fact 
 that during the few hurried moments in which 
 the stranger was at the counter he had leaned 
 well over the blotting-pad beside the paying- 
 desk, apparently immersed in arithmetical cal- 
 culations. 
 
 Two important matters of detail remained to 
 be elucidated. One was the number of the 
 cheque. In the teller's books it was entered as 
 x09,915, and the date of the draft was 10th of 
 June, while the last form drawn from the 
 cheque-book of the firm, dated 12th of June, 
 was numbered x09,912, and it was ascertained 
 that during the checking of the books the clerk 
 had not noticed the discrepancy. On examina- 
 tion, it was found that draft-form No. x09,915 
 was missing from the cheque-book, and that, 
 in addition, No. x09,933 had been removed, 
 in both instances with the portion used for 
 memoranda of the payee and the amount, but 
 so skilfully that the abstraction could only have 
 been noticed by examination. When, where,
 
 A MYSTERY. 35 
 
 and by whom could this abstraction have taken 
 place ? 
 
 Up to the day of inquiry, Mr. John Armitage 
 had been absent on a visit to the Baltic ports, 
 and his nephew had had entire control of the 
 financial as well as the other departments of the 
 business; it had so happened that, owing to 
 a slightly-sprained ankle, Hew had been unable 
 to leave Firnie Knowe for some days, and that 
 he had transacted necessary business in the 
 morning-room there, a pleasant room opening 
 by French windows on to a lawn that sloped 
 upwards to the edge of the fir-wood which lay 
 behind the house. In an escritoire there he had 
 kept his cheque-books and many private papers, 
 but had on no occasion noticed anything out of 
 order, though he believed he had once or twice 
 left the key standing in the lock of the folding- 
 up shelf. On being questioned if he had not 
 signed the cheque which had been presented, or 
 left it otherwise unfilled up, and perhaps lying 
 loose in his open escritoire, he replied most 
 decidedly in the negative, adding that lie in- 
 
 d2
 
 36 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 variably filled up the side-slip before writing out 
 any draft ; that he never did such a thing as put 
 his signature to any cheque till it had otherwise 
 been definitely filled up ; and that, moreover, he 
 had put his name to no business- draft on the 10th, 
 and only to two on his private account, both of 
 which had been duly presented and cancelled. 
 During the few days he had been confined to 
 the house, no one had been within it except the 
 doctor and the confidential clerk, who came out 
 daily for instructions, and neither the one nor 
 the other had ever been in the room in question 
 alone. 
 
 Both Mr. and Mrs. Armitage had complete 
 trust in their servants, but, of course, the most 
 thorough and searching inquiry was gone into 
 by the detective employed, yet without dis- 
 covery of the faintest clue, and without leav- 
 ing the shadow of suspicion on anyone in Firnie 
 Knowe. The detective even (unknown to Mr. 
 Armitage) gathered everything he could about 
 the lady of the house, but, of course, with no 
 result. He did not even find out that the most 
 ordinary household bills were unpaid. All this
 
 A MYSTERY. 37 
 
 was very perplexing, and the inquiry was still 
 further baffled by the discovery that the notes 
 in which the greater part of the two thousand 
 pounds were paid had been exchanged for 
 gold, partly at another bank in Dundee, but 
 mainly at two of the chief establishments in 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 A week passed, and there was as yet no 
 clue to the forgery. Hew Armitage did not 
 know, as he rode homeward this evening, that 
 a few hours previously Mr. Gavin, the detective, 
 had expressed his opinion to the bank-manager 
 that the cheque was not a forgery at all as regards 
 the signature, but that the duly signed open 
 cheque had been torn from the book at some 
 favourable opportunity by some one in the house, 
 and that the writing of the sum and the date and 
 the figures had been filled in by some outside 
 accomplice. Mr. Armitage, they both knew, 
 utterly disbelieved this idea, but at the instance 
 of the manager of the bank Mr. Gavin agreed to 
 concentrate his energies on the task of finding 
 out who in the house was the guilty person, a 
 decision, it was agreed, which was not to be com-
 
 38 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 municated to Mr. Armitage. Of course every 
 possible precaution was taken wherewith to 
 checkmate such a contingency as the presenta- 
 tion of cheque No. x09,933. 
 
 As Mr. Armitage reached the lodge at the south 
 gate of his property he met an under-groom, and 
 as he felt inclined to take a short stroll he dis- 
 mounted and gave his horse to the man to take 
 home. A long avenue of beech, ash, and silver 
 birch led towards the house, but within a couple 
 of hundred yards thereof it forked, the left 
 branch being the avenue proper, and the right a 
 path which first skirted the garden and then led 
 up to and through the fir-wood behind. It 
 was along the latter that Mr. Armitage pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 This mysterious forgery troubled him greatly,, 
 and he was even beginning to feel that he would 
 willingly pay an additional sum to what he had 
 already lost if only the matter could be satis- 
 factorily elucidated. He felt certain that none 
 of the servants was guilty, judging thus 
 not only from the total absence of circumstantial 
 evidence, but also from his own exceptionally
 
 A MYSTERY. 39 
 
 keen insight into character. Still more assured 
 was he that he had not signed the cheque, so 
 that the question arose, was the draft forged in 
 the house as well as abstracted % Whenever this 
 reflection crossed Armitage's mind, it was accom- 
 panied by the vague uneasiness already referred 
 to. Who in his household could have the ability 
 to do such a thing ? Certainly no one except 
 his wife, and she, of course, was out of the 
 question. 
 
 Loud and clear a thrush sang out. It was 
 answered by another at a distance, and the 
 sweet double tremor quivered through the green 
 leaves, as if two happy sunbeams had taken voice 
 to themselves, and sang as they flickered to and 
 fro through the woodland. The young man 
 stopped and listened. Something in the wild, 
 free song touched him, or perhaps something 
 therein in special sympathy with the peace of the 
 lovely June afternoon. From the firs beyond 
 Firnie Knowe came a soft, sibilant sound, as the 
 ring-doves cooed incessantly to each other; and 
 at intervals the harsh scream of a jay or whistling 
 cry of the sparrow-hawk came as pleasant dis-
 
 40 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 cords in the general harmony. He sighed at he 
 knew not what, and a happy thought came into 
 his mind of his fair wife, and of the deep love he 
 bore her and that united them so strongly. His 
 vague, undefined apprehension left him, but once 
 more his thoughts returned to this mysterious 
 forgery. 
 
 Again and again returned the same endless 
 conjectures associated with the same per- 
 sonages — Johnson, the butler ; Macdermott, the 
 coachman ; Maxwell, the under-groom, and so 
 forth through all the servants, from the lodge- 
 keeper and gardeners to the youngest in the 
 house — on no one of them could the faintest 
 suspicion rest with any shadow of reason. If he 
 allowed any doubt to influence his judgment at 
 all, it was in the case of Maxwell, the under- 
 groom, who had been at Firnie Knowe only six 
 months, and of whose antecedents he knew com- 
 paratively little ; yet the lad had come to him 
 with a thoroughly good character, and had given 
 entire satisfaction throughout his present engage- 
 ment, and Hew Armitage's strong sense of justice 
 prevented his letting any real suspicion rest on
 
 A MYSTERY. 41 
 
 the young man. Then he recalled all who had 
 been in his house within the last month— Dr. 
 Steele, the Rev. James Gilray, Browne the 
 confidential clerk, and one or two friends 
 who had made a passing call — each and all of 
 them wholly beyond suspicion, even if they had 
 never been in his house during the period in 
 question save in the presence of himself or his 
 wife. 
 
 Armitage had in his slow stroll passed the 
 north end angle of the garden, and was about 
 to enter the well-known and very beautiful fir- 
 wood which gave the name to his property. 
 A sudden faint but pitiful squealing attracted 
 his attention. Going to the edge of the mea- 
 dow, he saw at a glance what had caused the 
 sounds he had heard. An unfortunate rabbit 
 had wandered too far a-field, and while brows- 
 ing there upon some delicate green food had 
 become aware of the presence of its deadliest 
 enemy. Probably it was as much smell as sight, 
 aided, perhaps, by an exceptionally keen instinct 
 of fear, that had warned it of the stealthy ap- 
 proach of a stoat.
 
 42 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 As Armitage watched, he caught occasional 
 glimpses of a small greyish animal, almost 
 serpentine in its stealthy gliding movement. 
 When within about ten yards of the rabbit it 
 stopped, as if it were gathering energy for a 
 long swift leap, or as if calculating whether 
 the right moment had arrived or not — for, 
 curiously enough, if the stoat or weasel should 
 miss at the outset, the spell seems to be broken, 
 and in an agony of desperation the prey occa- 
 sionally escapes. The rabbit seemed to be 
 panting hard, but uttered no sound ; then, 
 suddenly, it sprang to its feet once more and ran 
 a few yards, when its strength apparently 
 collapsed, and it crouched upon a low mound of 
 grass and began that pitiful squealing which 
 is so painful to listen to. In absolute silence, 
 as far as the listener could hear, not even 
 rustling the grass as it glided onward, closer and 
 closer drew the stoat ; then, like an arrow, 
 it shot forward, gave one bite with its long- 
 narrow teeth just behind the ear, and the rabbit 
 was dead. 
 
 Armitage had never witnessed anything of the
 
 A MYSTERY. 43 
 
 kind before, and the incident affected him 
 strangely. He knew that rabbits frequently- 
 met with their death in this manner, yet there 
 seemed to him something horrible in what he 
 had just witnessed, as if he had been spectator 
 of a real tragedy that had taken place in the 
 security and beauty of the peaceful midsummer 
 afternoon. 
 
 The wish to stroll through the fir-wood now 
 left him, so he branched off from the central 
 path by a smaller and little frequented one that 
 led to a tiny summer-house built, so far as the 
 eye could see, of fir cones; from this again 
 ran a by-path in the direction of a prac- 
 tically disused entrance to the gardens of 
 Firnie Knowe. The fir-needles of past seasons 
 covered the path like a soft and yielding carpet, 
 whereon it was a luxury to tread with noise- 
 less footsteps. Not since the early spring 
 had Hew and his wife been there, though 
 they frequently strolled along some of the 
 numerous other paths that wandered aimlessly 
 hither and thither through the wood; so 
 beautiful did it seem this afternoon, that the
 
 44 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 former wondered he did not oftener pursue it, 
 mentally adding that he and Mona must make it 
 their goal when next they should wander 
 through the wood together. 
 
 There was no wind, and just enough of sultri- 
 ness to make the air heavy with fragrance, in 
 which the keenest odour was that of the new- 
 mown hay in some meadows not far distant. 
 How like a nightingale's was that thrush's note, 
 yet how much richer and more passionate, if not 
 so electrically thrilling ! As Hew stopped to 
 listen, and then turned to resume his walk, a 
 trailing branch of honeysuckle came in contact 
 with his face ; how sweet the scent was, how 
 delicate yet so keen, how suggestive of summer 
 and of deep shady hedges wherein robins, wrens, 
 sedge-warblers, woodlarks, and a host of other 
 birds twittered in the grateful coolness. Only 
 a spray of honeysuckle, which indeed Hew 
 Armitage barely consciously noticed ; yet winch 
 entered into his mind as absolutely as might any 
 important detail. Years afterwards no sudden 
 odour of the honeysuckle could reach him but 
 he instantly remembered this spray whose fra- 
 grance now filled the air round him.
 
 A MYSTERY. 45- 
 
 As be stood inhaling its scent, ere he 
 thrust it aside, he heard voices issue from the 
 little summer-house in front of him. He was 
 startled into surprise, for he had never known 
 his wife come to the wood alone ; yet who could 
 it be except Mona, and, if so, to whom was she 
 speaking? He smiled as he caught himself 
 mentally asking these questions, thinking that 
 he was indeed becoming morbid and suspicious 
 if he could not hear his wife's voice in her own 
 grounds without being startled. 
 
 At that moment two figures issued from the 
 summer-house — Mona, and a gentleman whom 
 Hew had not an opportunity to recognise by 
 features, for the two had not looked backward, 
 but, deep in apparently earnest conversation, 
 had proceeded along the half-effaced, struggling 
 by-path in the direction of the high garden wall. 
 A strange repugance to intrude his presence 
 upon them prevented Armitage from letting 
 them know that he was there, so as soon as they 
 had disappeared behind the first turning he 
 entered the summer-house, and sat down by 
 the little round white-painted table at whose
 
 46 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ugliness he and Mona had laughed when they 
 first saw it, but which had been allowed to re- 
 main in its pristine condition. 
 
 Why he thus acted Armitage would have 
 found it difficult to tell. All he admitted to him- 
 self was that he did not then feel inclined to 
 talk to strangers, and that he did not even care 
 to know whom the visitor was. Confound this 
 forgery business ! would he never get it out of 
 his mind ? No, he would not let his mind dwell 
 on the subject for the present ; he had worried 
 enough about it already. So he sat on the 
 rough, cane-worked seat with his legs stretched 
 out, his eyes fixed on the patch of blue sky that 
 shone amidst the leaves of a giant ash in front 
 of the summer-house, and his ears alert to the 
 hum of the grey gnats and the subdued, mono- 
 tonous boom of a drowsy honey-bee as it swung 
 heavily inside a tall blue campanula. 
 
 Suddenly he determined to conquer this un- 
 usual listlessaess that had overtaken him, and 
 to join his wife and her friend. He had risen 
 half-way with this intent when his eye caught 
 a curious slur on the white, sloping edge of
 
 A MYSTERY. 47 
 
 the little table. It had been caused by some 
 pencilling having been partially effaced, but 
 not sufficiently so to prevent the letters being 
 readable. It had, moreover, evidently been 
 recently done, for a few dusty particles of lead 
 still lay at the end of the smudge. Scrutinizing 
 the writing, Hew was at once surprised and 
 startled to perceive that the letters were those 
 of his own signature — startled for what reason 
 he did not permit himself to say, and surprised 
 because he knew it was a considerable time 
 since he had been in the summer-house, and 
 because he had no recollection of having scrib- 
 bled his name on the ledge of the table or any- 
 where else. For a moment he felt sick with the 
 same vague apprehension that had so often 
 troubled him of late, but the next he was again 
 stooping over the table and examining his 
 signature. Blurred as it was, it was too exactly 
 his to doubt its genuineness, the only point of 
 divergence he noticed being the absence of the 
 dot it was his custom to insert between his 
 baptismal and his surname, thus — Hew . Armi- 
 tage. But this might, as an occasional instance,
 
 48 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 have been omitted, or the dot might have been 
 there, but have been wholly obliterated. He 
 felt strangely interested in this signature. Tak- 
 ing out a letter from his pocket which he had 
 forgotten to post, he opened the envelope and 
 compared his name as written there with that 
 on the table-ledge. They were identical, save 
 for the slight exception referred to. No, it could 
 not have been — ? it could not have been any 
 other than himself; yet strange that by no 
 mental effort could he recall the fact. 
 
 ' And what on earth has it got to do with that 
 cursed forgery?' he muttered to himself; and 
 yet he illogically enough felt relieved when 
 he further realised that he inscribed the name of 
 Armitage differently when signing for the firm 
 than when writing for himself. It was hardly 
 possible that anyone he had ever met could suc- 
 cessfully forge his signature, both as 'Hew 
 Armitage ' and as ' Armitage Brothers.' But 
 again, if he had written his signature here a 
 long time ago, how came it to look so recent ? 
 Ah, he must have been mistaken about there 
 having been lead-dust still lying about, as if a
 
 A MYSTERY. 49 
 
 very soft or newly-sharpened pencil had been 
 used. Look, there was not a vestige of it now 
 to be seen ! But again, who had endeav- 
 oured to rub it out — for such an endeavour 
 was apparently pointed to by the smear show- 
 ing signs of having been rubbed backward 
 as well as forward. Whoever had meant to rub 
 it out, might have done it thoroughly, thought 
 Armitage — unless, perhaps, the person had been 
 interrupted. 
 
 ' Oh, well, let it be,' he said aloud to himself, 
 * there's enough to worry one without puzzling 
 over useless conundrums.' 
 
 Walking quickly along the by-path, he in a 
 few minutes gained a turning whence a glimpse 
 could just be had of the moss-stained door 
 which has already been referred to as a seldom- 
 used entrance to the gardens. Mechanically 
 glancing in its direction he was astonished at 
 what he saw. He was not surprised to perceive 
 that his wife and the visitor had only just then 
 reached that distance, for they had walked away 
 very slowly, and he had not really been more 
 than a few minutes in the summer-house ; nor 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 50 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 did it at the time strike him as strange that 
 they should apparently be returning by a prac- 
 tically never used entrance, but he was indeed 
 astonished to see Mona suddenly disappear 
 through the doorway, while her friend turned 
 and retraced his footsteps in the direction of the 
 wood. 
 
 Yet the two men did not meet, for the visitor 
 took one of the little paths that here branched 
 off in all directions. At a considerable distance 
 Hew heard the footsteps as they occasionally 
 trampled over small crackling branches. ' I'm 
 tired of puzzling,' he again muttered, and then 
 walked rapidly homeward, intending to reach 
 the house by the same garden entrance through 
 which his wife had passed from his sight. In 
 a few minutes he was alongside of the great 
 brown wall, on the other side of which hung, in 
 the autumn, long narrow jargonelles and 
 golden-toned peaches ; but, to his chagrin — he 
 found the door locked. 
 
 Turning, he skirted the wall for a distance of 
 about a hundred yards, and then gained entrance 
 by what was known as the under-gardener's
 
 A MYSTERY. 51 
 
 door. When he reached the house, he found his 
 wife in her room. The question as to who had 
 been her visitor was on the tip of his tongue, 
 but something made him refrain and wait till 
 Mona volunteered the information, which, he did 
 not doubt, would be very shortly. About ten 
 minutes passed, and she made no remark bearing 
 on the visit of anyone. The dinner-bell rang, 
 and then through a dull, and on one side at any 
 rate, wearisome repast, not the faintest reference 
 was made to the matter which was so occupy- 
 ing Armitage's mind. He felt strangely con- 
 strained, and even cold, to his wife ; but, deter- 
 mined not to misjudge her in any way, he 
 afforded her more than one opportunity to state 
 naturally what had occurred. A foolish pride 
 prevented his telling her how he had seen her 
 and her acquaintance in the wood, lest she 
 should think he had been watching her sus- 
 piciously. Yes, she had taken a stroll this 
 afternoon ; yes, it had been in the wood ; no, no 
 visitor ' had called upon us.' This was all Hew 
 learned. 
 
 Strangely enough, what he lay dreamily 
 
 e2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSnT OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 thinking of on his bed that night was not of the 
 mysterious forgery, nor of the writing in the 
 summer-house, nor of his wife's unaccountable 
 reticence: what kept possession of his mind 
 was the incident of the stoat and the rabbit. 
 When at last he fell asleep, the same scene 
 pursued him in his dreams. And then it came, 
 by some freak of vagrant fancy, that the 
 rabbit seemed to him Mona, and the stoat 
 the person he had seen her with ; and when he 
 heard again the pitiful squealing he awoke, 
 and by his side heard his wife crying in her 
 sleep.
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 
 
 Next morning Hew told his wife that she must 
 have been dreaming, for he had heard her crying 
 in her sleep. Mona's large dark-blue eyes dis- 
 tended as with sudden fear, and in the expression 
 of her pale face there was the expectancy of one 
 who momentarily awaits news of painful import. 
 But her husband only glanced at her, and said 
 nothing further on the subject. She seemed to 
 endeavour to shake off her apprehension or de- 
 pression, whichever it might be, and to be even 
 more affectionate than usual to Hew, and he pre- 
 pared to leave Firnie Knowe for Dundee. Even 
 if he had harboured any misgivings regard-
 
 54 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ing his wife's conduct, it would have been 
 impossible to do so in her presence, for Mona was 
 one of those women in whose eyes seem to dwell 
 the very spirit of truth. 
 
 Hew Armitage had passed an almost sleepless 
 night, for after having been awakened by the 
 sound of his wife's subdued weeping he had lain 
 silent but thoughtful till a cold, grey light gra- 
 dually absorbed the shadows in their bed-room, 
 and he knew that the dawn had come at 
 last. 
 
 Rising gently, he had crossed the room, and, 
 having partially raised the blind, discovered that 
 a soft rain was falling, and as he looked he felt, 
 through the partially opened window, a breath of 
 fragrance wafted in from the wet lilac-bushes 
 that grew underneath. Thereafter, from his bed 
 he lay watching the sky losing its pallor and be- 
 coming slowly vivified, as it were, though for 
 long no positive hue permeated it from the advent 
 of the sun. 
 
 Even the acutest pain becomes subdued at 
 this mystic hour of dawn — mysterious because of 
 its subtle influence — which not onlv affects
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 55 
 
 man, but the whole animal and vegetable 
 world. And if the disturbing reflections that 
 chased each other through Hew Armitage's mind 
 did not depart and leave him in peace, they at 
 any rate seemed to become more shadowy, more 
 speculative, more as if they were in connection 
 with some strange event that interested while it 
 did not at all materially affect the thinker. The 
 soft, wavering flush which preludes the dawn of 
 a fine day came and went. The morning-star 
 paled like a lamp whose flame grows attenuated, 
 and high in the steel-blue heaven hung the wan- 
 ing moon in a crescent of the most delicate opal. 
 Then a wave of crimson and wild-rose pink 
 suffused the east, the light of day aroused all 
 the birds, and the first beam of the rising sun 
 stole into the room and lit up the golden- 
 tinted hair of Mona. How beautiful she looked, 
 thought her husband; at this moment she 
 seemed to him like an angel, with her delicate 
 pale face retaining some faint dream-smile, and 
 the sunlit hair forming a halo to the youthful 
 head. Even as he looked she sighed, and put 
 one hand to the white breast over which a few
 
 56 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 wavy tresses strayed, as if her heart were 
 troubled by some sad and weary thought. Hew 
 noticed the movement, and sighed also as he 
 turned and watched the advancing sunrise. Not 
 far from the window a girl passed to her dairy- 
 work, singing as she went. A little later he 
 heard the voices of the mowers as they met on 
 the wide-sloping lawn in front ; and then came 
 the long swish of the scythes as they swept 
 through the dewy grass, a music monotonous 
 but drowsily pleasant. The sharp, keen cries 
 of the blackbirds as they jerked along the 
 ground, the chattering of the starlings, the 
 twittering of the busy house-sparrows and the 
 swallows under the eaves, the high, clear song 
 of a mavis as he swayed upon a bough of fra- 
 grant lilac, and shrilly above them all the rap- 
 turous rivalry of two or three larks — of all these, 
 as well as of the poignant pervading sweet- 
 ness of the new-mown hay, Hew was dreamily 
 cognizant. 
 
 At last he determined to rise and enjoy a 
 stroll before breakfast, though he did not permit 
 definite expression of the real intention which
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 57 
 
 lay deeper in his mind. Mona did not awake 
 with his absence, or at any rate not until after 
 he had left his dressing-room. By the time 
 she did open her eyes, to find the broad day- 
 light in the room, and Hew not by her side, the 
 latter was in Firnie Wood, and on his way to 
 the little summer-house. 
 
 When he had left the house he crossed the 
 gardens, walked through the rosery, the fruit 
 gardens, and the apple orchard, and then along 
 some marrow and cucumber beds, and past three 
 or four disused forcing-houses till he reached the 
 door by which Mona had entered the previous 
 day. It was locked, certainly, but the key was 
 on the inside. Heavily rusted over, it evidently 
 was rarely used, and seldom if ever removed 
 from its present position. Turning it, Hew 
 found himself on the little vagrant by-path, 
 now crossed every here and there by the pen- 
 dulous webs of the garden spider, wherein 
 the dewdrops glistened like diamonds in veils 
 of gossamer ; these he noticed, and a small 
 green beetle that kept incessantly alighting 
 and then winging onward before his advancing
 
 58 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 steps — but nothing else consciously, for his 
 mind was again occupied with puzzling over 
 the origin of the signature he had so unexpect- 
 edly discovered in the summer-house. Arriv- 
 ing at the latter, he at once stooped over the 
 little table, but — there was not a vestige of the 
 signature to be seen ! 
 
 Armitage now felt thoroughly puzzled. 
 Surely all this about his signature in pencil 
 on the ledge of this table was a dream, he 
 thought ; yet no, the incident of the previous 
 day was too memorably real. He could not 
 have merely dreamt about it, yet now there was 
 absolutely no trace of the writing, though from 
 the knowledge of the exact spot where he had 
 seen it he fancied he could perceive a slight 
 darkening, as if the vanished signature had 
 left behind it its almost invisible shadow. 
 What could it mean, and what, also, was the 
 significance of the fact that, while Armitage 
 looked puzzled, his expression had lost its late 
 look of apprehension ! What was the shadow 
 of fear that had passed away from his mind ? 
 But the only thought he formulated was that
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 59 
 
 his wife had not been out of his sight since the 
 previous evening, and that therefore she could 
 not have been in the summer-house since he 
 had last visited it ; but even the rapid formu- 
 lation of this thought startled him. 
 
 ' Heaven knows what I might have allowed 
 myself to imagine,' he muttered ; but his face 
 cleared as he did so, and he set himself with 
 renewed energy to the consideration of the 
 puzzling matter before him. 
 
 After all, he reflected, had the signature 
 necessarily been removed by anyone % Might 
 its absence not be accounted for by the rain 
 which had fallen during the night, whose 
 soft plash-plash amongst the lilacs he had 
 heard that morning before dawn? On the 
 table lay in slight indentations two little 
 pools, and the whole surface was wet and 
 shiny with the drops that had fallen from the 
 badly-constructed roof. True, the ledge, or 
 rather the portion of it in which Armitage was 
 interested, was dry, but it might have been 
 quite a channel for an overplus of rain- 
 drops. Yes, it was quite likely, he argued,
 
 '60 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 that the rain had washed the signature 
 away, though it was curious that a slight 
 pencilled twirl of a characterless description, 
 close to where the former had been, remained 
 intact. 
 
 He turned to leave the summer-house, self- 
 convinced as regarded the disappearance of 
 the signature, and, if not quite at rest about 
 the genuineness of the original inscription, at 
 least willing to let the matter drop from his 
 consideration for the moment, or until after he 
 had heard something elucidatory from his 
 wife. 
 
 As he passed out, something cracked under 
 his feet, and, looking down, he saw an object 
 which he at once picked up. It was a slim and 
 short cedar-wood pencil, such as is frequently 
 partially enclosed in a silver setting or case. It 
 did not belong to him, nor did he recognise it 
 as Mona's, but probably, he thought, it did 
 belong to her. 
 
 By the time breakfast was over, Mona had made 
 no remark about her visitor. Hew's horse was 
 brought to the door, for he generally rode over
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 61 
 
 the three or four miles that intervened between 
 Firnie Knowe and the nearest railway-station ; 
 and his wife had just kissed him a brief good- 
 bye, when he turned to her with a question 
 which, with all his effort to speak naturally, 
 fell in a constrained tone upon Mona's sensitive 
 ear. 
 
 1 By-the-by, dear, when were you and I last 
 in the little summer-house in the wood — you 
 know the one I mean ; that built of fir- 
 cones V 
 
 ' Why, Hew, I — I — really don't remember. 
 Wait a bit— let me see ! Why, yes, I recollect 
 now ; it was in February last, a Sunday, 
 for don't you remember it was the first real 
 day of spring, and we were enticed thither 
 from the wood through hearing a robin singing 
 sweetly V 
 
 Mona spoke with rapid emphasis, as if eager 
 only to recall to his remembrance the day in 
 question, but her husband noticed how pale she 
 had suddenly grown when he asked her the 
 question, and how the swift colour still came and 
 went.
 
 <32 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ' You are sure that was the last time, Mona V 
 
 < Yes, Hew.' 
 
 ' It's very strange,' muttered the latter below 
 his breath ; then ; speaking aloud, said that he 
 might be home later than usual, as he had 
 something to attend to that was worrying him 
 greatly just now. 
 
 ' What is it, dear, if I may ask ! Anything 
 wrong in business, or is it some personal mat- 
 ter that is worrying you?' 
 
 * I will tell you another time, Mona, but now 
 I must be off;' and with these words Armitage 
 rode away, for the first time since his marriage 
 forgetting to wave his hand to his wife ere he be- 
 came lost to sight owing to a turniDg of the long 
 beech-avenue. The latter noticed this omission, 
 and the tears rose to her eyes, only to be checked, 
 however, in a moment, as she called to mind 
 what Hew had just said relative to something 
 that was specially engrossing his attention. 
 
 When Armitage reached his office he found Mr. 
 Gavin, the detective, awaiting him. As yet, the 
 latter declared, he had not obtained anything 
 satisfactory as a clue, and, by some remark he
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 63 
 
 dropped, Hew inferred that the detective con- 
 sidered that he would be able to assist him 
 materially. 
 
 He had fully intended to tell the officer not 
 only about the matter of the signature on the 
 ledge of the summer-house table, but also about 
 the finding of the pencil. However, he decided 
 not to mention the latter fact just then, at any 
 rate. 
 
 Slowly and circumstantially he put the matter 
 before Mr. Gavin, in whose eyes twinkled a 
 momentary gleam of triumph, as if some un- 
 expressed speculation of his was a foregone 
 conclusion. 
 
 ' Have you any opinion on what I have just 
 told you, Mr. Gavin V 
 
 'Well, sir, I never go upon the plan of saying 
 what I think about anything till I feel quite sure 
 my opinion is based on something reliable. But 
 I would like to ask you again if you are quite 
 certain that you never wrote that signature 
 within, say, the last month ; also, if you have, 
 within the last few months, written to your wife 
 any note signed with your name in full V
 
 64 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ' As to your first question, I can answer you 
 most decisively that to my certain knowledge 
 I did not write the signature in question within 
 the last month or two months, whatever I may 
 possibly have done earlier. As to your second 
 query, I would like to know why you ask it V 
 
 ' Oh, simply, Mr. Armitage, because if you had 
 written such a note, your wife might by chance 
 have left it lying about, or accidentally mislaid 
 it, or perhaps thrown it in the waste-paper basket 
 — and thus, of course, it might have got into 
 hands that had no business with it.' 
 
 4 Well, Mr. Gavin, all that I can say is that, 
 while I have undoubtedly written short notes to 
 Mrs. Armitage when I have been from Firnie 
 Knowe for a day or tAvo, I have no recollection 
 of signing any with my name in full.' 
 
 After the detective had gone, Hew felt some- 
 what ashamed that he had not told about the 
 pencil he had found. Why had he not done so ? 
 He did not know, nor did he attempt to explain 
 the fact even to himself. 
 
 In the meantime it was agreed that the 
 matter of the forgery was to be kept as quiet
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 65 
 
 as possible — above all, that it should not be 
 allowed to get into the papers. Armitage had 
 just arranged ,this with the bank-manager 
 when, as he was leaving, he again encoun- 
 tered Mr. Gavin, who seemed glad to see him 
 accidentally, profiting by the opportunity to 
 ask him if every one in Firnie Knowe knew 
 of inquiries having been made about Maxwell, 
 the under-groom, and one or two others. 
 
 * No,' replied Hew, ' I do not think anyone 
 in my house has the least suspicion that any- 
 thing is wrong. Even my wife is quite ignor- 
 ant of the forgery, though by my inquiries she 
 may have thought I had mislaid a cheque, which 
 she probably soon imagined 1 had found, as she 
 made no subsequent remark.' 
 
 As the speaker went down the bank steps, the 
 detective looked after him, a momentary glance 
 of pity in his shrewd grey eyes, while under his 
 breath he muttered, 
 
 ' None so blind as them as won't see.' 
 
 The engrossing matters of detail of an ex- 
 ceptionally busy day kept Armitage from 
 thinking about the forgery, and everything 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 connected with it ; but when he got home 
 that evening he remembered his intention to 
 ask Mona about the pencil. Their physician 
 and friend, Dr. Steele, had dropped in to 
 dinner — a customary thing for him to do, as 
 he lived close at hand. After the two gentle- 
 men had finished their cigars in the smoking- 
 room, they joined Mrs. Armitage on the 
 verandah in order to have their coffee in her 
 company ; and while there a letter was brought 
 to Hew, after reading which, he asked his 
 wife in a low tone for her pencil, as if he were 
 desirous of making some memoranda. Mona at 
 once detached a silver pencil-case from her 
 watch-chain and handed it to him. 
 
 With a start which he could not quite conceal, 
 Hew discovered that it was devoid of the pencil 
 it was constructed to contain. Hastily making 
 some remark to the effect that he would be 
 back in a minute or two, he went into the 
 dining-room, and taking from his pocket the 
 cedar-wood pencil he had found in the summer- 
 house, he adjusted it to the silver case. It 
 fitted exactly. Looking closer at the pencil, he
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. G7 
 
 noticed a small scratch in the upper part of it 
 — a scratch that had evidently been worn by 
 frequent moving to and fro ; and immediately 
 afterwards he perceived in the case itself a 
 tiny jag in the metal, the probable cause of 
 the scratch in question. To make sure (and 
 Armitage now acted in a perfectly calm and 
 deliberate manner, and just as if he were 
 interested in solving some trifling perplexity), 
 he opened his penknife and pared down a pen- 
 cil of his own till it exactly fitted Mona's case, 
 and then, having rendered its surface quite 
 smooth, he inserted it. When he had satisfied 
 himself that it fitted as if made for the case, 
 he pressed the small knob on the outside, 
 and caused the pencil to project as far as it 
 could, repeating the performance two or three 
 times. On withdrawing the pencil, he found 
 it scratched in a manner slighter, but other- 
 wise identical with the one belonging to his 
 wife. 
 
 There is a time in some lives when it 
 seems as if a sudden breath of age had ob- 
 literated the bloom of maturity; and there 
 
 p 2
 
 68 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 are also occasions when this strange, anti- 
 cipatory blight descends for a few terrible 
 moments, only to pass away again, leaving no 
 perceptible shadow. Thus was it with Hew 
 Armitage. For some moments — not fleeting 
 seconds, as measured by the agony of the man's 
 heart — the blight of age seemed to come down 
 upon him. His face, reflected in a mirror, caught 
 his gaze, and he looked at it fixedly, seeing there 
 the face of a man with a haggard aspect, and 
 eyes in which some great grief not so much 
 brooded as lived. But with compressed lips he 
 fought down some agonising doubt, and by sheer 
 vigour of exceptionally robust moral fibre con- 
 quered that shadowy surmise which had sprung 
 almost into full and deadly embodiment. With 
 such conquest there must have emanated some 
 invisible spiritual radiance which banished the 
 gloom that had a few moments before darken- 
 ed and furrowed his face, for, when Hew stepped 
 out on to the verandah again, neither Mona nor 
 Dr. Steele saw reason to take notice of any 
 appearance of weariness or illness, though the 
 former did [let her eyes dwell lovingly on her
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 69 
 
 husband's face, noticing there, with the quick 
 sight of wifely affection, what a beauty occasion- 
 ally, as at this moment, illuminated Hew's some- 
 what stern features. 
 
 1 Mona dear, your pencil was not of much 
 use to me, for it only consisted r of the silver 
 case. You must have dropped the pencil itself 
 somewhere.' 
 
 i Oh, yes, of course I did. How stupid of me 
 to forget. I think I must have dropped it yes- 
 terday when I was out for a stroll, for in the 
 evening I missed it when I wanted to mark a 
 passage in a book I was reading.' 
 
 * Perhaps this was it : I found it in my pocket 
 just now, having evidently transferred it from 
 my other waistcoat.' 
 
 'Yes, it is; I'm glad you've found it, Hew. 
 It belonged to dear papa, though I doubt if he 
 ever used it. But where did you find it, for I 
 looked for it quite anxiously V 
 
 'I found it in the summer-house yesterday, 
 lying below the little table. I had dismounted 
 at the lodge and strolled up through the 
 wood, and something or other allured mo along
 
 70 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 the by-path that leads to the summer-house. 
 By-the-by, Steele, did you ever know how poor 
 Bunny meets his death at the hands, or rather at 
 the teeth, of the weasel-kind?' And Armitage 
 went on to narrate the incident of the rabbit 
 and the stoat, which had so much impressed him 
 the previous day. 
 
 He did not scrutinise his wife's face as he 
 told her where he had found the pencil, so 
 that his brief glance, ere he had addressed 
 himself to Dr. Steele, did not perceive that the 
 treacherous colour slowly ebbed from Mona's 
 face, and that her eyes were fixed upon him 
 with much the same look of fear as the rabbit 
 had first regarded the approach of its stealthy 
 foe. 
 
 But Dr. Steele noticed it, and it seemed to 
 him as if the expression of her face shadowed 
 forth such thoughts as — < What does he mean V 
 ' What does he know V Only seemed to do so, 
 the doctor meant, for, of course, not the shadow 
 of any suspicion crossed his mind, all the more so 
 from the fact that he knew of no cause for the 
 latter, neither Armitage nor anyone else having
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 71 
 
 said anything to him about the forgery. But 
 he was professionally very interested in Mrs. 
 Armitage. There was something about her he 
 could not quite fathom, and tills by no means 
 signified little, for Dr. Steele had been one of 
 the leading physicians in the kingdom, and 
 people had come to him in Edinburgh as one of 
 the greatest specialists living. For the last twenty 
 years he had confined himself to the study of ner- 
 vous disorders, and was considered a specialist on 
 all kinds of brain disease ; and it was while 
 gradually limiting himself to the treatment of 
 brain cases only that he caught his second attack 
 of rheumatic fever, an attack which so seriously 
 affected the vital organs, and especially the 
 heart, that he was advised — and knew himself 
 how good the advice was — to leave his absorb- 
 ing practice and live quietly in the country. 
 His son, who was almost as great a physician as 
 the father, took his place, and by no means 
 altogether regretfully the famous specialist left 
 Edinburgh and purchased a small property 
 adjacent to the Sidlaw Hills, and in the immedi- 
 ate neighbourhood of Firnie Knowc. Here he
 
 72 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 chiefly employed himself in writing an exhaust- 
 ive treatise on the various nervous disorders, in 
 visiting his friends, among whom none more 
 frequently saw him than the Armitages, in quiet 
 open-air exercise of different kinds, and in 
 occasional visits to Edinburgh and London, 
 when his services were implored in some ex- 
 ceptionally important and complicated case. A 
 tall, rather gaunt man of about sixty years of 
 age, with sparse grey hair tumbling roughly 
 over his high but somewhat narrow forehead, 
 large and coarse eyebrows bristling over the 
 keen grey eyes, aquiline nose, and broad, straight 
 mouth dominating the whole face — one felt at 
 once that he was not a man to waste time or be 
 trifled with. Despite his aspect, and the 
 wonderfully penetrating glance of his eyes, he 
 had the faculty of taking everything in without 
 staring his patient out of countenance, so that 
 many felt easier with him than they had ever 
 imagined they could have done when they met 
 him for the first time. 
 
 Armitage had already spoken to Dr. Steele 
 about his wife's strange fits of depression. At
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 73 
 
 first the latter had attributed them to natural 
 causes, and reminded Hew of the fact that, as 
 his wife would in due time become a mother, he 
 must not be put about by every trifling indis 
 position or fit of dejection that Mona ex- 
 perienced ; but later on he found little things 
 he could not quite explain. One day he even 
 took the trouble to find out from the late Mr. 
 Cameron's family doctor if he had ever known 
 or heard of anything mentally wrong in any 
 member of the family or its collateral branches, 
 but discovered only the unimportant facts that 
 Mr. Cameron had been a little eccentric and a 
 very passionate man, and that he had had a 
 cousin who had committed suicide, but under 
 what circumstances Dr. Steele's informant could 
 not tell him. Later on he learned from Hew 
 that the cousin had suffered from religious 
 mania, and had put an end to himself during an 
 attack of extreme dejection, and, moreover, that 
 the latter's mother had been subject to months 
 of depression at a time. 
 
 A peculiar furtive movement of Mrs. Armitago 
 had drawn his attention to her to-night, even
 
 74 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 before he had noticed her sudden paleness at 
 her husband's remark about having been in the 
 summer-house. But when he saw the latter he 
 felt inwardly relieved, for here, he argued to 
 himself, was an indubitable sign that Mrs. 
 Armitage had something tangible on her mind, 
 and no mere vague apprehension of some in- 
 definable trouble. What could it be ? he won- 
 dered, while apparently listening to what Hew 
 was saying : what could it be? Did he not know 
 Mrs. Armitage intimately, and did not his in- 
 sight tell him that her nature was a transparent 
 one, and that if she had harboured any guile it 
 would have reflected itself to any interested 
 observer as clearly as a deep pool contains the 
 image of the leafy branches which curve over it 
 from above. 
 
 A little later the two gentlemen became 
 absorbed in the discussion of some new political 
 change that was then passing like a storm-cloud 
 over the country, and Mona was left alone to 
 her thoughts. 
 
 She lay back in her cushioned wicker-chair 
 and looked dreamily out into the dusky gloom
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 75 
 
 of the night. The young moon had just risen, 
 and hung like a crescent of pale fire among 
 the black branches of the firs beyond the 
 lawn. Not a breath of wind blew, and there 
 was no sound save the faintest buzz of the grey 
 gnats, as they danced in small, gossamer-like 
 clouds below the swarthy boughs of the copper- 
 beech that rose almost beside the verandah to 
 the left. A trailing jasmine gave out its pungent 
 and exquisite odour. Mona's face grew paler, 
 and her strength seemed to ebb away imper- 
 ceptibly but rapidly. Right across the lawn 
 swooped a fern-owl, with that peculiar gurgling 
 sound which had given the bird the name it is 
 best known by, the nightjar ; and at the same 
 moment Hew looked round to see if his wife had 
 noticed the bird, whose cry she had often heard, 
 but whom he remembered her having said she 
 had never seen. Her face being in a deep 
 shadow he did not perceive how still she was, 
 but, even while his gaze was fixed on her, a 
 large brown moth flew awkwardly across her 
 face and got entangled for a moment amidst her 
 hair. She did not stir, and made not the least 
 semi-conscious movement.
 
 76 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ' Mona,' cried her husband, sharply, * are you 
 not well? Look, Steele, I'm afraid she has 
 fainted.' 
 
 Arinitage was much alarmed, but was soon re- 
 assured by his friend, who declared it was only 
 a swoon, and that Mona would come round 
 very shortly. Her husband took her in his strong 
 arms, and, lifting her into the drawing-room, 
 laid her on a couch. Two, three, five minutes 
 of suspense followed, wherein she made no sign, 
 and an anxious look came into Dr. Steele's keeu 
 grey eyes ; but at last she sighed gently, and 
 then her dreamy gaze was ^intercepted by her 
 husband's. Closing her eyes again wearily, she 
 murmured something in an appealing tone just 
 below her breath. 
 
 ' What did she say, Steele ? I could not catch 
 it.' 
 
 1 Oh, some incoherent words,' replied the doc- 
 tor, hurriedly, who had, however, distinctly heard 
 her words, faintly as they had been pronounced. 
 They were, * Forgive me, Hew' 
 
 In a short time Mrs. Armitage was sufficient- 
 ly recovered to be taken upstairs, and, by Dr.
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 77 
 
 Steele's advice, was left alone in the deep sleep 
 into which she had fallen. 
 
 * She is all right now,' he said, ' and had 
 much better be left alone. I should advise you, 
 Armitage, to sleep in the dressing-room to-night, 
 and you could leave the door open, so that if 
 Mrs. Armitage should awake and want anything 
 you would be at hand.' 
 
 The two friends had not long been seated 
 again on the verandah before Dr. Steele turned to 
 his companion and said, gravely, 
 
 ' Your wife, Armitage, is very far from strong. 
 She has had no serious worry of any kind of late, 
 has she ? And, excuse my asking you, my clear 
 friend, but has there been any little misunder- 
 standing between you, for in her present delicate 
 state the least thing would impress her too 
 strongly V 
 
 ' No, I am glad to say we have no misunder- 
 standing of the kind you refer to, nor do I 
 know of anything that could be a source of seri- 
 ous worry to Mona. Indeed, it was because of 
 the state of her health that I refrained from 
 telling her even the bare facts of a matter that
 
 78 THF SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 has been causing me the most serious anxiety of 
 late. Although 1 do not wish it talked about, 
 I will tell you, Steele, all about this most un- 
 pleasant affair — if, indeed, you have not heard of 
 it indirectly already V 
 
 On Dr. Steele's assurance that he had heard 
 no rumour of any kind affecting Armitage, the 
 latter proceeded to give a detailed account of all 
 that had occurred, and of all the puzzling fea- 
 tures of the case. Like most great physicians y 
 Dr. Steele had the power of the accomplished 
 lawyer to extract definite and essential in- 
 formation from the person to whom he might 
 be speaking, and, like the master- detective, of 
 getting to the root of the matter in hand with 
 as much thoroughness as possible. Listening 
 with great attention to his friend's account, he 
 every now and again broke in with some question 
 so much to the point that, by the time Armitage 
 had finished his narration, he was possessed of 
 as full and accurate information as Mr. Gavin 
 himself. 
 
 < What do you think of it, Steele ? Or do 
 you find it as impossible to form an opinion as I 
 do?'
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 79 
 
 After a moment's silence, the doctor replied 
 that he could not form an opinion as to the per- 
 sonality of the forger, but that he could not see 
 any way out of holding the belief that at any 
 rate the abstraction of the cheques was perpe- 
 trated by some one in the house. 
 
 ' As to the person,' he added, ' I can say no- 
 thing, of course. You seem to have complete 
 trust in your servants, and are, moreover, certain 
 that you never left your escritoire open save 
 when you were in the room, or were having 
 your morning or post-prandial smoke on the ver- 
 andah, a time, of course, wherein no one would 
 venture to commit the theft, for the double rea- 
 son that you see the whole room from where you 
 generally sit here, and that the abstraction 
 would be certain to be immediately noticed. 
 You are again sure that you never left it open 
 during your absence in Dundee? Yes. Well, 
 then, is Mrs. Armitage in the habit of occasionally 
 using the escritoire?' 
 
 'No, Mona's certainly not in the habit of using 
 it. That she has done so occasionally I know, 
 and I may tell you she generally puts all the
 
 80 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 important receipts we get into a drawer there- 
 in/ 
 
 ' Does she do so when you have returned from 
 business, or when V 
 
 4 Oh ! I don't know, I'm sure ; what does it 
 matter whether she puts them in during the 
 forenoon or the afternoon % By-the-by, I 
 never asked her with great particularity as to 
 whether she had used the escritoire lately, partly 
 because I knew that she was always careful 
 to close it again, but chiefly from my anxiety 
 not to let her see that I was worrying about 
 anything.' 
 
 Neither noticing Armitage's latter remarks 
 nor the tone of irritation in which his words 
 were expressed, Dr. Steele continued the ques- 
 tioning in the sequence of his thoughts. 
 
 ' But if your wife could put away the receipts 
 at any time, or write a note at your escritoire if 
 in a hurry, or to save going upstairs to her own 
 room or elsewhere, she must either have had 
 the key, or you must have left the folding-shelf 
 unlocked.' 
 
 ' Will you come into the room for a minute/
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 81 
 
 said Armitage, and, leading the way to the 
 escritoire, he lit the gas in a bracket beside it, 
 adding, ' You see how securely fastened the 
 escritoire is, yet the key is there if you only 
 knew where to find it.' 
 
 The piece of furniture was of oak, and was 
 curiously carved, especially along the upper 
 ledge. Although generally quick to discover 
 the whereabouts of secret drawers and] hidden 
 interstices, Dr. Steele found himself quite 
 puzzled, and after the most careful examination, 
 whereii his wandering fingers helped his skilled 
 eyes, lie was forced to acknowledge that he 
 could not find out the hiding-place. 
 
 Alon y the upper portion of the escritoire 
 ran a fanciful frieze of small carved leonine 
 heads. Shoving one of these up, Armitage 
 touche 1 what looked like a natural knob of 
 wood, ind immediately the third head along 
 the ledge to the right, sprang out an inch 
 or so, but enough to show that a narrow 
 drawe van straight in behind. In this lay the 
 key. 
 
 ' Cer aiuly a most ingenious contrivance, 
 VOI I. G
 
 82 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Armitage. Where did you come across this 
 escritoire V 
 
 ' Oh, we got it during our marriage trip on 
 our way home from Italy through Germany. 
 Nuremberg was the place. But what I brought 
 you here for was to show you that, although I 
 leave the key behind me, it is as safe, or 
 safer, than if I took it with me ; for I can 
 absolutely assure you, my friend, that its hiding- 
 place is as unknown to anyone in this house, 
 except Mona and myself, as it was to you 
 until a minute ago. It was owing to a fancy 
 of hers that I purchased the thing at first, and 
 we smilingly agreed that we would never put 
 the key away in sight of anyone, but keep 
 its hiding-place a profound secret. This Ave 
 have invariably kept to, and no servant or 
 anyone else has ever, to our knowledge, 
 witnessed either of us replacing the key. You 
 are the only person who knows our small secret, 
 Steele.' 
 
 By this time it had become a little chilly, 
 owing to that almost imperceptible dampness 
 which so frequently precedes rain, so the two
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 83 
 
 •gentlemen agreed to adjourn to the billiard-room 
 and have a game ere Dr. Steele's horse was 
 brought round to the door. 
 
 Armitage evidently concluded that the discus- 
 sion about the forgery, or at least the manner of 
 the abstraction of the cheques from the escri- 
 toire, had come to an end. As a rule he was no 
 match with his guest at billiards, but to-night 
 he found himself rapidly drawing ahead, the 
 latter, evidently preoccupied with his thoughts, 
 contenting himself with very indifferent play 
 indeed. 
 
 Hew thought he was deep in some profes- 
 sional problem which he had not had time to 
 work out that day during the few hours of study 
 the doctor allowed himself. As a matter of fact 
 the latter's thoughts, as his next remark showed, 
 were much nearer the subject they had been 
 talking of on the verandah. 
 
 ' To revert to the question of the escritoire, 
 Armitage. Granting that no one of the house- 
 hold or garden servants ever saw you or 
 Mrs. Armitage putting away the key in its 
 hiding-place, it is possible that some one else 
 
 g2
 
 84 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 did. You do not see very much company here y 
 I know, until the autumn comes round, but still 
 you have doubtless had several casual as well 
 as customary callers. It's a very unpleasant 
 thing to have to look with questioning eyes 
 upon anyone who has entered one's house as a 
 guest, but in a case like this it is only just to all 
 concerned to turn over every possibility in one's 
 mind.' 
 
 Without immediately replying, Hew touched 
 a bell by his side, and, when a servant ap- 
 peared, requested her to bring the visitors' 
 book. A few moments later this was in his 
 hands, when, handing it to his companion, 
 he remarked that the name of everyone who 
 called was invariably entered under the proper 
 date. 
 
 ' Look over the list for the last two months,' 
 he added, ' and tell me if there is a single name 
 you do not know, borne by anyone whom you 
 could not trust.' 
 
 It did not take Dr. Steele long to glance 
 over the not very long list, the only name 
 unfamiliar to him therein being that of Mr.
 
 A PUZZLING INCIDENT. 85 
 
 Browne, the chief clerk to the firm of Armitage 
 Brothers. 
 
 ' You are right. There is no one here whom 
 I could for a moment suspect, and, as for this 
 Mr. Browne, you say he is entirely reliable, and 
 that, moreover, he has never been alone in this 
 room. It's very strange altogether, Armitage. 
 It would seem as if it must have been 
 either you or your wife who took away the 
 cheques — accidentally, of course. Has either 
 of you ever walked in your sleep ? No ? 
 Well, really, I do not know what to think. 
 What does Mr. Gavin say? Does he hint at 
 anything V 
 
 'I don't know what he thinks, but he had 
 once the stupid insolence to vaguely hint that 
 my wife may have been under pressing neces- 
 sity for money to pay off some private debts. 
 Ass!' 
 
 'Ah, Mr. Gavin thought so too, did he?' 
 murmured Dr. Steele. 
 
 At this moment the latter's horse was an- 
 nounced to be at the door, and it was added 
 that the rain would soon be on. Hastily bidding
 
 86 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 his host good-night, and promising to see Mrs. 
 Armitage the next day, he rode off. Despite 
 the rain, which had now come down heavily, 
 the doctor let his horse go at a walk for a 
 great part of the way. When he reached his 
 house, the groom who led off the horse heard 
 his master exclaim, as if arguing with some 
 one, 
 
 6 Yes, but did he not say that Mr. Gavin 
 thought so, too ; and what did she mean by 
 that murmured, " Forgive me. Hew " V
 
 87 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 
 
 A week bad elapsed since the events detailed 
 in the last chapter, and yet not the slightest 
 clue had been obtained as to the person who 
 had forged, or at any rate abstracted, the 
 two cheques from Hew Armitage's escritoire. 
 Detective Gavin had been unable to discover 
 any debts incurred by Mrs. Armitage outstand- 
 ing in Dundee, but this was only what he had 
 expected, for he believed that the lady — if she 
 had any debts at all — must have got herself into 
 a mesh at Edinburgh, as in the former city she 
 would be too well known. It had become his 
 firm conviction that Mrs. Armitage was not only
 
 88 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 the abstracter, but the forger of the false draft, 
 but he did not think she had herself carried 
 the transaction through, believing that she had 
 an accomplice ; for, unknown to her husband, 
 Mr. Gavin had learned from the under-gardener 
 that once or twice Mrs. Armitage had been 
 seen walking in the wood with a gentleman 
 whose face was unfamiliar to the servant in 
 question. But, though he felt assured that the 
 lady was guilty, he was not at all certain as 
 to the cause of the crime. It might be debt; 
 it might be half-a-dozen other things ; and the 
 difficulty was to find out what the real cause 
 was. 
 
 'If only Mr. Armitage would give all the 
 assistance in his power,' thought the officer, ' I 
 would soon be able to put my hand on the 
 guilty party. I expect he already half fears a 
 scandal, and would prefer to let the matter 
 drop altogether.' 
 
 Mr. Gavin was quite mistaken about his 
 employer. Hew Armitage had not the least 
 idea of letting the enquiry fall through, but he 
 relied on some clue being unexpectedly found
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 89 
 
 ere long, perhaps even — considering how little 
 the matter had been talked of outside the per- 
 sons concerned — that the cheque No. x09,933 
 might yet be presented, if not by the forger, 
 at least by some one who might be the means 
 of the discovery of that personage. 
 
 As he had promised, Dr. Steele called the 
 following day to see Mona. He found her so 
 much better mentally as well as physically that 
 he was as much puzzled as he had been before 
 her fainting attack on the verandah. Whatever 
 suspicions he had entertained now lay dormant, 
 for they could not be said to have been quite 
 allayed. 
 
 1 It is impossible to believe her guilty,' he 
 said to himself, while with her. ' If she should 
 prove guilty she must be possessed of a greater 
 power of deception than any person I have ever 
 met, and that is saying a good deal,' he added, 
 as he rode homeward. 
 
 It was one of those important seasons when 
 Armitage was often detained very late in town, 
 and for some three or four days past he had not 
 reached Firnie Knowe until the late evening.
 
 90 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 As he had about a week of this close attention 
 to his business to look forward to, he would 
 have arranged to put up for that time at his 
 club in Dundee, had it not been for his renewed 
 anxiety as to Mona's health since her late faint- 
 ing attack. One afternoon, however, he had a 
 return of a kind of rheumatic headache which 
 had formerly troubled him a good deal, and as 
 the pain steadily increased, he determined to go 
 home some hours earlier than he had been 
 doing for the last few days. 
 
 When he reached Firnie Knowe his eye 
 caught the open visitors'-book on the hall table. 
 Glancing at the day's entry-space, he saw only 
 one name inscribed — 'Mr. Charles Leith' — a 
 name quite unfamiliar to him, and, he sup- 
 posed, belonging to some friend introduced 
 by some mutual acquaintance of Mona or 
 himself. 
 
 Entering the drawing-room he found no one 
 there, so supposed that the visitor had called 
 earlier in the day, but as he approached the 
 verandah by way of the conservatory, he 
 heard voices at the further end of the latter.
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 91 
 
 As his footsteps rang along the ironwork 
 of the pavement the voices ceased, but 
 as he turned into the fernery he saw his 
 wife and a gentleman seated on the wicker 
 sofa that stretched between two tall cabbage 
 palms. 
 
 Kising hurriedly, Mona seemed for a moment 
 confused, but mainly, as her husband inferred, 
 because of his unexpected appearance at that 
 early hour. 
 
 * You are not looking well, Hew,' she said. 
 6 Is anything the matter with you?' 
 
 6 Yes, I have one of those troublesome rheu- 
 matic headaches ; but, Mona, you are forgetting 
 to introduce me to your visitor.' 
 
 'Pardon,' answered Mona, lightly, but she 
 did not smile as she spoke. * Hew, this is 
 my old friend Mr. Charles Leith, who will be 
 glad to make the acquaintance of my hus- 
 band.' 
 
 While the two men shook hands, Armitage 
 realised that the man before him was the same 
 he had seen some time ago with Mona in the 
 fir-wood. With a stiffness he could not quite
 
 92 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 subdue he told Mr. Leith that he had fancied he 
 had seen him somewhere lately, and asked him 
 if he were residing in Dundee. As her husband 
 spoke, Mona's face became suffused with a quick 
 but transient flush, and her eyes had a startled 
 look as they fixed themselves on those of Mr. 
 Leith as if dreading what he was about to reply, 
 or perhaps to evade. Evidently to her relief 
 their visitor spoke out frankly. 
 
 * Well, I hardly think you can have seen me 
 before, Mr. Armitage, unless by chance you may 
 have seen me in Dundee, where I have been 
 staying off and on for a short time past, till my 
 visits in the North are all paid. I hoped to see 
 you when 1 was he re last, a week or so ago, but 
 unfortunately missed you. My old friend, Mrs. 
 Armitage, however, kindly showed me over 
 your beautiful grounds, and as it was a lovely 
 day I greatly enjoyed the stroll we had in 
 Firnie Knowe. I might have met you that 
 afternoon but that I took a fancy to return to a 
 friend I had left at Dunmuir by way of Firnie 
 Wood and over the Sidlaws.' 
 
 After this statement Hew's manner thawed
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 93 
 
 considerably. Some doubts he had experienced 
 had evidently been set at rest ; and bis wife, 
 quick to perceive this, became also less con- 
 strained. Mr. Charles Leith, however, was the 
 only one of the party who seemed quite at ease ; 
 and, as he spoke fluently on nothing in particu- 
 lar, Armitage had ample occasion in which to 
 scrutinise him. As tali as Armitage him- 
 self, but much slimmer in build, with a pale 
 olive complexion, smoothly shaven cheek and 
 chin, lustrous dark-brown eyes, and black 
 hair closely cut, Mr. Leith was undoubtedly 
 a good-looking man, especially when his fea- 
 tures were in repose. If he could not be called 
 handsome, it would only be because of his 
 expression when he smiled — a smile that was 
 wont to cause as much facial change as a dark 
 cloud does when, trailing rapidly before the wind, 
 it banishes the sunshine for a few moments, and 
 turns the brilliant glow that had lain upon the 
 landscape into a grey and gloomy monotone. 
 It was the least mirthful smile that could be 
 imagined, and though it was manifestly caused 
 by a malformation of the lips or mouth, not
 
 D4 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 noticeable in repose, the effect upon strangers 
 was invariably unpleasant. The eyes were of 
 that unfathomable brown which reveals nothing, 
 neither becoming illuminated by pleasure, nor 
 deepened by emotion, and emitting only a dull 
 sparkle in moments of exceptional excitement. 
 That Mr. Leith was aware of the effect his smile 
 was wont to produce was evident to all who 
 knew him, from the fact that he very rarely 
 allowed his lips to uncurl from his teeth. As 
 far as Armitage could judge, he would be about 
 thirty years old, but possibly as much as two or 
 three years younger. 
 
 More than once, finding Armitage's eyes curi- 
 ously fixed upon him, Mr. Leith at last asked 
 his new acquaintance if he thought he had seen 
 him somewhere. 
 
 ' No, I cannot say that I think I have met 
 you before ; but you put me in mind of 
 some one I have seen, but whom I cannot, by 
 any mental effort, recollect. Probably it may 
 be one of those indefinite resemblances that we 
 all find once in a way in total strangers. But
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 95 
 
 clo not rise to go yet ; our dinner-hour is close 
 at hand, and I am certain that my wife will 
 regret if such an old friend contents himself 
 with a formal call.' 
 
 The invitation was courteous and genial, 
 but both his wife and their visitor noticed 
 the unmistakable emphasis on the words ' an 
 old friend,' and the former glanced at the 
 latter appealingly, as if she hoped he would 
 decline. 
 
 Possibly Mr. Leith thought the glance be- 
 tokened that he should stay ; at any rate, he 
 expressed the pleasure he would have in 
 accepting the suggestion, and at once seat- 
 ed himself again. Looking at his watch, 
 Armitage exclaimed that it wanted nearly 
 an hour yet from dinner-time, and proposed 
 a stroll. Mona rose, as if to get her hat or 
 shawl, but her husband interposed with a 
 remark that she was to remember Dr. Steele's 
 advice, and lie down an hour or so before 
 eating. 
 
 6 But, Hew, I have not been out to-day except
 
 96 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 for a short stroll in the garden in the early fore- 
 noon, and surely you shouldn't be going out 
 again with one of those dreadful headaches 
 imminent.' 
 
 ' The warm air will do me more good than 
 harm, Mona, and my head won't get any worse 
 for some hours yet, if it doesn't feel all right 
 again by that time. Go and rest now, dear, or 
 there will be two of us with headaches this 
 evening. Come, Mr. Leith, we will have a 
 stroll before dinner.' 
 
 As her husband returned to the hall to get 
 his hat and stick, Mona rose, and, going 
 close to her visitor, said, hurriedly, in a low 
 tone, 
 
 * Why did you come here like this, and why 
 do you stay now that you are here ? You must 
 be mad.' 
 
 'No, ma chere, I'm not mad. "Very much the 
 reverse, I should say,' and Mr. Charles Leith's 
 unpleasant smile darkened rapidly over his 
 delicate face. ' Ah, here comes Mr. Armitage.' 
 
 The latter and his guest strolled through the 
 flower and fruit-gardens, and ere long arrived
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 97 
 
 at the door by which Armitage had before seen 
 his wife and his present companion take leave 
 of each other. Entering the disused glass- 
 house, he lifted the key from the place he had 
 deposited it, and then, the door having been 
 opened, the two entered the wood by the little 
 by-path. Two or three times Armitage felt 
 Leith's eyes fixed on him suspiciously, but, 
 taking no notice of this, he led the way to the 
 little summer-house. Coming on it abruptly as 
 they did, it was quite natural for Hew to say, 
 in a tone in which one mentions some casual 
 remark, 
 
 < Ah, this little ramshackle erection is a place 
 my wife and I used occasionally to come to. 
 But we have not been here together for a 
 long time past. But perhaps you came this 
 way the time you were here before?' 
 
 For a moment Mr. Leith seemed nonplussed, 
 but after a perceptible hesitation ho replied 
 that it must have been the same, as he remem- 
 bered having been in some summer-house some- 
 where in Firnie Wood. 
 
 'What a strange coincidence,' Hew went on, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 in a coldly balanced tone, ' for it so happened 
 that on the very afternoon in question I left 
 my horse at the lodge and strolled in this 
 direction, for the first time for some months. 
 I must just have missed you by a few moments, 
 I expect.' 
 
 Again a swift, sidelong glance betrayed that 
 Mr. Leith was suspicious of something, but he 
 seemed to be master of that invaluable rule — 
 when in doubt say nothing. 
 
 For some time past Armitage had debated in 
 his mind as to his right to draw out any informa- 
 tion from his guest relative to the acquaintance 
 of the latter with Mona, and had come to the 
 conclusion that he was hardly justified in so 
 doing ; but something in his companion's man- 
 ner, perhaps his frequent and stealthy glances, 
 made him change his intention. 
 
 ' Did you think my wife looking stronger or 
 not from what you remember her ? For I sup- 
 pose it is a long time since you saw her V 
 
 6 No, Mr. Armitage, I cannot say she is look- 
 ing so well.' Then, seeing a pained look come 
 into his companion's face, Mr. Leith went on, with
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. D9 
 
 what a third person might have seen to be very 
 enjoyable malice, 'And she has lost that bright, 
 happy look she used to have. I used to think 
 I had never met anyone who so much enjoyed 
 the mere act of living.' 
 
 Armitage winced, but kept to the point. 
 
 ' It must have been some years ago that you 
 knew Mrs. Armitage, otherwise I could hardly 
 have failed to have met you, or at least to have 
 heard of you; for, if you will excuse my saying 
 so, I cannot recollect having heard my wife or 
 any of her friends ever mentioning your name. 
 Doubtless you have been abroad V 
 
 c Yes, I've knocked about a good deal. Don't 
 you think continental life unsuits one for the even 
 flow of British respectability % It always strikes 
 me that there is an air of stagnation brooding 
 over everything in this country.' 
 
 4 1 have not noticed it,' responded Armitage, 
 icily, ' though I have been much abroad myself. 
 I am afraid 1 am one of the respectable Britons 
 who would meet with your denunciation, Mr. 
 Leith. There is no doubt much that we might 
 learn from some other nations, especially, in my 
 
 II 2
 
 100 THE SPORT OF CHA.NCE. 
 
 opinion, from those of the south, but there is 
 much that we are decidedly better without. In 
 this country the adulterer meets with no sym- 
 pathy, and, though the law forbids a wronged 
 husband to himself take revenge, public opinion 
 never severely condemns a man who knows 
 how to repay the seducer.' 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then 
 Armitage resumed, with unexpected and intense 
 emphasis. 
 
 ' If I were in the place of such a man, I 
 would shoot the traitorous hound as I would a 
 tiger.' 
 
 Though Mr. Leith had striven to divert the 
 conversation from the subject of Mrs. Armitage, 
 he did not seem to quite like the turn it had 
 now taken. In a half-laughing tone he said, as 
 he turned away his head, 
 
 6 Ah, yes, of course, to be sure. But then, you 
 know, we never hear now of anybody shooting 
 anyone else in England.' 
 
 'Perhaps because less reason is given for such 
 an act. But, to return to what we were saying, 
 I did not catch what you said about the time
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 101 
 
 you knew Mrs. Armitage, when she looked so 
 much happier as well as stronger.' 
 
 ' Oh, well, Mr. Armitage, you must not take 
 my words quite seriously, for you know how 
 apt we all are to confuse things as they were 
 with things as they are. When we return to 
 our native village after years spent in London 
 or Paris, it's sure to seem to us neither so large 
 nor so beautiful as it was in our boyhood's 
 days.' 
 
 t Ah, then it is the lapse of time alone that 
 has caused you to find Mrs. Armitage so much 
 fallen off in strength and good looks,' said Hew, 
 drily. ' It must surely have been quite in your 
 boyhood that you knew her, for to my eyes (preju- 
 diced though they doubtless are) she has done 
 the reverse of fall off in one or the other, except 
 within the last month or so, when she has not 
 been so well as usual. I suppose it was about 
 ten years ago that you were acquainted with 
 each other V 
 
 Armitage felt that he was pressing his visitor 
 in a manner which was hardly courteous, yet he 
 was determined to gain some succinct reply,
 
 102 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 even if he had to go the length of demanding 
 the information in the most "unequivocal way. 
 This, however, he was saved doing. 
 
 ' Ah, let me see. Yes, it must be just about 
 ten years since I knew Miss Mona Cameron. 
 Dear me, what a lot of things have happened 
 since I used to see so much of her in Edinburgh. 
 She was only a school-girl then, but how 
 evenly her life has since pursued its course. As 
 for me, 1 have been quite an exile for many years/ 
 
 A great relief seemed lifted from Armitage's 
 mind, and he became somewhat less reserved in 
 his manner towards his companion. 
 
 Hearing the sound of the dressing-bell, they 
 returned by the short cut whence they had come,, 
 but Hew found his wife already in the drawing- 
 room, and had not, till after their guest had 
 left, an opportunity to ask Mona one or two 
 questions upon which he was particularly 
 anxious to hear what she would have to say. 
 He found Mona very unresponsive, but she 
 excused herself by saying that she felt fatigued, 
 and that she thought she would retire to her 
 room at once.
 
 MR. CHARLES LETTH. 103 
 
 1 Is Mr. Leith a very old acquaintance, Mona?' 
 asked her husband, taking no notice of her last 
 words. 
 
 ' Yes, Hew ; I told you we were old friends.' 
 
 'It must have been a considerable length 
 of time before our marriage that you were 
 intimate.' 
 
 ' Oh, we knew each other as children, for that 
 matter. But you know how apt we are to be- 
 come indifferent to our childhood friends, and 
 this is perhaps the reason why I have never 
 mentioned his name to you.' 
 
 Mrs. Armitage did not say this naturally ; on 
 the contrary, she spoke with such manifest 
 restraint that her husband noticed it at once. 
 
 ' And how long is it since you have seen him, 
 Mona r 
 
 ' I saw Mr. Leith last close upon three years 
 ago. That is, preceding the first time he called 
 here, for I have always omitted to tell you, Hew, 
 that he was here once before when you were 
 away.' 
 
 'I am quite aware of that fact, though his 
 name was not on the visit ors'-bo ok.'
 
 101 THE SPORT OP CHANCE. 
 
 The strange, startled look came into Mrs. 
 Armitage's eyes again, but passed away as her 
 husband went on to say that Leith had himself 
 informed him of the fact. Looking up after a 
 moment's absolute silence, she found Hew's gaze 
 fixed upon her intently. 
 
 'You are certain, Mona,' he said, coldly and 
 slowly, 'that you had last met Mr. Charles Leith 
 about three years ago?' 
 
 6 Yes, I happened to meet him three or four 
 times about that period.' 
 
 ' By-the-by, dear, were you at school in Edin- 
 burgh V 
 
 6 No, Hew ; but why do you ask V 
 
 ' Simply because of a curious inconsistency 
 between what you have just said and what your 
 friend Mr. Leith told me. He informed me that it 
 was ten years ago since he last saw you, and that 
 when he met you it was when you were a school- 
 girl at Edinburgh.' 
 
 f Then he stated what was not true, and I can- 
 not conceive'why he should have done so, except 
 out of pure inadvertence. Are you sure he did 
 not speak absently, or as if in answer to some
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 105 
 
 question the import of which he did not fully 
 gather V 
 
 His wife's answer and the tone seemed to 
 reassure Armitage, and it was with a sigh of 
 relief that Mona saw him thaw from his perhaps 
 unconscious iciness. 
 
 6 One word more, dear, and then we can 
 leave the subject alone. Do you value his 
 friendship — I mean, do you look upon him 
 as a friend whom you would regret not to see 
 again?' 
 
 ' 1 do not say that I would never care to see 
 him again, Hew, but at the same time I should 
 not only not object, but would prefer that he 
 did not come here any more. There are old 
 associations which make it difficult to actually 
 break with him. For one thing, I knew his — 
 his — sister intimately.' 
 
 ' Indeed, how strange that I have never heard 
 you speak of Miss Leith as well as of her 
 brother?' 
 
 ' No, because she married some time ago, and 
 I have never corresponded with her since. But 
 I do not think Mr. Leith will come here again,
 
 106 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 for he told us himself at dinner that he was going 
 abroad again immediately.' 
 
 8 Well, I shall not conceal the fact from you 
 that I am very glad to hear it. I have not taken 
 a fancy to Mr. Charles Leith, and have no desire 
 to make his further acquaintance ; of course I 
 should not have said this had I thought you 
 really valued his friendship.' 
 
 And so the discussion as to their late visitor 
 dropped between them, and the subject was not 
 again referred to till a week or two later. One 
 day, towards the end of this period, Armitage 
 had occasion to be in Edinburgh. He had 
 transacted his business, and had entered the 
 Clarendon Cafe in Princes Street to get some 
 lunch. He found himself almost alone, and after 
 a little became absorbed in his newspaper, and 
 was only vaguely conscious of the fact when 
 two gentlemen came to a small table near him. 
 The two new-comers began to speak earnestly 
 in low tones, and paid no attention to the cog- 
 nac and seltzer which the waiter had brought 
 them, but they might have risen again and 
 departed without Armitage's taking any notice
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 107 
 
 of the fact had his ear not suddenly caught the 
 name of his firm mentioned. Looking up 
 quickly, he could only see the face of one of the 
 two men, a face which he did not recognise ; so 
 he fancied he was probably mistaken. As the 
 two rose to leave, he heard the one whose face 
 he had not seen say to his companion, 
 
 4 You clear out, and it will be all right. It's 
 the devil's own risk your staying here, Murdoch : 
 and, if you weren't such a fool, you would know 
 it. I don't pretend to be anxious on your 
 account, but I am on my own.' 
 
 Armitage did not hear the reply, but he re- 
 cognised the voice of the man who had just 
 spoken, and in a narrow mirror opposite, at the 
 moment the two passed it, he saw the delicate 
 features and' hateful smile of Mr. Charles Leith. 
 His first thought was to follow them, but, 
 muttering to himself that he did not wish to have 
 anything more to do with Leith, he re-seated 
 himself. Surely the words he had just heard 
 would admit of no other than an unpleasant in- 
 terpretation 1 What did they refer to 1 Was 
 it possible that they had some connection with
 
 103 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 the mysterious forgery 1 — and Armitage started 
 as he recollected having heard, or fancied he had 
 heard, the mention of his firm. No, surely this 
 could hardly be. Mr. Leith had never been in 
 his house alone ; but wait, was he quite sure of 
 this ? i Supposing for an instant this man was 
 the person who had stolen the bank cheques, 
 was it not possible that he had been announced 
 at Firnie Knowe at a moment when Mona was 
 writing at the escritoire, and that the latter had, 
 perhaps unwittingly, closed it and replaced the 
 key in the secret drawer within his view ? He 
 might have realised the importance of this fact, 
 and also noticed how easy of access the room 
 was from the gardens, and therefore from 
 Firnie Wood behind. And yet what nonsense 
 to speculate thus — for, supposing that he had 
 abstracted the blank drafts from the cheque- 
 book, how was he, a perfect stranger, to forge 
 the signature with such practised exactitude as 
 almost to deceive the chief person concerned 
 himself? These thoughts succeeded each other 
 in Armitage's mind, and, though he became 
 -satisfied that his surmise was so improbable as
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 109 
 
 not to be tenable, he yet felt uneasy at what 
 he had overheard, and wished Mr. Leith and his 
 affairs had never come under his cognisance at 
 all. 
 
 6 1 thought he was going abroad at once, too,' 
 he muttered. c I wish I was not going on to 
 London this evening, for though I shall be at 
 Firnie Knowe in a day or two again I feel 
 quite put out at the idea that that man may turn 
 up there during my absence. After what I have 
 overheard, I would not have the least hesitation 
 in letting him see that we could dispense in 
 future with the honour of his visitations. I 
 think I had better drop a line to Mona and 
 warn her. And yet no ! It's perhaps better to 
 say nothing about it at all at present.' 
 
 Armitage a few hours later was in the mail 
 train for the south. As it rushed through the 
 darkness, he leaned his face against one of the 
 windows as if he could see something through 
 the night. A growing uneasiness had come 
 upon him, and he wished he were home again. 
 This forgery and all that had taken place since 
 its discovery had seriously affected him. Ex-
 
 110 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 oeptionally self-reliant and accustomed to decide 
 everything by the exercise of his unaided 
 judgment, he now felt all the more the irritation 
 and perplexity of the mental maze into which 
 he had involuntarily been led. At last, tired 
 out with his thoughts as much as by physical 
 fatigue, he fell into an uneasy doze. Naturally 
 he dreamed, and naturally his vagrant fancies 
 hovered like moths round the central flame of 
 his present trouble. After a time it seemed to him 
 that-he saw his wife lying on the sofa in the morn- 
 ing-room at Firnie Knowe ; she was very pale, 
 but seemed restfnlly asleep. Gradually her face 
 took on a troubled look, and she shivered as if 
 a draught of air had reached her ; and here 
 Armitage in his dream thought he saw the 
 French window blow open with the light 
 wind, and wriggling in at its base and over 
 the rug and in the direction of Mona a 
 treacherous-looking snake. He could not cry 
 out, though it glided closer and closer to her, 
 and was now almost upon her. At last she gave 
 a wild cry, and even at the moment that Hew 
 sprang forward to rescue her he awoke with
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. Ill 
 
 the prolonged scream of the engine as the train 
 neared a station, and t found that he had been 
 dreaming. 
 
 Children are told that when their ears burn 
 they may be sure some one is speaking of them 
 at that moment. No doubt ears burn from 
 much more immediately physical causes, but 
 there is none the less an element of truth in the 
 popular saying. It is certain that two minds 
 in sympathy can at certain moments and under 
 special circumstances directly influence each 
 other, though a great distance may intervene. 
 When this faculty becomes a voluntary and 
 really potent factor, it is known as the mes- 
 meric influence. When it is vague and un- 
 consciously exemplified, it is not called any- 
 thing at all, but is none the less a fact of 
 life. 
 
 Whether her husband's dream, or rather- 
 the actively memorious state of his mind dur- 
 ing the dream, affected Mona or not it would 
 be rash to assert, but quite possibly it did 
 so. 
 
 She had been sitting in the drawing-room
 
 112 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 with a lady, who had come as a guest 
 the same morning; but the latter, who was 
 somewhat of an invalid, had retired early. 
 Remembering that a letter had come for her 
 husband which he had expected, and asked to 
 be sent to him, she went into the adjoining 
 morning-room and readdressed the envelope of 
 the letter that was lying on the table. 
 
 Having had several household accounts sent 
 in, she thought she would take this opportunity 
 of checking them with those which had last been 
 settled, and, opening Hew's escritoire, she took 
 the package from its place and began her 
 comparison. She had not been at all well, 
 for some days, and her husband's departure 
 for London, though only for two or three days, 
 had not tended to make her more cheerful. 
 She felt strrangely depressed, and though — 
 i unknown to Armitage — she had had cause for 
 this hitherto, there was now no reason there- 
 for. Her head, also, which had been trou- 
 bling her for some time past, soon caused her 
 to grow weary of the account-checking ; 
 so, thrusting the papers aside and locking
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 113 
 
 up the escritoire, she went over to the 
 couch-sofa whereon she spent much of 
 each forenoon, and, lying down, closed her 
 eyes. 
 
 The evening was sultry and unpleasantly 
 still. The sheet lightning quivered in sudden, 
 tremulous flashes, turning the black branches 
 of the firs into momentary ashen grey, and dis- 
 turbing the thrushes and other birds, as they 
 huddled close under the leaves, with fitful 
 gleams of an unreal dawn. Though the room 
 in which Mona lay was filled with the lamp- 
 light, the occasional flashing of the lightning 
 could be seen through the uncurtained win- 
 dows. She noticed this vaguely when now and 
 again she opened her eyes for a brief space, 
 but was glad when she heard the patter of 
 a few drops of rain, always the most wel- 
 come sign on such a night. Softly the 
 rain continued to fall, and she could just hear 
 the soft plash it made as it dripped from the 
 over-heavy blossoms of the lilac on to the 
 mass of green leaves beneath. Everything 
 was so still and quiet, and the rain had to some 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 extent so modified the oppressiveness of the 
 atmosphere, that Mona gradually became 
 drowsy, and would soon have been asleep, but 
 that a sensation of being looked at suddenly 
 caused her to feel wide-awake. She saw no- 
 thing, however, though the blindless windows 
 had an eerie look to her perturbed nerves. 
 What was Hew doing, she wondered. Was he 
 asleep, or reading, or thinking of her? Was 
 he — and with a sudden, unaccountable chill 
 she slightly opened her eyes, but without 
 moving. Her glance was fascinated in a 
 moment by what she saw at one of the long 
 windows. Pressed close to the glass was 
 a white face, with vivid eyes fixed steadfastly 
 on herself. The rain that had fallen against 
 the pane seemed to blurr the face to her vision, 
 but made it more horrible to look upon owing 
 to an appearance of something unnatural which 
 it gave to it. The eyes seemed to burn out 
 of an ashen countenance, and the latter had 
 the look as if it were passing away in drops of 
 rain. 
 
 Mona's face was as pale as that of the
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 115 
 
 vision she looked on, but she made neither 
 sound nor motion, being as spell-bound as 
 the bower-bird when the carpet-snake fixes 
 its eyes upon her as she sits in her nest. 
 Slowly a white hand came out of the dark- 
 ness, close to the face, and seemed to beckon 
 to the person within, or perhaps to feel if 
 the window would open with pressure. The 
 very act of motion broke the spell over Mona, 
 for with a loud cry she fell back fainting. 
 Almost instantaneously one of the men-ser- 
 vants, who had been fastening the front-door, 
 entered the room in evident alarm, but, before 
 he had quite crossed the threshold, the face at 
 the window had vanished. 
 
 When Mrs. Armitage came to her senses 
 again, she could not be absolutely certain 
 whether she had not been only dreaming; but 
 in any case she felt that she had received a 
 severe shock, as was indeed evident to those 
 around her. When she had been put in her 
 bed, the footman and the butler took a lantern 
 and together examined the ground outside the 
 windows of the morning-room. They hardly
 
 116 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 expected to discover anything, because the turf 
 came close up to the house, and there had not 
 been enough rain to render it sufficiently damp 
 to long retain the impression of any foot- 
 marks, unless left by hob-nailed, heavy boots. 
 Nor did they in the uncertain light discover 
 anything until one of the men perceived the 
 impression of a boot-sole on the stone ledge of 
 the window, and almost hidden from sight by a 
 broken lilac-branch. Beyond ascertaining that 
 their mistress's fancy had some other basis than 
 imagination, they learned nothing else, except, 
 indeed, the fact that the intruder could not have 
 been a country bumpkin, for the impression was 
 that of a foot almost small enough to belong to 
 a woman. 
 
 It was also afterwards ascertained that Mr. 
 Carston, a neighbouring small farmer, had been 
 returning to his house late the same evening, 
 that he had taken a short cut through Firnic 
 Wood, and that he had been startled to see a 
 man leap over the garden wall of Firnie Knowe 
 and disappear through the wood in an opposite 
 direction to that in which he was going.
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 117 
 
 Dr. Steele was very much surprised when, 
 the following morning, he was awakened an 
 hour or two before the time when he was 
 usually summoned; but when he heard that 
 it was on account of the sudden illness of Mrs. 
 Armitage he lost no time in getting ready, 
 and ere long rode up to the door of Firnie 
 Knowe. 
 
 He found his patient in a brain-fever. 
 
 Armitage was of course telegraphed for, and 
 he arrived on the morning instead of the even- 
 ing of the day on which he had arranged to 
 return. He was terribly anxious about his 
 wife ; anxious not only because of the danger 
 in which she lay, but also on account of what 
 could have caused Mona to succumb to such 
 a complaint as brain-fever. Dr. Steele ex- 
 plained it by stating that he had noticed her 
 as being nervously unstrung for some time past, 
 and that the fright she had received two even- 
 ings ago had brought things to a sudden and 
 severe climax. While considering the case a 
 grave one, he gave Armitage the small con- 
 solation that the attack, while violent, would be
 
 118 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 short, and that, having the inestimable advan- 
 tages of youth and a good constitution on 
 her side, there was every reason to hope that 
 she would get over it all right. At the same 
 time Hew perceived that Dr. Steele was himself 
 very anxious. Before he left, to return in a 
 few hours, he addressed himself again to his 
 friend, but spoke hurriedly and under some 
 restraint, as if he had wished there had been 
 no reason for such a remark as he had to 
 make. 
 
 'You will understand, of course, Armitage, 
 that your wife's mind is at present a perfect 
 jumble of odds and ends of realities and -wild 
 imaginings, and that absolutely no attention 
 need be given to what she says.' 
 
 ' I understand,' replied Hew, gravely. 
 
 There was no need, as it turned out, of Dr. 
 Steele's precautionary words, for throughout 
 the brief but violent course of the fever Mona's 
 exclamations were so incoherent and so incon- 
 sequent that nothing could have been gained 
 from them. Once or twice, however, her lips 
 murmured of her husband, and the intense
 
 MR. CHARLES LEITH. 119 
 
 ardour of her tone filled Hew's heart with an 
 exquisite gladness, so that, in the midst of 
 his sorrow and anxiety, he felt the blessed 
 assurance that not even the faintest shadow 
 had come between the sunlight of their mutual 
 trust and love. 
 
 While everyone else was anxious, Mr. Gavin 
 was puzzled. He had obtained a new clue, 
 which promised not to be without result, and he 
 felt peculiarly desirous of learning something of 
 the present whereabouts of a certain Mr. James 
 Murdoch.
 
 120 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 A MONTH had passed since Mrs. Armitage had 
 been stricken down by her attack of brain-fever. 
 Her illness had proved dangerously severe, but 
 had lasted little over a week ; nevertheless the 
 succeeding weeks of prostration proved even 
 more difficult to rally from than the insidious 
 disease itself. Far from satisfactory as her 
 present state was, it was aggravated by the 
 condition in which she was otherwise, for she 
 expected to become a mother in about three 
 months' time. 
 
 Nothing had yet been found to prove who 
 the person was who had abstracted and forged 
 the cheques. As Mr. Gavin said to Armitage—
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 121 
 
 < It's a puzzling case, sir, but I've struck a 
 little zig-zag path, which, so to speak, may yet 
 lead to the robber's cave in the centre of the 
 wood. No, sir, I can't tell you anything yet, 
 and you must take my word for it that you 
 wouldn't be a bit the wiser if I did conduct 
 you to my zig-zag path.' 
 
 Mr. Gavin made a great mistake here, for if 
 he had taken Armitage into his confidence 
 about ' the party of the name of Murdoch,' as 
 he phrased it at the head-office, he would have 
 learned an additional fact to what he already 
 knew, which would have almost certainly led to 
 the detection of a person who might at any rate 
 have been able to throw a flood of light on the 
 mysterious incident. A few words more and the 
 whole tenor of Armitage's life would have been 
 different from what it proved ; but, as these few 
 words were never spoken, he turned away from 
 the officer, unknowing that at that moment 
 another link had been added to the chain which 
 was about to wind itself around his life. 
 
 It was a happy day for both Armitage and 
 his wife when the latter was strong enough to
 
 122 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 foe taken out for a drive. Both felt as if re- 
 covery were now a settled thing, and Hew 
 realised how great had been his anxiety and 
 his dread. They had never spoken about the 
 subject of the person whom Mona had seen at 
 the window on the night she was taken ill, Dr. 
 Steele having told Armitage that, as likely as 
 not, it would unduly excite her, but now he felt 
 that they could safely talk it over. While she 
 told him all that had occurred, his dream in the 
 train came back vividly to him, and he was 
 much struck by the coincidence — a matter, how- 
 ever, to which he did not draw Mona's attention 
 at the time. 
 
 ' I asked Dr. Steele about it afterwards, Hew, 
 but he said that in all probability I had ima- 
 gined it ; but we afterwards ascertained, or 
 rather he did, at the time, and I on my recovery, 
 that some one really had been there/ 
 
 * You didn't recognise the face, I suppose V 
 
 1 No — oh, no ; I am sure I did not recognise 
 it.' 
 
 ' You speak hesitatingly. Did recognition of 
 it come later on V
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 123 
 
 Mona hesitated a little before replying, and 
 then said — 
 
 6 Well, I have fancied two or three times it 
 was like the face of Mr. Leith, but, as we had 
 been talking about him just before I was ill, it 
 is quite likely that my half-reminiscence is 
 purely imaginary. How stupid I am ! — of course 
 it could not have been he under any circum- 
 stances, for you know he was going abroad 
 immediately.' 
 
 Armitage was just about to tell her of his 
 glimpse of Mr. Leith in Edinburgh, but re- 
 frained. Without consciously doing so, he 
 acted upon the proverb, ' Let sleeping dogs 
 lie.' 
 
 September arrived, and with it Mona gained 
 greatly in strength. As it was a slack time with 
 his business, Armitage was able to indulge in 
 his favourite partridge-shooting, and spent the 
 afternoon of at least every second day in tramp- 
 ing over the fields with or without his friend, 
 Dr. Steele. One day early in the month he 
 joined his near neighbour, Lord Ratho, and 
 set forth to get some grouse-shooting on
 
 124 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 the purple slopes of the Sidlaws where they 
 rise beyond the highest reach of Fimie Wood. 
 After some very fair sport, Armitage noticed 
 that his friend seemed very fatigued, and 
 accordingly suggested a rest, to which 
 Lord Katho assented with every sign of 
 exhaustion. 
 
 The latter was so far refreshed by luncheon 
 that he insisted on resuming his gun, much 
 against the wish of Armitage, who saw that his 
 host was far from well, and who had noticed 
 how wildly he had been shooting. The second 
 covey had just been started, when Lord Ratho 
 fired into the air, and fell forward in an apo- 
 plectic seizure. Mr. Armitage was much dis- 
 tressed, and, having directed the keepers to 
 carry their master to the nearest farm-house till 
 he was sufficiently recovered to be taken home, 
 he took a short cut over the Sidlaws and by 
 way of Firnie Wood to obtain Dr. Steele's 
 valuable assistance. 
 
 By the time he was half-way through Firnie 
 he recollected that it was just about the hour 
 the doctor generally called to see Mona, and
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 125 
 
 that he had accordingly better turn his steps in 
 the direction of his own house than of the 
 Cedars. The nearest way now was to go by the 
 orchard entrance where he had many weeks ago 
 seen Mona take leave of Mr. Leith. 
 
 He did not reach it by the high winding path 
 that led from the summer-house, but by another 
 that suddenly branched to it from the thickest 
 part of the wood. 
 
 As he had directed this door to be always 
 kept locked, save when any of the gardeners 
 expected to be continuously passing out and in, 
 which only happened very rarely, he was sur- 
 prised to find that it gave way with a slight 
 pressure, and he was still more surprised when 
 he saw the key in the outside lock — that is, 
 facing the wood. 
 
 ' What stupid carelessness,' he muttered, as, 
 removing the key, he locked the door from the 
 inside, and proceeded to the disused glass-house 
 to hang it up on the nail inside, where it was 
 supposed to be usually kept. 
 
 He started as ho entered the old glass-house, 
 and stared before him as if he had seen a ghost.
 
 126 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 There, in its usual place, hung the key of the 
 door by which he had just entered, and with 
 the worn-out label attached to it. Looking at 
 the one in his hand, he saw that it had no rust 
 on it, and that it had all the appearance of 
 having been little used. 
 
 * 1 must find out what this means,' he said to 
 himself, as a frown darkened over his face. 
 ' It may mean something serious, but in any 
 case my men know I allow no duplicate keys. 
 As soon as I've sent Steele to Lord Ratho, I'll 
 find out to whom this key belongs, how long 
 he or she has had it, and for what purpose it is 
 used.' 
 
 Instead of going across the open fruit-gardens, 
 he took a by-path that led through a thick 
 screen of laurel and box, and as he arrived 
 within a few yards of the spot where the left 
 fork of it curved round to issue upon the lawn 
 in front of the drawing-room, he caught the 
 sound of music coming from within the room, 
 and so guessed that Dr. Steele must either have 
 gone or had not yet paid his visit. The next 
 moment, through a gap in a sweeping spurge-
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 127 
 
 laurel, lie saw a gentleman standing on the lawn 
 outside with his eyes fixed on the open window 
 of the room, as if uncertain whether to advance 
 closer or not. The music ceased, and Mona 
 crossed the room and pulled down the blind of 
 one of the side windows, through which too 
 strong a flood of sunshine was streaming, and, 
 having done so, returned to the piano again, 
 evidently without having caught sight of the 
 figure to her right standing on the lawn. The 
 latter raised his arm in a beckoning attitude, but 
 seeing that Mona had not seen him, advanced 
 a few steps, still hesitatingly. As he did so, 
 Armitage issued quietly from the narrow laurel 
 avenue, and advanced towards the stranger 
 from behind, his footsteps making no sound on 
 the soft, yielding turf. 
 
 He had recognised Mr. Charles Leith. 
 
 So intent was the latter in his scrutiny of the 
 drawing-room windows, that he heard nothing 
 till he felt a touch on his shoulder. 
 
 Swinging hastily round, his pale face grew a 
 shade paler as he noticed who it was, and the 
 expression that lay on Hew's face.
 
 128 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 1 Good afternoon, Mr. Charles Leith,' said the 
 latter, with extreme deliberation, and in a tone 
 of the most icy politeness. 
 
 ' Ah, Mr. Armitage, how do yon do ? De- 
 lighted to see you,' stammered Leith. ' I 
 thought I heard voices in the garden, so came 
 hither, thinking to find you and your wife 
 strolling about.' 
 
 If Mona had not been playing she would, of 
 course, have heard their voices on the lawn, but, 
 as it was, she heard nothing. 
 
 ' Will you step this way, if you please,' con- 
 tinued Armitage, ' I have a few words I wish 
 to speak to you ;' and, so saying, he led the way 
 to that portion of the garden which was in- 
 visible from the drawing-room or morning-room. 
 
 An evil look crossed Leith's face as he follow - 
 -ed, but when the two men faced each other 
 again he was calmly polite and indifferent in his 
 manner. 
 
 'In the first place, sir, I may inform you 
 that Mrs. Armitage has been very unwell 
 indeed, partially owing to a fright she re- 
 ceived from some intruder who, with some
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 129 
 
 evil intent, I am convinced, had been lurking 
 about outside the house. I may have my sus- 
 picions as to who this personage was, but I 
 need not dwell upon the subject at present. 
 Sufficient that Mrs. Armitage is not yet strong 
 enough to receive visitors.' 
 
 I Certainly not, Mr. Armitage. You are quite 
 right. But of course an old friend like my- 
 self is different, and I am sure that, if you 
 tell her I am here, she will express a wish to 
 see me.' 
 
 I I have no intention of telling Mrs. Armitage 
 that you are here. In a word, sir, I may tell 
 you that she, as well as myself, feel ourselves 
 under the unpleasant necessity of letting you 
 know that we consider a further acquaintance- 
 ship undesirable.' 
 
 A dull flash gleamed in Leith's unfathomable 
 brown eyes, and a red spot burned for a mo- 
 ment on either cheek. 
 
 ' I do not believe that Mrs. Armitage has ever 
 expressed herself. And I am sure that for her 
 sake I regret your having such a jealous 
 temperament.' 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ' Your sneer has no effect upon me, sir. 
 There are some men from whom I would resent 
 such an insult as you have just given expres- 
 sion to. Coming from you, I confess, it bears 
 no weight.' 
 
 Leith's glance shifted uneasily from side to 
 side in exactly the way as do those of a beast 
 of prey when confronted by some obstacle of 
 fear or suspicion. He seemed hesitating as to 
 what to say next, perhaps what to do next, and 
 at least a minute's silence intervened before he 
 spoke again. 
 
 ' 1 consider your words and implications in- 
 tolerable, Mr. Armitage. At the same time, I am 
 ready to believe that you must have some other 
 reason than personal feeling. I am sure that 
 Mona ' 
 
 1 1 will trouble you, Mr. Leith, to call my wife 
 Mrs. Armitage.' 
 
 'Mrs. Armitage, then,' resumed the latter, 
 with a polite bow and sneering face ; ' 1 am sure 
 that Mrs. Armitage ' 
 
 ' Excuse me again interrupting you, but I 
 can assure you that Mrs. Armitage is no more
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 131 
 
 desirous than I am of retaining the honour of 
 your acquaintance.' 
 
 ' Damn you, you will answer for this. And if 
 you refuse to give me satisfaction I will pro- 
 claim you everywhere as a coward, and, more- 
 over, as a jealous coward.' 
 
 ' No,' responded Armitage, calmly and sternly, 
 6 1 will not give you the satisfaction you refer 
 to — in the first place, because I think duelling 
 barbarous and unmanly; and in the second 
 place, because, if I did so far forget myself as 
 to engage in a duel, it would only be if my 
 opponent were a gentleman. No, Mr. Leith, 
 you need not raise your arm threateningly. You 
 might get the worst of it, you know, and then 
 my gardeners or grooms might take a fancy to 
 duck you in the horse-pond. Ah, I see you think 
 discretion the better part of valour. Then as to 
 your proclaiming me a coward or anything else, 
 I think it would be as well if you were to 
 keep yourself as quiet as possible. Supposing 
 I were to repeat my suspicion of a certain 
 transaction between you and your friend Mr. 
 Murdoch ?' 
 
 k2
 
 132 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 This chance remark of Armitage's hit the 
 mark in a way that nothing else he could have 
 said would have done. Leith grew deadly pale 
 and seemed literally to shrink, and it was only 
 when, with quick natural insight, he inferred 
 that his companion had only a glimmering of 
 something wrong, that he was able by a great 
 effort to compose his features again. 
 
 ' I cannot conceive what you refer to. 
 Your sudden, vague accusation, coupled with 
 the name of a person I do not know, has 
 quite taken me aback. Who is Mr. Murdoch, 
 pray V 
 
 ' Mr. Murdoch was the person to whom you 
 confided the generous remark that his pre- 
 sence in the country was the devil's own 
 risk, and that you were, while not the least 
 anxious on his account, very much so on your 
 own.' 
 
 In a moment Leith recollected where he had 
 said this, and also realised that these were the 
 only words he had been incautious enough to 
 speak above a whisper. There also flashed 
 across his mind a memory of a person having
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 133 
 
 been at a table close to himself and Murdoch, 
 but whose face he had not seen owing to a 
 newspaper in which the person in question 
 was immersed. 
 
 * Ah, I remember now. You must have been 
 in the Clarendon Cafe, in Edinburgh, on the 
 day I was there last. I met there, by appoint- 
 ment, my cousin, Murdoch Harrison. He went 
 to the dogs a year or two ago, and lately joined 
 the army as a recruit. He had not been there 
 long before he had a row of some kind, bolted 
 from York (where his regiment was stationed), 
 and turned up at my rooms in Edinburgh, where 
 he had traced me from having seen me in 
 Princes Street. He told me some cock-and-bull 
 story, which I was foolish enough to believe ; 
 at any rate I rashly helped him to evade 
 capture. But when I found he had no in- 
 tention of leaving Edinburgh I determined 
 to let him see that he could expect nothing 
 more from me, and thus it was I came to speak 
 to Murdoch Harrison as I did at the Clarendon 
 €afe.' 
 
 The absolute assurance with which Leith
 
 134 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 spoke, and the swift self-control which had 
 enabled him to change his air of dismay into 
 one of matter-of-fact, staggered Armitage, even 
 while he instinctively disbelieved every word 
 that his companion had just spoken. Knowing 
 nothing material he determined to have a part- 
 ing shot with the same kind of dart that had 
 wounded before. 
 
 ' Ah, the person to whom I referred was not 
 your cousin, Mr. Murdoch Harrison/ he said, 
 drily, ' but plain Mr. Murdoch. I did not say 
 that the occasion referred to constituted my only 
 acquaintance with your friend and yourself. 
 But now, sir, I must wish you good-day, and I 
 trust that for your sake, as much as my own, we 
 will not meet again.' 
 
 Something in the manner in which Leith 
 shot a swift glance behind him ere he turned 
 haughtily away caused Hew to start with a 
 sudden surmise. 
 
 1 May I return you your key of my garden- 
 door, Mr. Leith? I am afraid you inadvertently 
 left it in the outside ; perhaps you were in a 
 hurry, or thought it safer there V
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 135 
 
 For a moment Leith's unpleasant smile gave 
 that cynical, evil look to his face which it 
 customarily did. Then, saying simply, ' Your 
 last insult is rather far-fetched, I think,' he 
 turned to go. 
 
 •Mr. Leith!' 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' Did you or did you not use this key to gain 
 access to my grounds V 
 
 ' I really cannot say whether that is the key 
 or not, though I presume it is if you say so. 1 
 certainly reached Firnie Knowe by the wood, it 
 being at once my pleasantest and shortest way. 
 I thought I would take the chance of the door 
 being open, and, though I did not find it so, I 
 noticed the key in the lock, and so let myself in. 
 Naturally I left it where it was, as I fancied 
 one of the gardeners or some one must have left 
 it there on purpose against his or her return from 
 the wood.' 
 
 Had this man the gift of perfect lying, 
 thought Armitage, or was he really unjustly 
 suspected 1 No, he was an accomplished liar, 
 he thought.
 
 136 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 i 1 do not believe you. But in any case I may 
 tell you that the door will in future be barred 
 up.' 
 
 ' What a pity for Mona ! She will miss her 
 short cut to the wood.' With a wicked smile, 
 Leith turned away, and walked down the broad 
 avenue to the main road. 
 
 Armitage's first impulse was to spring after 
 him, and give him the lesson he needed, but, 
 checking himself, he stood still and watched the 
 retreating figure of his late companion. Just 
 as the latter was about to disappear round the 
 bend in the avenue, after which the house 
 was lost to view, he turned round, and, look- 
 ing not at Hew but at one of the windows, 
 waved his hand with a gesture of familiar fare- 
 well. The blood rushed to Armitage's face, as 
 he recognised the implied insult, but, as at the 
 very moment he heard Mona still playing, he 
 contented himself by smiling bitterly at Leith's 
 empty malice. 
 
 The most searching inquiry about the dupli- 
 cate key only served to convince him that his sus- 
 picions as to its ownership were correct. What
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 137 
 
 could Leith have wanted with it, and how did he 
 get it made % He must have abstracted the usual 
 key at one time, and got another made identically 
 the same. Yet to have done this he must have 
 had some definite object in view. What could this 
 object have been % That Leith had had anything 
 to do with the matter of the forgery Armitage 
 could not bring himself to believe, the number of 
 improbabilities far exceeding the single vague 
 possibility. But was there anything else in or 
 about the house which he was anxious to find 
 out or obtain *? If not, then it must have been 
 his desire to see Mona privately ; and for what 
 reason ! Had he some secret to confide to her 
 and to talk over — had there been something 
 between them at one time — had he a belief that 
 he could alienate her love from her husband, 
 either by the force of old associations, or by the 
 charm of his present self? 
 
 He was getting wearied of this air of mystery, 
 he said to himself; and he mentally determined 
 that when once their child was born, and Mona 
 had gained strength again, he would take her 
 abroad for a time, and see if change of air
 
 138 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 would shake all these mental vapours away. 
 
 After the events just narrated, the days went 
 smoothly on, and nothing was seen or heard of 
 Charles Leith. Dr. Steele was no longer 
 anxious about Mrs. Armitage's physical health, 
 but he was urgent that she should have abso- 
 lutely nothing to mentally distress her, as there 
 was great fear that her brain, being still her 
 weakest part, would be the first thing that 
 would be seriously affected. He did not tell 
 Armitage, but he felt very doubtful as to what 
 would happen after the child was born. Hew 
 was happier and more hopeful, and the forgery 
 matter troubled him less — still as aggravating a 
 mystery as ever, it had become less dominant 
 in his daily thoughts. 
 
 As for Mr. Gavin, his clue had not yet led 
 him to the heart of the mystery, but his sus- 
 picions were greatly strengthened by an anony- 
 mous letter he received, which ran thus : 
 
 ' If Detective Gavin is anxious to solve the 
 mystery of the forged cheque signed " Armitage 
 Brothers." he will save time and trouble if he 
 will concentrate his faculties of observation a
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 13$ 
 
 good deal nearer Firnie Knowe than Edinburgh. 
 This hint is given him by one who knows the 
 truth, and is anxious to see it come to light, but 
 who is so placed as to be absolutely unable to 
 afford any further or more definite information. 
 Detective Gavin can do as he likes with this 
 hint, or he may treat it in the manner with 
 which anonymous communications in general 
 should be dealt, but the writer can again warn 
 him that if he neglects it he will simply be 
 wasting his time/ 
 
 The post-mark of this communication was 
 Dundee, and for reasons best known to himself 
 Mr. Gavin came to the conclusion that it was a 
 piece of genuine information. At the same 
 time he determined to pursue his inquiries in 
 Edinburgh a little further before returning. 
 
 Mona had again become restless and depressed, 
 but, as her physical strength did not decrease, 
 her husband was not rendered specially anxious. 
 One fresh October morning, as he made ready 
 to ride away to the station, he noticed with 
 keen delight how much brighter was the light 
 in her eyes, and how much stronger she seemed.
 
 140 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 He had not felt so securely happy for many 
 weeks past, and throughout the early part of 
 the day he remained in this condition. Shortly 
 after two o'clock, as he was finishing an im- 
 portant letter, a telegram was brought to him. 
 Having signed the letter, he opened the thin, 
 brown envelope, while he gave some directions 
 to the clerk who was standing by his side, and 
 in a moment the latter saw him grow deadly 
 pale, the colour ebbing away even from his lips. 
 Without a word Armitage hastily left his office 
 and drove with all speed to the station. The 
 telegram form had fluttered on to the floor, and 
 with natural curiosity the clerk took it up and 
 read it ; the words ran simply : 
 
 ' Come at once ; an accident has happened ; 
 and the sender was Dr. Steele. 
 
 After luncheon Mona had gone out for a 
 drive. The fresh autumn air revived her, and 
 she felt that mild exhilaration which comes to 
 those who are forced to be much indoors when 
 once they get surrounded by a rapid current of 
 keen air. Skirting the Firnie woods, already 
 seeming sombre and dark in contrast with the
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 141 
 
 glowing foliage of the beeches, oaks, limes, and 
 chestnuts, the carriage rolled rapidly along, 
 and Mona caught many of those delightful 
 glimpses with which every country ramble or 
 drive is replete. In the frequent meadows 
 patient cows stood, the breath in the frosty air 
 hanging in visible clouds of vapour above 
 their nostrils; here and there were groups of 
 Highland cattle, brown, long-haired, and shaggy, 
 and with huge horns, the use of which the 
 gentle black-brown eyes belied. At frequent 
 intervals along the wayside hung great trailing- 
 snowy masses of the traveller's-joy, and in the 
 hedge-rows the robins and the finches were 
 already being tempted by the abundant plenty 
 of scarlet hips and haws. The air seemed able 
 to transmit sound to an exceptionally long dis- 
 tance. Deep in the beechwoods over the meadows 
 to the right Mona heard a blackbird singing loud- 
 ly and continuously his broken autumnal song, 
 with that electric thrill in its note which is the 
 essence of bird-music; and from every moor- 
 land patch that supported a few clumps of gorse 
 or whin or heather came the sweet familiar cry
 
 142 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 of the yellow-hammer. Far away, from some 
 village hamlet, resounded faintly the barking of 
 a dog, and now and again swelled upon the air 
 "the lowing of milch cows, or the tinkling of 
 sheep-bells as the old wethers guided the flock 
 from dewy hollow to sloping down, and from the 
 downs to more barren declivities which yet held 
 patches of sweetest hill-grass between the rib- 
 like spurs of grey trap. As the carriage passed 
 the woods that formed the southern boundary of 
 Lord Ratho's estate she noticed how they had 
 taken on almost a monotone of dull gold ; here 
 and there, indeed, was a touch of crimson, of 
 russet, and even of vigorous green, but the great 
 mass of colour was of orange-yellow. Above 
 these, or rather above some russet-toned beeches 
 further in, Mona caught a glimpse of a hawk 
 hanging motionless in the sky; it seemed to 
 poise there without effort, neither ascending nor 
 descending — more like some sky-flower that 
 had its sustenance only in the air, and that, 
 rootless, was drifted about by every passing 
 wind above, but never down upon the green 
 earth below. As Ratho Hill was surmounted,
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 143 
 
 the Tay valley was seen in all its beauty, never 
 lovelier than in the autumn. Then swiftly 
 the horses, recognising their homeward direc- 
 tions, dragged their not very heavy weight 
 after them, and soon they had reached the 
 summit of Duoluiart Rise, whence Firnie 
 Knowe lay two miles away beyond its fir- 
 woods. 
 
 Some gipsies had been hanging about the 
 neighbourhood for an hour or two past, having 
 probably heard at Firnie Lodge or elsewhere 
 some particulars about Mrs. Armitage, and 
 being desirous of making something by a 
 pleasant prophecy. But they had chosen their 
 place badly, for it was behind a bend of the 
 road, while still in the slope from Dunluiart 
 Rise, so that under any circumstances a carriage 
 could hardly have been drawn up at that point. 
 Possibly the gipsies had anticipated this, how- 
 ever, on the ground that they would be better 
 able to run after the carriage if it should show 
 no signs of stopping. As it drew near the bend 
 in the road the coachman rashly omitted to put 
 down the drag, and with a heavy swing the
 
 144 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 carriage spun round the corner. At the same 
 moment a couple of wild-looking figures 
 sprang towards it on either side, apparently 
 right out from the thick-leaved hedgerows; 
 against one of them the carriage swung, and 
 the swarthy Gitani was hurled back in the 
 hedge. With a wild snort one of the horses 
 reared and fell, struggling so frantically that its 
 neighbour was dragged also down at the same 
 moment that the carriage reeled heavily and 
 fell to the side with a crash. The coacbman, 
 who had been precipitated into a dry ditch to 
 the left, sustained no damage, and was able to 
 see to liis mistress at once. Mona, lying beside 
 the carriage, apparently alive and unhurt, 
 seemed to the man to have escaped by a 
 miracle; but when he found that his utmost 
 endeavours to restore her to consciousness failed 
 he became much alarmed. 
 
 The gipsies were looking on with a curious 
 dull gaze, bewildered apparently by the sud- 
 denness of the catastrophe ; but, seeing the plight 
 of the lady, one of them, the fortune-teller of 
 the company, came slowly forward and knelt
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 145 
 
 beside Mrs. Armitage. Taking the latter 's head 
 in her lap, she opened her eyelids, but found 
 the orbs glazed and expressionless, when, hast- 
 ily calling out some Zingari phrase to an old 
 woman, she began rubbing her hand backward 
 and forward over Mona's left breast. In a 
 minute or less the old woman came up with a 
 small clay bottle, taking which in her hand the 
 fortune-teller placed it to Mona's lips, and forced 
 some of the contents into her mouth. No 
 effect, however, was produced. Seeing this the 
 woman sprang to her feet calling out to the 
 coachman — 
 
 ' I thought she was only in a bad faint, but 
 I'm thinking she must have struck her head 
 against the hard road or against the wheel as 
 she fell. It may bring her trouble on, poor 
 thing, so the sooner she's at home the better. 
 What shall we do V 
 
 Peters, the coachman, had stood awkwardly 
 by while the woman was endeavouring to restore 
 his mistress, but the moment he was appealed to 
 he became clear-sighted and alert. 
 
 'Look you, mistress, you're a kindly-like wo- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 man, so I've no hesitation in leaving poor Mrs. 
 Armitage in your care for a bit. One of these 
 horses is no use, Fm afraid, hut I'll take the 
 other and ride in at once to Firnie Knowe, and 
 bring out the phaeton to take my mistress home 
 in. And if that lad of yours there will strike 
 across the fields to the Cedars and tell Dr. Steele 
 to come at once he will do us a good turn, which 
 won't he forgotten, I promise you.' 
 
 Peters wisely restrained his natural indigna- 
 tion against the gipsies as the chief, if not the 
 sole, cause of the mishap, deferring expression 
 of this till he had got Mrs. Armitage safely 
 home. 
 
 In as short a time as possible he was back 
 again with the phaeton, into which Mona, still 
 insensible, was gently laid, the gipsy woman 
 sitting by her side ; and when they reached the 
 house they found Dr. Steele awaiting them. 
 A moment's glance showed the doctor how seri- 
 ous the case was, so he sent off a messenger at 
 once with a telegram to Armitage. When Hew 
 arrived at Firnie Knowe he was met at the door 
 by Dr. Steele. The latter's face was very grave,
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 147 
 
 but he put as favourable a light as he could on 
 the case as he narrated the particulars. 
 
 'No, my boy, it would not do for you to see 
 your wife at present. I may tell you that I ex- 
 pect she will be in travail to-night at latest.' 
 
 6 But she is conscious, isn't she V 
 
 ' No, Armitage. It is my duty to tell you 
 that I fear there is something else to contend 
 with. She has had concussion of the brain from 
 striking the road or the wheel of the carriage as 
 she fell.' 
 
 ' But she will recover ! For God's sake say 
 she will get over it !' 
 
 ' She has youth and a fine constitution on her 
 side, so we must hope for the best. I can say 
 nothing more.' 
 
 A long and wretched afternoon this proved to 
 Armitage. He walked about from room to room 
 like a restless animal ; inside, the stillness seemed 
 insupportable — outside, the glare of the daysliine 
 was maddening, and the cries of the robins 
 shrill and aggravatingly insistent. In one of his 
 short, aimless garden excursions his wandering 
 gaze was arrested by a small snail which was drag- 
 
 L2
 
 148 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ging itself and its shelly home over a ripe peach 
 that hung low against the brick wall. What 
 beauty and delicacy there was in the shell, 
 strange that he never noticed it before — thus 
 he thought ; but stranger still is that faculty of 
 mind which causes the most strained attention 
 to be concentrated for a moment on some trifling 
 object, a concentration which will so fix the 
 object in the mind that the latter will remain a 
 remembered fact when all the grief or perplexity 
 in which it was noticed has become vaguely 
 unreal or absolutely forgotten. 
 
 At last the day passed into twilight, and night, 
 there being no moon visible, seemed to come 
 sooner than usual. 
 
 Wearied, Armitage dropped off into a doze as 
 he lay back on the couch of his smokiug-room. 
 He had no idea how long he had been uncon- 
 scious when he awoke with that sensation of some- 
 thing strange or unpleasant having happened, 
 or being about to happen. The lamp in the room 
 had burned low, and there was an oppressive still- 
 ness throughout the house. Finding his solitari- 
 ness no longer supportable, he passed out of the
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 149 
 
 room and went upstairs. He met no one till he 
 reached the corridor, where were the rooms of 
 his wife and himself. Then suddenly he heard a 
 faint, thin crying issuing from the chamber 
 wherein Mona lay, and knew that another child 
 had been born into the world. 
 
 While he stood in the dark hesitatingly, the 
 door opened, and Dr. Steele came forth. Tak- 
 ing Hew's arm, he walked away from the 
 corridor, and until they reached the smoking- 
 room not a word passed between them.
 
 150 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 When Dr. Steele and Armitage reached the 
 smoking-room, the former noticed that his com- 
 panion's face was deadly pale, and that he was 
 evidently bracing himself up to meet some 
 unexpected shock. 
 
 ' A child has been safely born, and the mother 
 has not succumbed, as I half feared.' 
 
 1 Thank God for that ! But I see you have 
 something more to tell me. Do not keep me in 
 suspense.' 
 
 * Well, my dear friend, I fear that your wife 
 has sustained some mental injury owing to the 
 fall. In ordinary circumstances the concussion 
 she received would not have proved very serious,
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 151 
 
 but in the present instance it has entailed very 
 serious results. She may throw the injury off 
 in a short time.' 
 
 ' Do you mean that Mona's mind is deranged V 
 
 s It is unhinged, and the evil will manifest 
 itself in a special way/ 
 
 1 Do speak more clearly, Steele !' 
 
 ' I fear that for a time you must not expect 
 to see her. Some strange and unaccountable 
 freak has caused her to regard you with feelings 
 either of great fear or great dislike. I know 
 how easy it is to say so, but you must be 
 patient, Hew, my boy. It will pass away in 
 time, I have no doubt ; but in the meantime I 
 must assure you that I cannot answer for the 
 consequences if you enter your wife's room.' 
 
 'But what, in heaven's name, could cause 
 Mona to take such an extraordinary dislike to 
 me? When did this feeling manifest itself? 
 Surely it would disappear the moment she sees 
 me again V 
 
 6 1 have already told you it is one of those 
 strange mental freaks for which there is no 
 accounting. But it will comfort you to hear
 
 152 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 that more than one such case has occurred in 
 my own experience, and that in each instance 
 the patient regained her mental equilibrium as 
 soon as her physical strength was established. 
 But you must not think of such a thing as ven- 
 turing into her room on the chance that she 
 might experience a revulsion of feeling. It is 
 my conviction that such a course would either 
 kill her or totally unhinge her mental faculties. 
 As for the time she first manifested this strange 
 state of feeling, it was when she recovered her 
 consciousness after the accident. She knew 
 that her child was about to be born, and, think- 
 ing that it would be pleasant to her to hear, I 
 mentioned that you had been telegraphed for 
 and would be here immediately — an announce- 
 ment which, to my consternation, she received 
 with every sign of excited aversion. No, you 
 must just have patience, Armitage, and trust 
 that all will come right in the end.' 
 
 This new trial was hard to bear, yet, now that 
 he knew Mona's life was not in danger, Armitage 
 realised how greatly he had dreaded her illness, 
 and the revulsion of feeling enabled him to look
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 153 
 
 with more equanimity on an unpleasant state of 
 things which, however, he felt assured, would 
 only be temporary. Their child was a girl, and 
 seemed in no way to have suffered from the 
 shock of the carriage accident ; but it was with 
 feelings more akin to pain than pleasure that 
 Hew at times took the little thing in his arms, 
 for he could not help feeling that she was the 
 material symbol of that which kept husband 
 and wife at present apart. He saw little of her, 
 however, but was satisfied when he heard that 
 it was because Mona grew restless and unhappy 
 when her babe was long away. They did not 
 tell him that she could not bear the idea that 
 the child was in his arms. 
 
 In vain Dr. Steele endeavoured to find if by 
 any possibility there was some real cause for 
 any misunderstanding on the wife's part, but 
 only with the result that he became thoroughly 
 convinced that Mona's head had been affected 
 by the shock of the accident, and that she had 
 taken this extraordinary dislike on account of 
 some strange derangement, which he could not, 
 in the meantime, see his way to affect. He
 
 154 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 knew that this partial derangement might go as 
 suddenly as it had originated, but, on the other 
 hand, that it might develop into an engrossing 
 idea as irremovable as the most confirmed form 
 of monomania. 
 
 A week had passed, and Armitage had not yet 
 seen his wife, or, rather, she had not seen him 
 — for, overcome by his longing to look on her 
 dear face again, he had ventured into her room 
 one night when assured by the nurse that Mrs. 
 Armitage was asleep. Mona had dozed gently 
 again while holding her baby in her arms, 
 and she looked more beautiful than Hew had 
 ever thought her before. But even if he had 
 not promised the nurse to remain only a few 
 moments, he could hardly have controlled him- 
 self to remain quiet during a longer period, for 
 the tears of love and pain burned in his eyes, 
 and he felt that if only Mona would waken and 
 look upon him her strange illusion would pass 
 away at once. But, with the remembrance of 
 Dr. Steele's emphasised warning, he knew that 
 he must risk nothing.
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 155 
 
 A month dragged wearily on for Hew Armi- 
 tage. He heard daily good general reports as 
 to the health of mother and child, but even Dr. 
 Steele no longer dared to mention his name to 
 Mona, on account of the fearfully excited state 
 it threw her into. 
 
 One day he broached the subject suddenly, 
 so that her nerves might not be unstrung by 
 the unpleasant process of his feeling the way. 
 
 ' My dear friend,' he said, ' you must listen 
 to what I have got to say to you. As your 
 physician, I am bound to tell you that your 
 carriage accident is responsible for a slight and 
 temporary mental derangement, which takes 
 the form of a most painful hallucination. You 
 know that I speak of your present feeling to- 
 wards your husband. Now, in the first place, 
 you ought to take my word for this — then, if 
 you find that in your present state your hallu- 
 cination (for hallucination it is, in spite of your 
 gesture of dissent) proves too strong for your 
 resolution, I think it is your duty to tell me 
 on what grounds it is based, and to what it 
 points. Remember, I am not asking you to
 
 156 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 see Hew at present, nor will I so endeavour, 
 until I knew the time has arrived when it can 
 be done without hurting you ; but you must see 
 yourself that the present state of affairs is 
 impossible of continuance for any length of 
 time.' 
 
 1 Yes, it is impossible,' replied Mona, quietly. 
 Beyond a steadily-growing paleness, and a just 
 perceptible nervous tremor about the mouth 
 while Dr. Steele was speaking, she seemed quite 
 composed. 
 
 ' Well, do not you believe my word that you 
 are labouring under an hallucination V 
 
 ' I believe that you believe so.' 
 
 < Is that all V 
 
 6 Yes. You speak according to your know- 
 ledge ; 1 act according to mine.' 
 
 * You know that you may trust me abso- 
 lutely, Mona Armitage. Tell me in what way 
 and on what grounds you are feeling as you 
 do.' 
 
 ' I can tell you nothing. Dr. Steele, I in- 
 sist on your not referring to this subject 
 again. If you do, I will have to decline see-
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 157 
 
 ing even you, and you must know how deeply 
 I should regret being forced into any such 
 course.' 
 
 Mona had scarcely finished speaking ere her 
 voice broke in wild sobs, and, throwing herself 
 back on her sofa, shook as with some despairing 
 agony. 
 
 After this Dr. Steele determined to let her 
 hallucination die a natural death, which he felt 
 assured it would do if she were not confronted 
 with her husband in the meantime. 
 
 But as in the outer world there cannot be 
 great disturbances without the compressed 
 forces of Nature finding a safety-valve some- 
 where, in the whirlwind or the thunder or the 
 volcano, so it is in the smaller world of human 
 life. The dual current of Hew's and Mona's 
 married life had reached a point where it was 
 met with unexpected obstructions. If it evaded 
 or overcame these all might be well, but if the 
 difficulties proved too great the current would 
 be split into two, one perhaps passing into 
 waste marshes, and the other dashing headlong 
 over precipitous rocks into some deep chasm.
 
 158 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 The first day of approaching winter had ar- 
 rived, and the ground was white, even through- 
 out the sunny noon, with crisp hoar frost. Later 
 on the sky grew grey, and a few flakes of snow 
 began to fall. 
 
 When Armitage reached the little station 
 about five o'clock, it was already dark, and the 
 cold had become intense, though there were 
 symptoms that the sudden frost would evapor- 
 ate soon in a storm of wind or rain. He had 
 come by an earlier train than he had intended, 
 so neither his horse nor his drag was awaiting 
 him. However, the distance was not so great 
 but that he was rather glad of the opportunity 
 in which to walk off his weariness and ap- 
 prehension, if possible. But as he strode 
 along the Dunluiart Road his spirits, instead of 
 rising, fell lower and lower. There was some- 
 thing very depressing in this sudden wintry 
 gloom. Everything was silent, for the frost 
 had already become so far arrested that there 
 was audible nothing of that crackling which 
 is to be heard on even the stillest winter's 
 day when the ground is frozen. The robins,
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 159 
 
 sheltered in the hedges, sat close, and made 
 not even the faintest twittering. Armitage 
 realised that never before had he witnessed 
 the death-likeness of winter so strikingly mani- 
 fested. 
 
 In addition to the darkness, a thick mist had 
 risen from the low meadows that skirted the 
 road before its gradual rise to Firnie. Two or 
 three times Hew stumbled over some large stone 
 or heavy rut, and as the mist deepened into a 
 fog, that shut out the stars and prevented his 
 seeing a yard in front of him, he frequently 
 wished that he had not neglected to telegraph 
 for the dog-cart. 
 
 He was about the last man to succumb to 
 baseless superstitious fears, nor did such at 
 present beset him ; but he felt an almost intoler- 
 able depression, an apprehension which he could 
 by no effort shake off. 
 
 'A nice night in which to meet some des- 
 perate character,' he muttered, below his 
 breath, instinctively grasping his stick as he 
 did so. 
 
 The road at this point had been newly
 
 1(30 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 strewn with rough clinkers, so he left it for 
 the slip of turf that ran along the hedge to the 
 left. Along this he walked like a shadow, only 
 distinguishable from such by the dull light in 
 his eyes and the breath that hung before his 
 mouth. 
 
 Hark ! what was that ? In front of him he 
 distinctly heard a sudden sound like a foot upon 
 gravel. 
 
 Stopping, he listened intently. A minute 
 passed, and, no further sound making itself 
 heard, he advanced slowly. Again! Distinctly 
 the clinkers that were scattered along the 
 turfed side-path had been crunched by the foot 
 of some person — and this time quite close. Hew 
 had himself kicked aside a stone even as his ear 
 caught the sound of the second footstep, and 
 apparently the person in front of him had heard 
 it, for there was such an absolute stillness that 
 any except the most guarded footstep would 
 inevitably be heard. 
 
 Strangely enough, it did not occur to Armi- 
 tage that most probably the person in front of 
 him was some belated traveller, or possibly one
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 161 
 
 of the gardeners or other people in service at 
 Firnie Knowe ; his nervous system had been so 
 strained of late that even an ordinary incident 
 seemed to him pregnant with exaggerated 
 significance. Still, even allowing for this, there 
 was something unpleasant, if not actually alarm- 
 ing, in his present circumstances. In vain he 
 endeavoured to pierce the impenetrable veil 
 which night and fog had together wrought. He 
 felt convinced that some one was in front of him, 
 yet uncertain as to whether that person knew 
 of his proximity or not. Stepping forward with 
 such extreme caution that even his own foot- 
 steps were inaudible, he stopped abruptly as he 
 fancied he heard the sound of quick breathing 
 close at hand. 
 
 The mist grew denser still, so that he could 
 not see his own hands unless held close to 
 his face, and then only in shadowy out- 
 line. He realised how helpless a blind man 
 must be even in a locality with which he was 
 acquainted. 
 
 Another step and he stumbled over the 
 crouching body of a man, who at once 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 grappled with him in a sudden, speechless, 
 savage struggle. 
 
 Hew felt that his antagonist, if a smaller 
 man, was remarkably lithe and powerful. All 
 around brooded the deep fog, obscurer than the 
 most absolutely starless and moonless night; 
 not a sound came from roadside or meadow; 
 not an owl swooped through the dense atmo- 
 sphere ; not a dog barked in the distance ; not 
 a breath of wind stirred even a single withered 
 leaf. Not a sound either was emitted by the 
 two men who struggled there in the darkness, 
 save their panting breaths and the scraping of 
 their feet against the ground as they wrestled 
 with all their strength for mastery. At length 
 the superior force of Armitage gained the upper 
 hand ; but his opponent's powers of resistance 
 were too obstinate to give way even after the 
 ultimate result was inevitable. Hew realised 
 that if the latter had had an accomplice he himself 
 would have stood no chance of his life ; as it 
 was he was taxed to the uttermost to clench his 
 victory. 
 
 Slowly he bent the man backward, then with
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 163 
 
 a sudden twist hurled him to the ground, and 
 held him there with an iron grasp on his throat, 
 while he knelt on either arm so as to prevent the 
 man snatching any weapon from his belt. He 
 had conquered at last, but how was he to find 
 out who his opponent was, 
 
 ' Who are you V he cried, hoarsely ; then 
 feeling that the man could not speak because of 
 his throttling grasp, he relaxed his hold on his 
 throat. 
 
 ' Take your hands away from me, James 
 Murdoch, and don't add murder to your other 
 crimes.' 
 
 6 What the devil do you mean ? To whom 
 are you speaking?' 
 
 'I'm speaking to you, James Murdoch, and 
 you know well what I am saying.' 
 
 ' And who may you be, pray V 
 
 'My name is Gavin, and, as you proba- 
 bly know, it is that of a certain detective- 
 officer.' 
 
 ' Get up, and let us get out of this cursed 
 fog!' 
 
 Mr. Gavin did get up with amazing alacrity, 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 but, brave man though he was, he hardly dared 
 to pnt the handcuffs on his late opponent, know- 
 ing the fate he would almost certainly meet if 
 he did. But it was a mystery to him what 
 Murdoch meant, and how he risked keeping in 
 such company : it must be with some treacher- 
 ous design — was it to lead him towards some 
 quagmire, or perhaps deep pool, where a mur- 
 dered man might be thrown in with compara- 
 tive safety against discovery? Gavin did not 
 know the locality thoroughly, and there might 
 easily be such places, of which he had caught 
 no glimpse hitherto. What a fool he was not 
 to have brought that revolver ; but he felt com- 
 forted as by a stealthy search he found that his 
 large clasp-knife was in his pocket. Opening 
 this, he kept it in readiness, determined not to 
 be taken at a disadvantage. As his companion 
 vouchsafed no communication, he kept silence 
 also ; and so the two men walked silently on- 
 ward side by side for about half-a-mile. 
 
 Gavin was puzzled at their keeping to the 
 road, but was still more so when his companion 
 knocked at the door of a cottage, which the
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 165 
 
 former could only guess to be the lodge of 
 Firnie Knowe. 
 
 The wife of the head-gardener opened the 
 door, and in the sudden flood of light the de- 
 tective, to his intense amazement, beheld Hew 
 Armitage in place of the James Murdoch with 
 whom he imagined he had been struggling. 
 
 i Give me that lantern there, Susan. It's 
 so thick that I can't see my way up the 
 avenue/ 
 
 Had he been a little less excited or preoccu- 
 pied, he would have noticed that the woman 
 was in tears, and that she looked at him 
 strangely. Gavin noticed this, and as soon as 
 they had left the lodge he spoke. 
 
 'I wonder what's the matter with the gar- 
 dener's wife, sir. Did you see that she was 
 crying, and that she looked at you strangely V 
 
 ' My good friend, fancy being astonished at 
 a woman being in tears ! And, as for her look- 
 ing at me strangely, I have no doubt I don't 
 look very reputable after our little tussle down 
 the way. How on earth was it that you came 
 to be lying where you did, and that you mis-
 
 16(5 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 took mo for somebody else ? — and, by-the-by, 
 who is James Murdoch, and what do you know 
 about him V 
 
 ' It's rather an unpleasant story, sir, so if it's 
 all the same to you, we'll wait till we get to the 
 house, especially as your grip has given me 
 rather a turn, and I 'ud be none the worse of a 
 drop o' whisky.' 
 
 'Come on, then,' replied Armitage, impa- 
 tiently, and in a few minutes the two men were 
 inside Firnie Knowe. 
 
 Leading the way into the smoking-room, 
 where a bright fire was burning, he motioned 
 the detective to be seated, and to help himself 
 to the spirits that stood on a side table. 
 
 'Now, Gavin, let me hear what you have to 
 say, and excuse my seeming abruptness in 
 hurrying you thus, but I feel worried and tired 
 to-night, and have some things I want to see 
 to at once.' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I will tell you what I have to 
 say as briefly as possible, only premising that 
 you must bear with me to the end, however 
 much you may feel disinclined to hear me out
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 167 
 
 — for my communication is not a pleasant 
 one. 
 
 ' I have for some time past, but in vain, been 
 endeavouring to lay my hands on a certain Mr. 
 James Murdoch. This person is well-connected 
 in Edinburgh, and once held a good enough 
 position in an insurance-office there, which he 
 lost by embezzlement. The matter, however, was 
 hushed up, and Murdoch suffered no other evil 
 from it than being turned adrift alike by the 
 Company and by his friends. Beyond several 
 disreputable but not legally criminal incidents 
 in his subsequent life in Edinburgh we know 
 nothing further than that about a year ago he 
 went to London, where all trace of him was 
 lost. It was only after much roundabout pro- 
 cedure that I learned that it was this very 
 person who had presented the notes at various 
 banks in Edinburgh — the notes, I mean, that 
 were paid in Dundee in return for the forged 
 cheque. I strongly suspected that he was 
 acting in concert with some one else, and my 
 suspicions became confirmed when I found that 
 he was seen twice in Firnie Wood. I could
 
 168 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 have had him arrested on suspicion, but it 
 might have led to nothing ; and, moreover, 
 there was a reason why I had to proceed with 
 the utmost caution, a reason other than that 
 connected with the actual capture of the guilty- 
 person. That Murdoch was in this instance a 
 partial dupe, I felt certain ; anyhow, I never for 
 a moment imagined him to be the forger. The 
 man I set to watch him in Edinburgh turned 
 out to be a fool at his trade, and lost sight of 
 him on two occasions that might have led to 
 something important. On the first he traced 
 Murdoch to a low music-hall, and there he 
 overheard him say to a woman in his company 
 that she needn't cut up rough, as he had a 
 sweetheart in the country who was not only a 
 lady of rank, but who gave him as much money 
 as he wanted. 
 
 * Wait a minute, Mr. Armitage, you needn't 
 rise to ring the bell. You must hear what 
 I've got to say — believe it or not as you 
 like. 
 
 * Well, on hearing this the man came back to 
 the office to report — but when he went again to
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 169 
 
 Gordon Street, where Murdoch was lodging, 
 he found the bird had flown. Probably the 
 latter had left the town, or he may have been 
 in close hiding, but in any case we lost sight of 
 him for close upon three weeks, when one day 
 the same constable — in plain clothes, of course 
 — having caught sight of him at the Princes 
 Street Station, followed him to the Clarendon 
 Cafe, which the latter entered in company with 
 the same gentleman to whom he had been 
 speaking at the station. They were about ten 
 minutes inside, and when they issued again 
 they sprang at once into a hansom, and got 
 clean away before our fool of a new hand even 
 noticed the cab-number. Here was occasion 
 number two lost. A thorough search was 
 instigated, but at last I had to come to 
 the conclusion that Murdoch was not in Edin- 
 burgh. 
 
 * What I have now got to say may or may 
 not have any weight with you. One day I 
 received an anonymous letter which I am bound 
 to say I had every reason to believe a genuine 
 communication. It practically advised me to
 
 170 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 concentrate my attention upon some one within 
 Firnie Knowe. I did so, and with the following 
 results : 
 
 * Firstly, I found that Mrs. Armitage had been 
 seen on three separate occasions walking with a 
 stranger in Firnie Wood. 
 
 ' Secondly, on one of these occasions she was 
 overheard to say to her companion (whom my 
 informant did not see sufficiently well to de- 
 scribe), " You must not drive me too far," and 
 he replied to the effect that she had enough and 
 to spare, and that " there would be a fine scandal 
 some day, anyhow." 
 
 ' Thirdly, after many inquiries, I found that 
 frequently of late a strange gentleman had put 
 up for a night or so at the " Grasston Arms," at 
 the small village of Grasston, four miles to the 
 north of Firnie Wood. 
 
 ' Fourthly, having left instructions that 1 
 should be communicated with at once if the 
 gentleman came again, I one night lately got a 
 telegram to say that he was there. But, as 
 Grasston is not a telegraphic place, the message 
 had come in a roundabout way, and had reached
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 171 
 
 me too late to be of any good that night, so all 
 I could do was to arrange to leave Dundee 
 (where I unfortunately was at the time) the 
 first thing the following morning. When I 
 reached the " Grasston Arms " I found that my 
 gentleman had gone. Naturally I was much 
 chagrined, but I made two subsequent dis- 
 coveries which recompensed me after all. On 
 searching the bed-room in which he had slept, 
 I noticed that he had had a fire the night pre- 
 vious, and I also saw that below the fire-place 
 lay some charred and half-burnt fragments of 
 paper. Among these I found a partially- 
 destroyed envelope, upon which, however, I 
 could make out the addressee's name, viz., 
 " James Murdoch." I forgot to tell you that the 
 gentleman had been known at the " Grasston 
 Arms " under the name of Armstrong. Later in 
 the day I came upon a second important link. 
 By a lucky chance question of a boy whom I 
 met in the road, a cow-boy to Farmer Johnstone 
 of the Lees, I learned that the lad had been 
 going a message to Firnie Knowe, and that as 
 he went along he kept tossing a penny from
 
 172 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 hand to hand. In the twilight he missed his 
 clasp once, and the penny shot into the hedge to 
 his left. Determined not to lose it, he dived in 
 among the hips and haws, but, not finding it, 
 fell a-crying and ultimately asleep. When he 
 woke up he found it quite dark, save for the 
 moonlight that lay along the fields. He was 
 just going to creep out of the hedge when he 
 saw a man coming stealthily along Firnie Road, 
 seemingly expectant for some interview ; but 
 after hanging about for some few minutes he 
 proceeded, followed by the lad, till he came to 
 Firnie Knowe avenue. In the darkness caused 
 by the trees, the man was suddenly lost to view, 
 though the boy (who evidently thinks now that 
 he witnessed something supernatural) assured 
 me that he vanished into the air. All that the 
 lad could tell me further was, that he thought he 
 heard a low whistle, and that, as later on he 
 ventured to draw near to the house itself, he 
 was certain he saw a woman pass through the 
 shrubbery. 
 
 'Fifthly, on examination of the shrubbery 
 close to the house, I did find something — a
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 173 
 
 woman's lace handkerchief, with the initials 
 
 m. a a. 
 
 ' And, sixthly, having this afternoon heard 
 that the person calling himself Armstrong had 
 again turned up at the " Grasston Arms," and that 
 he had gone out for the evening, as he said, I 
 concluded I would wait in Firnie Road and see 
 what luck I would have. I had not long hidden 
 myself in the hedge before the dense mist came 
 down, and as I feared that Murdoch alias Arm- 
 strong might slip past me unheard, as well as 
 unseen, I determined to go on to Firnie Knowe, 
 and wait in the avenue close to the house. It 
 was while doing this that I fancied I heard a 
 step on the gravel behind me ; hearing nothing 
 further, I stooped to the ground, so as to catch 
 the least vibration of sound ; and, just as I be- 
 came assured that some one was near, you 
 stumbled over me, and I thought that I had got 
 hold of Mr. Murdoch with a vengeance. 
 
 * There, Mr. Armitage, that is what I have 
 got to tell you. What conclusion would you 
 draw yourself, sir, if you were reporting on a 
 wholly impersonal case V
 
 174 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 < 1 think your argument weak from first to 
 last, Mr. Gavin, and I am quite convinced that, 
 on at any rate one or two points, you have been, 
 intentionally or unintentionally, misled, I grant, 
 however, that there is something mysterious 
 about this Mr. Murdoch. Well, tell me frankly 
 what your suspicions lead to/ 
 
 ' What I have just told you, sir, convinces me 
 in my belief that the person who abstracted and 
 forged the cheque was Mrs. Armitage.' 
 
 ' When I stop your speaking further, Mr. 
 Gavin, it is not because I feel your remark an 
 insult, for, in the first place, you do not know 
 my wife, and, in the next, I believe that you 
 announce your judgment reluctantly, but I do 
 so because I feel it is an utter waste of time to 
 discuss the matter. What you say is wholly 
 impossible. If you had tried to prove to me 
 Mrs. Armitage loved some one in a way that she 
 had no right to do, I might have been at first 
 startled into suspicion, but what you suggest is, 
 as I have said, wholly impossible. To show 
 you how absolutely I disbelieve you, I request 
 you to lose no time in finding out something
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 175 
 
 more about this person whom you have been 
 tracking. He may be on Firnie Road by this 
 time.' 
 
 At this moment a knock came to the door, 
 and a piece of paper was handed by the servant 
 to Mr. Gavin. It was from the landlord of the 
 6 Grasston Arms,' and was to the effect that he 
 had just had a telegram from Dundee from 
 Mr. Armstrong to say that the latter would be 
 unable to return as arranged, and adding 
 that no baggage had been left by the gentle- 
 man. 
 
 1 Missed him again,' muttered the detective, 
 in a tone of intense chagrin. 
 
 'Well, Gavin, what are you going to do 
 now V 
 
 6 This may be a hoax also, but I'll risk it, 
 and go back to Dundee at once. I may come 
 across him there. But I'm as absolutely con- 
 vinced as before as to whose door the main 
 guilt should be laid at.' 
 
 ' You may go, Mr. Gavin. I decline to dis- 
 cuss the subject ;' and even as Armitage spoke 
 the officer bowed stiffly and left the room.
 
 176 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Rising wearily, Hew went and stood by the 
 fire, buried in thought. Some minutes passed 
 thus before he rang the bell, and when the ser- 
 vant appeared asked if Mrs. Andrews, the nurse, 
 were upstairs or down. 
 
 ' She is downstairs, sir,' said the man, who 
 seemed nervous and excited. 
 
 'Anything the matter, Williams?' 
 
 'No, sir — yes, sir — I mean no, sir. I'll tell 
 Mrs. Andrews to speak to you, sir?' 
 
 < Yes.' 
 
 In a minute or two the nurse appeared, and 
 in very evident trepidation. 
 
 ' Mrs. Andrews, how is my wife to-day ?' 
 
 ' She was all right when I last saw her, sir ; 
 and stronger than I've ever known her, though 
 she seemed strange and excited like. That was 
 about noon.' 
 
 * Do you mean to say you haven't seen her 
 since noon? Has she been alone since then?' 
 
 But all Mrs. Andrews did, by way of reply, 
 was to burst into tears and sob demonstra- 
 tively. 
 
 'What in heaven's name does this mean,
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 177 
 
 woman? Speak out at once. Is there any- 
 thing the matter with Mrs. Armitage V 
 
 6 Oh, sir, don't ask me, don't ask me ! I'm 
 all nutter, sir, and — and — I — I — I,' and here 
 Mrs. Andrews' grief burst out afresh. 
 
 Furiously ringing the bell, Armitage was 
 answered so rapidly as to suggest there having 
 been some one at the door beforehand. 
 
 * Williams, what is the matter with this 
 woman ? Is she mad, or drunk, or what % 
 Speak out at once, man ; I'm in no humour for 
 any nonsense.' 
 
 'Forgive me, sir, but none of us know what's 
 become of Mrs. Armitage. She left the house 
 shortly after noon in the pony-phaeton, taking 
 the baby with her, in charge of Nellie, the third 
 housemaid. About an hour or so later, Nellie, 
 turned up again, saying that her mistress had 
 never spoken a word to her all the way, till at 
 last she suddenly pulled up the pony and 
 ordered Nellie to get out and go home. The 
 girl hardly knew what to do, but she was 
 frightened, and so did as she was told. Then 
 Mrs. Armitage drove on, and we heard nothing 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. . 
 
 more till about an hour ago Maxwell, the 
 carrier, told us that he had seen the pony walk- 
 ing sedately along before the empty phaeton, 
 and that as he wasn't busy he turned and 
 brought it back to Firnie Knowe. He saw 
 nothing of Mrs. Armitage. Dr. Steele had 
 just left the house, sir, and had ridden off 
 before you came in, in the direction that Nellie 
 saw her going when she was told to leave the 
 phaeton.' 
 
 A sudden great fear fell upon Hew. Nothing 
 definite shaped itself in his mind, but only a 
 great dread of the long imminent crisis which 
 had now arrived, for unquestioningly he recog- 
 nised that the inevitable crisis had now come. 
 He told Williams and the nurse to leave the 
 room, and then walked up and down for some 
 time in what would have appeared to any 
 spectator deep thought, but which was more a 
 sudden and inexplicable mental apathy. 
 
 A thought suddenly struck him, and he ran 
 hastily upstairs to his wife's room. Eagerly he 
 looked about, but whatever object he sought 
 was not there. On going into his dressing-
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 179 
 
 room, his gaze was at once arrested by a small 
 piece of writing-paper pinned to the cloth that 
 lay before the looking-glass. On this paper was 
 written the single word Farewell, and the hand- 
 writing was that of Mona. 
 
 . It is almost impossible to foretell how any 
 individual will act during some unexpected and 
 eventful crisis ; sometimes the weak become 
 strong, and the strong weak. If Armitage had 
 ever been asked how he would have acted under 
 similar circumstances, he would probably have 
 emphatically stated that his only relief wo aid have 
 been in instantaneous action, and that he would 
 have ceaselessly prosecuted the search after the 
 missing one. As a matter of fact, he sank on a 
 low chair beside the dressing-table, holding the 
 scrap of paper before him, and staring at it with 
 a look of dull despair. 
 
 An hour passed, and, urged by the other 
 servants, Williams went upstairs to see if Mr. 
 Armitage wanted anything. Finding the 
 smoking-room empty, he looked into the other 
 rooms in succession, but seeing that his master 
 was in none of them concluded he was 
 
 n2
 
 180 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 upstairs. With some hesitation he knocked at 
 the dressing-room door, and, receiving no 
 answer, looked in. Armitage was still sitting 
 in a crouching attitude, gazing fixedly but 
 vacantly on the slip of paper he held in his 
 hand. 
 
 ' If you please, sir, did you ring V 
 
 No answer. 
 
 ' Mr. Armitage, sir !' 
 
 No answer. 
 
 1 Mr. Armitage,' (louder) ' — if you please, sir, 
 can I get you anything, or have you any orders 
 to give me V 
 
 Hew looked up, and said simply, 
 
 'No.' 
 
 Another hour passed, another, and another. 
 
 A sudden ring of the hall-door bell startled 
 the household, all alert as everyone was for 
 some new development of the mystery. On 
 opening the door Williams let in Dr. Steele, who 
 at once inquired if the man's master were in and 
 in what room. 
 
 'Any word of Mrs. Armitage, sir?' 
 
 * Show me where Mr. Armitage is, Williams ;'
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 181 
 
 and, without vouchsafing any further answer, 
 Dr. Steele followed till he reached the room 
 in question, when he thanked Williams in a 
 tone that also decidedly said, ' You need not 
 linger here.' But just before he turned the 
 handle the servant whispered to him, 
 
 1 Mr. Armitage has sat in the same position 
 for the last two or three hours. He seems quite 
 dazed, sir.' 
 
 Entering the room, he closed the door 
 behind him, and then walked over beside 
 Armitage, and laid his hand on the latter's 
 shoulder. 
 
 ' Hew, my boy !' 
 
 Armitage looked up at the kindly and familiar 
 tone, and for sole reply handed the doctor the 
 scrap of paper — ' Farewell. 9 
 
 Dr. Steele repressed a sigh as he wondered 
 what terrible significance lay in this word in 
 this instance. What did it point to — madness, 
 death, dishonour ? Not the last, surely, what- 
 ever Mona might be ; and yet how horribly some 
 things pointed thereto. It was not without 
 difficulty that he succeeded in rousing Hew
 
 182 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 from his apathetic despair, and then only when 
 he said that a slight but possible clue had been 
 discovered. 
 
 1 What ? Tell me what you know — tell me 
 what you think,' Hew cried, springing to his 
 feet. 
 
 ' Mona told Nellie to leave her when they 
 were passing North Ratho, a short distance 
 from where the road diverges into four forks. 
 When I reached this point on horseback I 
 followed the Dunluiart Road, the same upon 
 which the carrier discovered the phaeton and 
 pony, but when I came to Dunluiart I found 
 that no stranger had passed through the village 
 that day. I felt convinced that your wife had 
 not taken either of the eastern roads, because 
 both are at present so muddy and rutted as to 
 be almost impassable, so I struck across the 
 fields to the Grasston Road, and soon reached 
 the village, but there also I failed in getting 
 any information. Remembering that a earner's 
 coach ran twice a week from Grasston to Perth 
 via Glencarse and the scattered hamlets en route? 
 I looked in at the " Grasston Arms " to learn if a
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 183 
 
 lady had left that day, but was assured that 
 there were no travellers at all, the landlord, 
 moreover, remembering that the carrier had 
 complained of dull times, and that he did not 
 expect to get a single traveller this turn. I was 
 just having a little whisky and water before 
 leaving, when one of the stablemen came in for 
 a light to his pipe, remarking, after he had 
 nodded good-evening to the landlady, that old 
 John (by whom he meant the carrier) had got a 
 passenger, after all. 
 
 1 " How was that ?" asked the landlord. 
 
 * " Weel, I was just returnin' frae Smawoodie 
 with the bay mare when I saw auld John's 
 machine come bobbin' alang the road. To my 
 surprise a leddie cam' oot frae Grasston Woods 
 an' stoppit auld John — at least she mauna ha'e 
 been a leddie, ye ken, but I thocht sae at the 
 time. Whaun I gaed by them I couldna see 
 her for the wood, but I nodded to auld John, wi' 
 a wink, as much as to say that he was in luck 
 after all, but the grumpy auld carle only mum- 
 bled oot, ' Sma' luck's better than nane.' " 
 
 ' So you see, Armitage, this points to a double
 
 184 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 conclusion, granting that the carrier's passenger 
 was Mona — firstly, that no mischance has hap- 
 pened to her ; and, secondly, that she has gone 
 away alone.' 
 
 * It may be so, Steele, but I have little hope 
 of it. Mona could have gone away with much 
 greater speed and safety from some railway- 
 station in the districts round about, and in Perth 
 she would be traced as easily as in Firnie. Then 
 what could she be doing in Grasston Woods, 
 miles away from where she left the phaeton ! 
 and I don't believe Mona ever knew that a 
 carrier's coach went from Grasston to Perth, or 
 at any rate the days upon which it did so. And, 
 lastly, the stableman made no mention of the 
 woman he saw having a baby with her, and, 
 whatever else Mona may have done, I am con- 
 vinced she would not have parted with her 
 child. And yet, I don't know. I feel as if I 
 were arguing against reason.' 
 
 1 Partly from a mistake of mine, Armitage, 
 for I forgot to add that I asked the stable- 
 man if the woman had a baby, and he replied 
 that, if she hadn't, she had something very
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 185 
 
 like one, as she had a bundle in her arms, 
 besides a small black bag which she carried in 
 one hand.' 
 
 'Then let us go at once. The last train 
 has passed ; but if we get the dog-cart out 
 we'll reach Perth earlier than if we waited 
 for the morning express. But, no, my good 
 kind friend, you are already tired out. You 
 stay here, I pray, and, if anything should 
 occur in my absence, all will be well in your 
 hands.' 
 
 As Dr. Steele ivas very much exhausted with 
 his unwonted exertion and excitement, he was 
 forced to agree to this, and lay down according- 
 ly as soon as Armitage had left. 
 
 As the light vehicle sped through the dark- 
 ness, Hew felt as though he lived only in the 
 present, as if a future were as remote from him 
 as his past. 
 
 On, on, past shadowy clumps of trees and 
 shrouded hedgerows, past strong-smelling tur- 
 nip-fields and low, wayside cottages— every 
 yard, he prayed, a link in the chain that would 
 connect him again with Mona. As he neared
 
 180 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 the North Grasston by-way, which ran across 
 the Perth Road, his ears caught the rapid beat 
 of a horse's hoofs in full gallop. Nearer and 
 nearer the latter came. Armitage tightened his 
 grasp on the reins as he approached the point 
 where the main road was bisected by the other, 
 and sharply checked the horse's speed as he saw 
 that the rider would cross a moment or so 
 before he would. The moon was shining with 
 a wet, murky gleam, but its light was strong 
 enough to let him recognise the rider's face as 
 the latter sped northward in furious haste. 
 Armitage sprang to his feet in the swaying dog- 
 cart, and shouted out, with fierce energy, ' Come 
 back !' but the rider either did not hear, or paid 
 no attention, and in a few moments even his 
 horse's gallop grew indistinct. The horseman 
 was Charles Leith.
 
 187 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 
 
 The sight of Leith had aroused a wild fury in 
 Armitage : but just as he was about to turn the 
 horse's head up the North Grasston Road and 
 lash the animal into swift pursuit, a double flash 
 of reason prevented him from this foolishness. 
 In the first place, he could never make up on 
 Leith, he in a dog-cart and the latter well- 
 mounted, as Armitage had half unconsciously- 
 noted ; and in the next, here was evidence that 
 Leith was not with Mona. No, he would hurry 
 on to Perth. 
 
 On, on again. Rousing quiet little hamlets 
 into startled attention, and frightening more 
 than one poacher as he and his comrades lurked
 
 188 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 near some forest boundaries. An hour later 
 and Morphett was reached, and at the ' Athole 
 Arms ' a fresh and good horse obtained. Then 
 on once more along the flat, long road, looking 
 from a distance like a flying cloud-shadow more 
 than a thing of actuality. Armitage could not 
 shake the coincidence of meeting Leith out of 
 his mind. 
 
 ' Curse him,' he muttered. ' I thought he 
 had been disposed of for good, yet here he is 
 again, and this night of all nights. Where was 
 he coming from when [they had passed each 
 other 1 Grasston and Firnie lay behind him, so 
 if he had not long left either of these places 
 he could not possibly have been in the company 
 of Mona.' Armitage's thoughts revolved con- 
 stantly round this central fear as the moths 
 circle round a single flame in a dark room. 
 4 Could a message have been given him of vital 
 importance 1 Was he going to meet some one 
 at a changed rendezvous, and, if so, where was 
 the latter 1 Let me see ; is there an inn at North 
 Grasston % No. So it could hardly be there, 
 unless all risks were recklessly run. What lies
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 189 
 
 beyond the hamlet? Nothing but the long 
 country road and a few cottages, and one or 
 two private houses on estates ; nothing till the 
 railway line is reached, with small stations at 
 long intervals at which few trains stop. Wait 
 a moment — there's Rothel Junction, where even 
 the mail-express will wait for a first-class pas- 
 senger for the south. What if Leith was hurry- 
 ing thither to join the night-mail f He would 
 be in Perth from two to three hours at least 
 before I'll get there, and if Mona were at 
 the station they would be in Glasgow or Edin- 
 burgh before any telegraphic message could be 
 flashed along the lines. Good Heavens, what am 
 I thinking of! I must be mad indeed to allow 
 such thoughts to take possession of me. Yes, 
 Mona, my darling, if there's insanity in the 
 question, it is I who am insane. Mad, mad a 
 dozen times over to doubt you.' 
 
 Two o'clock ! He heard the hour sounded 
 from the bell-tower of some unseen village 
 church. At this hour it is well-known that a 
 change in the weather for better or worse is 
 more significant than at any other time; and
 
 190 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 now the sky began to clear, and the moon in 
 her crescent shone forth with a mellower light. 
 Hew noticed this, and took it as a good omen, 
 further encouraging himself by repeating that 
 the dawn lay behind this promise. Did he 
 think it was summer-time that already he 
 looked for the dawn, which would not yet be 
 for hours f 
 
 At last, as the dog-cart breasted a rising and 
 turned to the left, a glimpse was to be caught 
 of faintly glimmering lights — the lights of 
 Perth. Half-an-hour later he drove up to the 
 chief hotel, and astonished the stableman by 
 asking if a lady with a child were staying in 
 the house. 
 
 'I'll ring the night-bell for ye, sir, and I 
 daresay the waiter will be able to tell ye,' re- 
 plied the man, suiting his action to his words, 
 and adding inwardly, ' What's the go now, I 
 wonder? P'r'aps she's a runaway from him, or 
 p'r'aps he's a-joining of her in flight. Parties as 
 arrives before dawn and asks for a lady, with or 
 without a kid, lays themselves open to sus- 
 picion, I think.'
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 191 
 
 Not for many minutes was the night-bell 
 answered, and, when at last the waiter appeared, 
 it was only to sulkily and sleepily assure his 
 disturber that no such person as he sought was 
 in the hotel. From the * Royal ' Armitage went 
 in turn to every hotel and inn in Perth, having 
 first, however, gone to the station and learned 
 that the night-porters there had noticed no lady 
 with a child and without luggage — that is, none 
 who had gone by the late night-mail, but in no 
 one place did he meet with the faintest clue. As 
 a last resource it struck him that he would try 
 the police-office, and see if by any chance some 
 information might there be gained. The officer 
 in charge told him that a thorough search would 
 be made throughout Perth if the gentleman 
 wished, but this Hew declined as now useless, 
 and he was just about to go, when the inspector 
 called to him, saying that possibly Detective 
 Warner might be able to tell him something, 
 but that that personage was at present in his 
 bed, and could not be seen till morning. 
 
 ' Who is Detective Warner that he should be 
 able more than anyone else to assist me V
 
 192 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ' He's in charge of the station at the time of 
 the mail-trains from the north and south coming 
 in. A lot of queer characters passes to and fro, 
 and, as Mr. Warner's fond of disguising hisself, 
 he has lots of opportunities for finding out odds 
 and ends of useful informatioD. At present he's 
 keeping a very sharp look-out for certain parties 
 as are certain, sooner or later, to pass this way 
 — so it's possible he may have taken note of the 
 lady you're seeking.' 
 
 Thanking the inspector, and promising to 
 return about eight o'clock, Armitage walked to 
 the station and lay down on a couch in the 
 waiting-room. How intolerably slowly dragged 
 the time ! But at last, worn out with anxiety 
 and fatigue, he dozed off into unconsciousness, 
 forgetting all his troubles in sleep till, as it 
 seemed to him, only a few minutes later, a 
 porter awakened him with the question as to 
 whether he wanted to catch the up or down 
 morning mail, as the latter was just about 
 due. 
 
 Looking at his watch, he found it was 
 shortly after six, so he entered the refresh-
 
 HONOUR OK DISHONOUR. 193 
 
 ment-bar to have some coffee before he went 
 back to the police-office to see if Mr. Warner 
 could not be induced to appear earlier than 
 eight. 
 
 While there, he heard the signal-bell ring, 
 and immediately the shrill whistle of the ad- 
 vancing train screeched through the station. 
 A thought flashed across his mind that perhaps 
 he might recognise some one in it during the 
 four or five minutes it stayed at Perth, and, as 
 the train drew up, his eyes rapidly scrutinised 
 the passengers as they came forth from the 
 carriages labelled * London,' ' Glasgow,' and 
 'Edinburgh.' Standing as he was at the en- 
 trance to the refreshment-rooms, most of the 
 travellers had almost to touch him in passing, 
 so that he had ample opportunity to look well 
 at everyone, but without a single recognition. 
 When all who had hurried out to get some 
 refreshment had passed him, Armitage walked 
 swiftly to the first carriage, and then passed 
 along the line, looking into each one and glanc- 
 ing at every passenger who had remained. 
 There were not many, and the faces of all of 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 them were unknown to him, save in one case, 
 where a man, evidently a commercial traveller, 
 was lying full-length along the seat of a second- 
 class compartment, his face hidden in the 
 voluminous rug in which he was enveloped. 
 
 'No one in this train whom I know,' he 
 murmured to himself, half regretfully and half 
 relieved. 
 
 The guards began calling out to the passen- 
 gers to be seated, and the bell rang, accentu- 
 ating the general confusion. Armitage strolled 
 back from the van at the rear, and, without 
 intention, found himself stopping opposite the 
 carriage in which lay the man he had noticed 
 and thought to be a commercial traveller. 
 The ticket-collectors had almost finished their 
 inspection, and the station-master was impa- 
 tient to get the train away, and was only 
 waiting till the last ticket-collector gave the 
 sign. 
 
 ' Now then, sir, are you going by this train f ' 
 said a guard to Armitage, and, on hearing his 
 reply in the negative, swung-to the door of the 
 compartment opposite which Hew was waiting.
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 195 
 
 and, standing on the foot-board, demanded his 
 ticket of the sleeping passenger. The latter 
 awoke with surprising rapidity, and did as he 
 was required; the station-master waved his 
 hand and whistled, and the train steamed 
 swiftly out of the station. 
 
 But in the brief glimpse Armitage had caught 
 of the ' commercial ' passenger's face he recog- 
 nised features he had seen before. Whose 
 were they — where had he seen them? Perhaps 
 the incident had not the faintest significance, 
 yet why did this face keep haunting him, or, 
 rather, the dim memory of such a face. No, he 
 could not remember ; then, seeing that the hands 
 of the great clock now pointed to twenty minutes 
 past six, he walked off in the direction of the 
 central police-office, hoping to find Detective 
 Warner up, and in about a quarter-of-an-hour 
 was introduced to that officer. 
 
 He told him what he wanted to find out, and, 
 almost without further questioning, Hew was 
 informed in return that Sub-Inspector Warner 
 had seen a lady and child go by a south train 
 the previous afternoon, not by the English mail, 
 
 o2
 
 196 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 but either to Glasgow or Edinburgh, he could 
 not say which. 
 
 4 The lady had no luggage with her, saving 
 a small black bag. I took particular note of 
 her in case she might be a well-known female 
 thief in disguise (for I am on the look-out for 
 such a party, I may tell you), but I saw at a 
 glance that I had never seen her face before. 
 She was very pretty, about twenty-eight, I 
 should think ; but with an anxious look in her 
 face, almost as if she were escaping from some- 
 thing she dreaded. I would have paid more 
 attention to her if I hadn't had my eyes on the 
 look-out for the special business upon which I 
 was there. One moment, sir,' he added, ' excuse 
 my asking, but is your name Armitage V 
 
 < It is.' 
 
 'Ah, something made me think it must be 
 you. You see, sir, I have just had a telegraphic 
 message from Detective Gavin, of the Dundee 
 branch, telling me to keep my eye on all trains 
 that pass this morning, firstly, for a lady such 
 as I've described, and by name Mrs. Armitage, 
 and, secondly, for a person for whom I've been
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 197 
 
 on the look-out some time. Unfortunately, I 
 received this message a great deal too late to 
 be of any use, for it's hardly likely either of 
 them will now be in the late morning mail for 
 the south.' 
 
 * By " them " do I infer that you believe the 
 lady and the other person will be found 
 together?' 
 
 * Gavin thinks so, but I don't — because I'm 
 sure that it was Mrs. Armitage I saw yesterday 
 afternoon, and I'm still surer that if Mr. James 
 Murdoch had been in the train I should have 
 seen him.' 
 
 Murdoch ! The very man Hew had seen 
 half an hour ago lying asleep in the second- 
 class carriage. He remembered now where he 
 had seen the face before — it was at the Claren- 
 don Cafe in Edinburgh, and was the man to 
 whom Leith had spoken the words which the 
 latter had afterwards so glibly explained away. 
 Armitage had repeated the man's name aloud in 
 the sudden rush of memory. 
 
 ' Why, do you know him, sir V 
 
 1 Yes ; that is, I saw him once in Edinburgh,
 
 198 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 and -under circumstances that made me suspici- 
 ous. Do you agree with Gavin in thinking that 
 this man and my wife are in league V 
 
 1 1 don't know enough about the case to say 
 what I think, sir ; but, knowing what I do of 
 Murdoch, I should think it very unlikely. Your 
 wife's a lady, Murdoch isn't a gentleman, and is 
 an unmistakable blackguard to look at, so there 
 could hardly be any love-affair in the matter. 
 As to the forgery, I can only say I don't know 
 enough about the case to say ivliat I think — but 
 I know that Gavin's no fool, and his decision 
 has necessarily great weight.' 
 
 ' Then I may tell you that Mr. Gavin is utterly 
 on the wrong scent,' said Hew, quietly. 
 
 ' Perhaps so, Mr. Armitage. Anyhow, I should 
 be glad to get a sight of Murdoch, or even to get 
 some clue as to when he was last seen within 
 the last twelve hours.' 
 
 ' I can give you that clue. He was in the 
 express that went south half-an-hour ago.' 
 
 ' Well, I'm hanged ! So I've missed him 
 clean. You are sure it was he — and was he 
 alone?'
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 199 
 
 'To both questions — yes; but I am sorry 
 to say I cannot in tlie least recall with certainty 
 what portion of the train he was in — though I 
 fancy it was in a through London carriage. But 
 there is ample time, surely, to telegraph and 
 catch him V 
 
 i Oh, we don't want to catch him, at least 
 not yet awhile. We want to keep him in sight, 
 you understand, for he'll lead us to other game. 
 But of course we'll telegraph to London, Edin- 
 burgh, and Glasgow, though it's to the first he's 
 gone, I'm certain. And I will do all that is 
 possible to find out if any of our people have 
 seen or can trace Mrs. Armitage — if she's still 
 alone it will be much easier. No, sir, I would 
 not recommend you to do 1 this yourself, nor to 
 wait here. You may rest assured that if any 
 trace is found of your wife she won't be lost 
 sight of again, and you will be telegraphed for 
 at once.' 
 
 Leaving instructions that telegrams in such 
 an event should be forwarded to him both 
 at Dundee and at Firnie Knowe, Hew went 
 back to the • Royal Hotel,' and directed the
 
 200 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 dog-cart and horse to be sent back by train 
 the same day, and a few minutes later himself 
 caught the Dundee train, having first tele- 
 graphed to Firnie Knowe for a horse to be 
 awaiting him. 
 
 In due time he was at home again, if, indeed, 
 that place could be called home which seemed 
 to him desolate in the extreme. Everything 
 was to a casual glance the same, and yet 
 to him how different it was — as different as a 
 corpse to the living body. He was met at the 
 door by Dr. Steele, who, in asking if there was 
 any word of Mona, showed that he himself had 
 learned nothing further. 
 
 Hew told him all he knew, and both agreed 
 that there was nothing to be done but to wait 
 patiently till something was heard from the 
 detectives. 
 
 'I've had Gavin out here again this morn- 
 ing,' said Dr. Steele, 'to see if he could make 
 anything out of a mysterious visit we had 
 again last night. You remember your wife's 
 having once got a fright before by some night 
 intruder's face appearing at the window of the
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 201 
 
 morning-room. Well, last night I spilt an oil- 
 lamp there accidentally, and the window was 
 opened a little to let the unpleasant smell 
 escape. One of the servants in passing the 
 door thought she heard some one moving about 
 in the room, though by this time I had left 
 Firnie Knowe for the Cedars, and no one in the 
 house, she was certain, could be in the room ; 
 but, instead of looking in, the stupid lassie went 
 on till she met Williams, and then told him 
 what she had heard. Williams told her she 
 was imagining something, but he went himself 
 to the room and cautiously opened the door. 
 There was no one in the room, but he dis- 
 tinctly heard a step on the gravel-path outside, 
 and, running to the window, caught a glimpse 
 of a man hurrying across the garden in the 
 direction of the avenue. He got the stablemen 
 and gardeners to make a thorough search in the 
 grounds, but without success. The intruder 
 could not have been a big man, nor yet one ac- 
 customed to country life, for the imprint of his 
 foot on the beds which he crossed in his hurry 
 is small, and caused by a well-shaped and slight
 
 202 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 boot. Gavin has made nothing out of it as yet.' 
 By midday no news had arrived, so, as much 
 to distract his mind as anything else, but also to 
 nip any scandal in the bud that might arise in 
 the city, Hew went in to Dundee, Dr. Steele 
 promising to remain at Firnie Knowe and 
 communicate with him at once if occasion 
 should arise. He hardly hoped that no word 
 of this fresh trouble had been bruited about, 
 but he trusted that it had not gone beyond his 
 own circle, and if possible his own office, and 
 that it existed only in some very vague form. 
 When he joined the train at Firnie he got a 
 copy of the Advertise)*, and began glancing 
 mechanically through its columns. But his 
 thoughts did not follow his eyes, and he was 
 just about to throw the paper aside when he 
 caught sight of a paragraph headed ' Another 
 Scandal.' Hastily perusing it, he saw with a 
 flash of anger that it unmistakably pointed to 
 him. It was thus : 
 
 ' A rumour is current, to which we would not 
 have afforded publicity at present if we had not 
 had reason to give it at least some credence, to
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 203> 
 
 the effect that the wife of one of our most 
 esteemed citizens, and the representative of one 
 of the oldest of our Tayside families, has left 
 her home under peculiarly distressing circum- 
 stances. We make no comments on the par- 
 ticulars given by a contemporary beyond re- 
 gretting that that journal had not contented 
 itself with giving tongue to the scandal, and 
 had seen fit to indulge in supposititious explana- 
 tions, for we are in a position to state that as 
 yet absolutely nothing is known of the cause or 
 causes which prompted the lady's flight.' 
 
 At first Armitage could scarcely restrain his 
 indignation, but on further reflection he came to 
 the conclusion that it was perhaps as well the 
 news had found such direct statement, for it 
 could be rectified in a way that no merely 
 verbal rumour could be. The editor of the 
 Dundee Advertiser was known to him a little, 
 and he already felt indebted to him for the way 
 in which the paragraph was worded, and he 
 knew, moreover, that the gentleman in question 
 would not hesitate to publish any denial which 
 Hew formulated.
 
 201 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 As soon as the train reached Dundee, Arnri- 
 tage drove to the office of the Advertiser. The 
 editor had not yet arrived, but, after a brief 
 interview with the second in command, Hew 
 came forth satisfied that a fitting denial would 
 appear in the next issue. 
 
 When Armitage got home that afternoon, he 
 found that Dr. Steele had had to leave, but that 
 nothing material had transpired, the only tele- 
 gram that had arrived having been one from 
 the Perth police-office stating that as yet no 
 trace had been found of the fugitive, and 
 that, moreover, Murdoch must have changed 
 at Carlisle or elsewhere on the road to 
 London, for there the strictest look-out, as at 
 Glasgow and Edinburgh, had proved unsuc- 
 cessful. 
 
 Dr. Steele had left because he had no wish to 
 see Armitage at present. He now believed that 
 something more than mental aberration was at 
 the bottom of Mona's flight, but he knew that 
 even to hint at this just now would be useless, 
 as well as perhaps endangering the continuance 
 of the friendship between himself and Hew.
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 205 
 
 The good doctor had been convinced, despite 
 much that had previously occurred to puzzle 
 him, that Mrs. Armitage had gone away under 
 some strange hallucination ; but that very day 
 he had received a letter while at Firnie which 
 had caused him the utmost sorrow. He was 
 sitting writing when Williams came in and told 
 him that Jock Mason, the village idiot, had 
 insisted on seeing him. 
 
 ' How do you know he wants me, Williams, 
 because the man is deaf and dumb as well as an 
 idiot V 
 
 6 Oh, by certain signs he made, sir,' replied 
 the man, with a smile of amused remembrance. 
 4 He wants to hand you something, but he won't 
 entrust it to me. I think it's a letter.' 
 
 ' Ah, I will see him/ 
 
 But all the doctor's efforts failed to discover 
 the name or sex of the person who had entrusted 
 Jock with the missive. The man either would 
 not or could not understand, and at last the 
 effort to make him comprehend had to be given 
 up in despair. 
 
 The letter ran thus :
 
 206 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ' To Dr. Steele, Firnie Knoioe. 
 
 i Let no vain search be made. Even if found, 
 which is now almost impossible, I could never 
 go back to Firnie Knowe. My guilt is worse 
 than you imagine : it is double-dyed. Forget 
 me, and teach him to forget me. 
 
 ' MONA.' 
 
 The handwriting was that of Mona Armitage, 
 and the inference to be drawn from the note 
 was that she had been the guilty person in the 
 matter of the forgery, and that also she had in 
 reality gone away with some man. But what 
 of the fact of taking the baby with her ? 
 
 Armitage was sitting gloomily in his smoking- 
 room, turning over and over in his mind the 
 old wearisome facts that he already knew by 
 heart. A ring at the door-bell. Was it a tele- 
 gram, or was it Dr. Steele back, or was it some 
 visitor ? 
 
 ' A gentleman wishes to see you, sir.' 
 
 •Who is it, Williams f 
 
 ' I don't know, sir. When I asked his name
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 207 
 
 he told me to say that he wanted to have a 
 moment with you on urgent private business.' 
 
 ' That Perth officer, I suppose,' Hew muttered, 
 as he went into the drawing-room. 
 
 He started back in undisguised astonishment, 
 in which resentment was quickly blended. Be- 
 fore him stood Charles Leith. 
 
 Neither spoke for some moments, the visitor 
 contenting himself with a stiffly polite bow, and 
 the faint, wicked smile that haunted his face 
 when anything amused him. Yet what could 
 have then amused him, unless the aged look 
 on Armitage's haggard face or the sad despair 
 that had already taken possession of his eyes 
 did so ? 
 
 ' To what am I indebted for the honour of 
 this unexpected visit V 
 
 Leith shot a quick, angry glance at his ques- 
 tioner, as if resenting the tone of icy contempt 
 in which he had spoken. 
 
 'I have called, sir, to do what lies in my 
 power to justify your wife so far as I am 
 concerned.' 
 
 ' What have you got to do with my wife V
 
 208 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 said Arraitage, with a sudden savage gesture, 
 and advancing a step or two. 
 
 ' Do not be in such a hurry, Mr. Armitage. 
 Is it likely that I would have come here if 
 I had had anything to do with the flight 
 of Mrs. Armitage. I heard of this event 
 through the papers, and, as from past circum- 
 stances I felt convinced that your suspi- 
 cions would rest on me, I thought it would 
 only be just to myself, as well as fair to Mrs. 
 Armitage, to disprove that supposition here in 
 person.' 
 
 'You need not have troubled yourself, Mr. 
 Charles Leith ; whatever I may have thought of 
 my wife's conduct, I never imagined that she 
 could sink to such dishonour as to have even the 
 faintest association in crime with such a person 
 as you V 
 
 Armitage's fierce sneer had its effect, and for 
 a few seconds the two men stood facing each 
 other like a lion and a tiger glaring at each 
 other in mutual defiance. Leith was the first 
 to speak. 
 
 ' By heaven ! you shall pay for this !'
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 209 
 
 'I would to heaven we had met on the open 
 road, and we would have settled our score 
 there. I cannot molest you in my own house, 
 but I can order you out of it, and this I do, 
 peremptorily. Do you hear V 
 
 ' I hear, Mr. Hew Armitage,' said Leith, with 
 extreme quietness, and with great deliberation, 
 ' but, before doing so, I may warn you that 
 while you have doubtless had cause to regret 
 many acts in your life, you will have bitter 
 reason to ultimately recognise your present 
 conduct as the greatest folly you have ever 
 committed.' 
 
 Without another word he passed from the 
 room, Hew standing aside to let him pass, a 
 scornful smile on his face. 
 
 If he could have seen the look on that of 
 Leith as that personage rode down the avenue, 
 he might possibly have felt some anxiety. 
 There was at times something simply devilish 
 in the absolute cruelty of this man's face, and 
 never more so than now, when, smiling wicked- 
 ly, he muttered as he struck the branches with 
 his riding-whip, 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ' Curse you, Hew Armitage, you'll suffer more 
 before I've done with you. You owe something 
 to me already, I think. Ha, ha ! That's some 
 consolation, anyhow.' 
 
 Dr. Steele did not join Armitage that evening, 
 but sent a message to say that he would come 
 in the morning, and an inquiry as to whether 
 anything further had transpired. The horrible 
 inaction oppressed Hew more than anything 
 else. If he could only do something, he said, 
 over and over again to himself — if he could 
 only ride somewhere, or make some physical 
 effort of any kind, but this horrible, chilling 
 patience — it was indeed hard to bear, at times 
 almost intolerable. 
 
 The long night passed, partly in fitful slum- 
 ber and disturbed dreams, mostly in restless 
 tossing to and fro upon the bed. An hour or 
 two before dawn he arose, and, when in due 
 course his horse was brought to the door, rode 
 down to Firnie Station to see if by any 
 chance any telegram were there awaiting him. 
 No, no word at all. How dreary and hope- 
 less it all was. This bitter cold of Nature, did
 
 HONOUR OR DISHONOUR. 211 
 
 it not strike into the soul as well as into the 
 body? 
 
 Twice during the day he telegraphed to Perth, 
 and twice he heard in reply that absolutely no 
 clue concerning Mrs. Armitage had yet been 
 found. When he reached Firnie Knowe in the 
 afternoon, Williams handed him a letter which 
 had just come. It bore the Dundee post-mark, 
 and the handwriting was unfamiliar, but ex- 
 tremely fine and delicate — so much so that he 
 waited a moment to scrutinise it. Opening the 
 envelope, and glancing at the signature at the 
 end of the note, he read, to his utter perplexity, 
 i Charles Leith.' It ran thus : 
 
 'Sir, 
 
 ' You grossly insulted me when I was 
 at your house last night, and you may rest 
 assured that under ordinary circumstances your 
 insult would either have met with fitting chas- 
 tisement or have been passed over with the 
 contempt it deserved. I realised, on calm re- 
 flection, however, that you are at present hard- 
 ly in a fit state for argument with one whom 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 you (for what reason I know not) mistrust ; and, 
 to show you how honestly I am putting aside 
 personal feeling, I now write to tell you that I 
 am still willing to give you the information 
 which I last night came prepared to give. For 
 you were just about to hear some most import- 
 ant news about your wife when your intolerable 
 manner prevented my confiding in you. But I 
 do not wish to cause you further suffering, and 
 pray you to forget the words that I also spoke. 
 I can give you definite information about Mrs. 
 Armitage. As, however, it is for her sake I 
 am acting, and not for yours, I will not agree to 
 give you any information unless in strict privacy. 
 As I cannot cross your threshold again, it would 
 be better for us to meet somewhere. Let it be 
 at the base of Ratho Rise, on the North Grasston 
 Road, about nine o'clock to-night. If you refuse 
 to come, you will be the slayer of your wife's 
 reputation, as well as of your own happiness. 
 
 4 Charles Leith.'
 
 213 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A NIGHT MEETING. 
 
 Leith's letter was at once a puzzle and an 
 extreme annoyance to Armitage. Was the 
 man in earnest, or was the whole thing a trap 1 
 Hew did not like this sudden forgiveness, or 
 this demand for a private interview at such a 
 lonely place as that named. If Leith did not 
 really have any information to give him con- 
 cerning Mona, what could his object be ? It 
 could hardly be to pay back the insult he had 
 received, for this would be too risky a game, 
 however much reliance might be made on some 
 treacherous blow. Was it possible that the 
 whole thing could be the cruel and malicious 
 hoax of a coward ? No, thought Armitage, if
 
 214 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Leith has anything to communicate at all, it 
 must be something which will in some way or 
 other signify some good to himself; the 
 difficulty is how much to believe from such a 
 man. Quite possibly, however, he saw Mona 
 on the day or evening of her flight ; he may 
 even have traced her, and been hurrying home 
 that night when they had nearly collided at 
 the junction of the North Grasston and Perth 
 roads. By-the-by, went on Armitage, in puz- 
 zled mental conjecture, where did Leith live % 
 He had once spoken of friends across the Sid- 
 laws, but, if this were so, what was he doing so 
 often in the neighbourhood of Firnie ; and then 
 this letter of his — it was post-marked Dundee. 
 Where would he come from to-night f — certain- 
 ly not from the last-named place, but perhaps 
 from Grasston 1 What a mystery the whole 
 thing was, and would he ever find the clue that 
 would lead out of this weary and disheartening 
 maze? 
 
 These and similar thoughts kept sovereignty 
 over Hew's mind through the wearisomely long 
 period that had to elapse ere it was time for
 
 A NIGHT MEETING. 215 
 
 hhri to go and keep his appointment with Leith, 
 for so he had determined to do. It was another 
 bitter drop in his cup of sorrow to hear just 
 before he left the house that Dr. Steele was 
 not feeling well, and would be unable to leave 
 j^'s bed that evening. 
 
 ' The curse of my misfortunes has touched 
 even my dear old friend,' he muttered, half 
 sorrowfully and half angrily. 
 
 He had meant to have ridden to the place of 
 meeting, but reflecting that he would have 
 time to be at the Cedars before very late, even 
 if Leith kept him waiting a little, he had the 
 dog-cart brought round, and told Maxwell, the 
 under-groom, to come with him. 
 
 In less than an hour he was driving swiftly up 
 to the lower half of the North Grasston Road, 
 and when he was about a hundred yards from 
 the point where it curved to the right he drew 
 the reins and dismounted. ' Wait here,' he said 
 to Maxwell, and then proceeded alone round 
 the bend, and along the road till it skirted 
 Ratho Rise. This latter is a conical grassy 
 mound, semicircled by a forest of spruce and
 
 21 () THE SPORT OP CHANCE. 
 
 fir, its base standing back from the road at a 
 distance of about fifty yards. 
 
 As Armitage walked across the hoar-frosted 
 tnrf that lay between the road and the bottom 
 of the Rise, he could not help acknowledging to 
 himself that he was glad the moon, though only 
 half-full, was so high in the heavens and cast 
 so brilliant a light; for, though he was about the 
 last man that could be accused of cowardice, 
 there was something in the remoteness of the 
 locality, the sombre darkness of the fir-woods, 
 and the absolute stillness which prevailed, that 
 was enough to put the strongest nerves on a 
 tension on such an occasion as this, when 
 murder was quite possibly entertained by one 
 of the two men about to meet. 
 
 Armitage reached the place of meeting, but 
 found no one there, though it was already a 
 few minutes past the time arranged. A great 
 boulder lay almost midway at the base, and 
 against this he leaned and watched the stars 
 scintillating in the black-blue vault above him. 
 Not a sound broke the stillness around him, 
 save an occasional crack in the fir-woods
 
 A NIGHT MEETING. 217 
 
 behind, as some frost-bitten branch gave way 
 and fell to the ground. Once he started 
 violently as he thought he heard a stealthy 
 footstep in the spur of wood beside him, but it 
 was only a rabbit or hare, or perhaps a hungry 
 fox. 
 
 Was it, could it be, a hoax 1 Good heavens, 
 what if this were only a ruse to get him out 
 of the way at some momentous time, or if 
 Leith had some special reason for getting inside 
 Firnie Knowe, and had hit upon this expedient 
 as the best for his purpose. So excited was 
 Armitage by this sudden and startling surmise 
 that he would have waited no longer had he 
 not at that moment heard the clatter of a 
 horse's gallop along the not far distant main 
 road. Yes, it must be Leith, for the sound of 
 the horse's hoofs, though nearer, was more 
 muffled, which showed that the rider had 
 diverged into the turfed and generally swampy 
 North Grasston Road. In a few moments 
 Leith rode right up to where Armitage was 
 standing. Alighting, he led his horse to the 
 edge of the wood that skirted the Rise, and
 
 218 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 fastened it by the bridle to a sweeping fir 
 bough; then, turning towards Hew, he apologised 
 for his unpunctuality in a tone of haughty 
 indifference. 
 
 'By my presence here, Mr. Leith, you per- 
 ceive that I duly received your most unexpected 
 note. May I request that you at once enter 
 into explanations?' 
 
 1 It is as well that we should understand each 
 other, Mr. Hew Armitage. If I am willing to 
 give you some most material information about 
 Mona — I beg your pardon, I'm sure — Mrs. 
 Armitage, it is from no wish to enable you to 
 put an end to your present anxiety.' 
 
 ' Spare me your irrelative remarks, sir, and 
 come to the point.' 
 
 ' Can you guess why I should be willing to 
 communicate certain information to you V 
 
 ' I cannot. Perhaps it is from the extremely 
 kind interest you have always condescended to 
 feel in my wife.' 
 
 ' Your sneer amuses, it does not sting. Well, 
 I tell you frankly that I have induced you to 
 come hither to-night for my own ends. It is at
 
 A NIGHT MEETING. 219 
 
 the same time true that your wife's honour 
 hinges upon the result of our interview. I have 
 to tell you, first and foremost, that she has left 
 Firnie Knowe for good.' 
 
 « I do not believe it.' 
 
 ' Very good. Permit me, however, to resume. 
 Mrs. Armitage will never return home. If she 
 were found (which is now next to impossible), 
 and were brought back by force, she would 
 leave again at the earliest opportunity. It 
 is not only that she fears the hand of justice 
 for a certain clever and daring fraud, of her 
 participation in which you are already aware, 
 and ' 
 
 1 You are a liar !' 
 
 ' Time will prove. It is not only this that 
 would prevent her returning. There is another, 
 and what you, at least, would consider a more 
 unforgiveable reason. What I know 1 know, 
 and am going to tell you just as much as I see 
 fit, and not a scrap more.' 
 
 Was the man mad that he went on thus, with 
 that terrible light of sullen wrath burning more 
 and more fiercely in Armitage's eyes ?
 
 220 THE SPORT OP CHANCE. 
 
 ' The whole matter now lies in a nutshell, 
 Hew Armitage. Firstly and absolutely, you 
 have seen the last of your wife. Secondly, I 
 happen to be possessed of wholly indisputable 
 evidence to support whatever charges I might 
 make. Thirdly, it is my intention to proclaim 
 these charges, secretly or openly as I may see 
 fit, but none the less surely either way. 
 Fourthly, you can avoid all this scandal 
 and shame by agreeing to buy my silence 
 (and, remember, I am the only person who 
 knoics anything) at the sum I see fit to 
 ask.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha !' laughed out Armitage, scornfully ; 
 adding, in a tone of bitter irony, ' So I was right 
 after all in my estimation of your character. 
 You miserable hound, you can say what you 
 like, but, for your own sake, you had better be 
 cautious what you are about. You hound, you 
 hound ! you to have ever known my wife. My 
 God ! it makes me quiver with scorn to look at 
 you. No, Charles Leith,' he thundered, ' if that 
 be your name, you have made a false move, and 
 you may throw up your hand !'
 
 A NIGHT MEETING. 221 
 
 ' I do not think I have made a false move,' 
 replied the latter, in a quiet and perhaps some- 
 what cowed tone: ' anyhow, I still hold the 
 highest trumps, and so am bound to gain the 
 game sooner or later.' 
 
 This calm, persistent assurance staggered 
 Armitage. The two men stood facing each 
 other silently for nearly a minute, and at last 
 the latter spoke again, and with complete 
 control. 
 
 * And pray what is the sum you are considerate 
 enough to demand?' 
 
 ' If you pay me a thousand pounds before noon 
 to-morrow, you are free to put your own con- 
 struction on your wife's flight. I am the only 
 person who can definitely prove her dishonour, 
 and, therefore, there can be no fear of the 
 scandal becoming known. Pay me this sum, as 
 I have said, and not only will you never see me 
 again, but I swear within a week I will send 
 you definite information as to Mrs. Armitage's 
 whereabouts.' 
 
 * And if I do not accede to your modest and 
 delicate proposal V
 
 222 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ' Then, by heaven, the very beggars in Dun- 
 dee will know that your wife is a thief, a forger, 
 and a ' 
 
 ' Well, you reptile, why do you not finish 
 your sentence V 
 
 6 Are you so very sure of your wife's honour 
 that you can afford gratuitous insults V 
 
 ' I believe in her utter innocence as thorough- 
 ly as I believe that you are the most loathsome 
 scoundrel I have ever met P 
 
 ' You fool — so you are really under the im- 
 pression that you are the father of Mona's 
 child V 
 
 For a moment it seemed as if Armitage was 
 going to fall down in a fit ; his body swayed a 
 little, and quivered like that of a beast of prey 
 in furious rage. 
 
 ' You lying coward/ he shouted, hoarsely, 
 springing at Leith with riding-whip high 
 uplifted. 
 
 At the same moment the latter drew a 
 revolver from his pocket ; there was a flash, an 
 explosion, and a bullet was lodged in the fleshy 
 part of Armitage's shoulder.
 
 A NIGHT MEETING. 223 
 
 It apparently was nothing more to him than 
 the sting of a wasp. Standing above Leith he 
 brought down the heavy riding-whip with a 
 great slash across the latter's face, and tried to 
 grapple with him, while he simultaneously 
 raised on high the loaded end of the whip. But 
 he reeled like a drunken man, and missed his 
 grasp and blow together, and before he could 
 recover Leith brought down the butt end of the 
 revolver upon his head with a savage crash. 
 
 Hew fell in a lifeless heap, and once more 
 there was absolute stillness round lonely Ratho 
 Rise. His antagonist listened intently, then, 
 satisfied that there was no immediate danger, 
 stooped and threw back Armitage's face till the 
 moon lit it up. The blood streamed across it, 
 but the wound in the head was hardly sufficient 
 to cause death ; another searching glance con- 
 vinced him that the bullet had touched no vital 
 part ; the only danger was that the unconscious 
 man might either bleed to death or perish from 
 the cold, as he lay helpless. 
 
 ' What the devil am I to do V he muttered, 
 perplexedly.
 
 224 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Just then a ' hallo ' came from a few hundred 
 yards away. 
 
 ' Hallo ! Mr. Armitage ! Is there anything 
 wrong, sir V 
 
 It was Maxwell, who had heard the shot, and 
 whose suspicions had been aroused. 
 
 ' Ah, that's all right,' muttered Leith ; then, 
 hurriedly tearing off a sheet of blank paper 
 from a letter in his pocket, he wrote something 
 upon it, and shoved it into Hew's clenched 
 hand. 
 
 The next moment he was on horseback and 
 clattering along the roadway at a furious 
 gallop. 
 
 Maxwell evidently heard the latter, for he 
 called out two or three times successively, 
 when, finding that he met with no response, he 
 advanced slowly in the dog-cart. He had 
 almost passed the Rise, when he fancied he saw 
 something dark lying on the turf about forty 
 yards away from the road; alighting, he ran 
 hastily across the intervening space, and to his 
 horror found his master lying there, apparently 
 murdered.
 
 A NIGHT MEETING. 225 
 
 'Perhaps it's been a duel,' he muttered, as his 
 ears caught the last faint echo of the retreating 
 hoofs of Leith's horse, 'yet Mr. Armitage was 
 never the man for that kind of tomfoolery, I 
 should have thought. But there's no knowing 
 what gentlefolks'll do when they are doited in 
 anisfortune, as he's been of late.' 
 
 Stooping, he took Armitage in his arms, and 
 half lifted or dragged him to the dog-cart, 
 wherein it was with the utmost difficulty that 
 he managed to put him. He had driven rapidly 
 for about half-a-mile when a deep groan startled 
 him, and he realised that his master was, at any 
 rate, not dead yet. Hastily drawing the reins 
 he took his own and Armitage's handkerchiefs 
 and bound up the ugly wound in his head, and 
 then, with his left arm, kept the body in a gentle 
 incline against himself. 
 
 Again and again the deep, unconscious groan 
 broke from his master's lips, and so profuse was 
 the blood that oozed out from his chest, as it 
 appeared to Maxwell, that the latter dreaded 
 Armitage would die in his arms. Would it not 
 be wiser, ho thought, to drive to the Cedars 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 instead of to Firnie Knowe, so that there need 
 be no delay in a medical examination where 
 delay only might be fatal ; and suiting the 
 action to his thoughts, he branched off to the 
 right, and in a brief time drew up at the Cedars. 
 Armitage was still unconscious, and was car- 
 ried into one of the bed-rooms on the ground- 
 floor. 
 
 It did not take Dr. Steele, who, though him- 
 self unwell, did not hesitate to at once attend 
 to his friend, long to decide that no very mate- 
 rial injury had been done — the fear was that 
 fever or inflammation might set in. 
 
 4 You have said no word about this yet, have 
 you, Maxwell V 
 
 'No, Dr. Steele. When I arrived at the 
 Cedars, I simply said that an accident had hap- 
 pened to my master.' 
 
 ' That is right ; and, to avoid being ques- 
 tioned, you had perhaps better stay here till he 
 comes round, which won't be long now.' 
 
 And truly enough, in a few moments Hew 
 opeued his eyes, and gazed vaguely at the 
 doctor and Maxwell ; a little later he recognised
 
 A NIGHT MEETING. 227 
 
 them, but was still wholly puzzled, and closed 
 his eyes wearily. When he next opened them 
 it was with recovered memory. 
 
 ' Maxwell, what do you know of what hap- 
 pened to-night?' 
 
 4 1 thought I heard voices, sir, about a 
 quarter-of-an-hour after you had left me — but 
 there was no mistake when I heard a pistol- 
 shot. I waited a bit to see what would follow, 
 and then called out to know if anything was 
 wrong. There was no answer, and I confess I 
 began to get a bit frightened. I thought that 
 perhaps you had been murdered, and that it 
 might be my turn next. I wasn't a coward 
 long, however, and called out again and again, 
 so, getting no answer, I drove forward, and, 
 just as I came near you, I heard the sound of a 
 horse retreating at full gallop.' 
 
 'Did you see the man who was on the 
 horse V 
 
 ' I saw neither horse nor man, sir.' 
 
 1 Did you notice anything else V 
 
 * There was a piece of paper in your hand, 
 sir, and, thinking it might be something of 
 
 Q2
 
 228 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 value, I took it out and put it in your waistcoat 
 pocket.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Maxwell, I won't forget the 
 service you've done me. You may go now ; 
 but, remember, not a word of this to anyone.'
 
 229 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 
 
 As soon as Maxwell had left the room, Armitage 
 asked Dr. Steele to remove the piece of paper 
 from his waistcoat-pocket and to read what was 
 on it. The doctor had just extracted it when 
 Hew changed his mind, calling out, 
 
 4 Excuse me, I'll read it myself, after all.' 
 A few words in pencil only, that ran thus : 
 ' If you have any care for your wife's reputa- 
 tion, let me hear from you on the terms I men- 
 tioned, by to-morrow evening at latest, at the 
 " Buccleuch Arms," Dundee.' 
 
 ' You must now compose yourself, Armitage,' 
 said Dr. Steele. ' A sound sleep will do you a 
 world of good, and you will waken up with
 
 230 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 nothing more than a bad head-ache and a little 
 pain/ 
 
 Already the skill of the physician had greatly 
 alleviated Hew's suffering, and under the influ- 
 ence of a composing draught he soon fell into a 
 deep sleep. 
 
 ' I had meant to have told him to-morrow 
 about Mona's letter, but will have to postpone it 
 for a time. It might end fatally just now ;' and, 
 with a sorrowful look in the keen eyes that 
 looked out from the stern, rugged face, Dr. 
 Steele returned to his room. 
 
 As the doctor had prophesied, Armitage woke 
 next morning wonderfully well considering all 
 things. An hour passed before anyone came to 
 see if he were yet awake, and during this time 
 he thought out the drift of present circum- 
 stances. 
 
 He had come to the conclusion that he might 
 serve a double end by acceding to Leith's pre- 
 posterous request, though, when first his con- 
 sciousness had returned, and he had dwelt upon 
 the matter, he had without hesitation decided 
 in the negative. Not only would he be able to
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 231 
 
 stop further scandal about Mona (for he had 
 now determined to let it be publicly known that 
 his wife had left home, but to do so with a 
 statement by Dr. Steele to the effect that her 
 brain was affected, and that she was irrespon- 
 sible for her actions), but he might be able to 
 find out something of her whereabouts by a 
 careful watch being kept on Leith. As for the 
 money, it never entered into his mind to grudge 
 it, if it served his end. After breakfast, he 
 caused a telegram to be sent to the latter, 
 stating simply that ' Mr. Armitage would com- 
 municate with Mr. Leith as soon as physically 
 able.' Aware of Armitage's robust physique as 
 Dr. Steele was, he was hardly prepared to find 
 him so well after the events of the previous 
 night. The bullet, however, had only caused 
 an irritating but not dangerous wound, and, 
 though the blow of the pistol-butt had been 
 severe, it had left nothing behind it but a 
 painful bruise that entailed constant head- 
 ache. 
 
 Hew determined not to acquaint Dr. Steele 
 with particulars just at present, for something
 
 232 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 warned him (though he would not have allowed 
 this even to himself) that his friend was far from 
 being at his ease on the subject of Mrs. Armi- 
 tage's flight. So he told him that something 
 had occurred which he would rather not speak 
 about just at present, but which he would 
 explain later on. 
 
 The day passed and brought no news of 
 Mona. She seemed to have disappeared as if 
 she had sunk into the earth or melted into the 
 air — for, though once or twice apparent traces 
 of her had been found, they led to nothing. In 
 a letter from Warner, that experienced detec- 
 tive gave it as his opinion that she was either 
 in hiding in some remote place or that she was 
 ill and unconscious, though not in any hospital 
 in Scotland. At the same time, he added, it 
 was possible she had gone south and crossed 
 the Channel, or become lost in London itself. 
 He did not think she had sailed on any long 
 voyage from either any Scottish or English 
 port. 
 
 After much thought, Armitage wrote to Leith 
 as follows :
 
 a snake in the grass. 233- 
 
 'Sir, 
 
 * Until within an hour or two ago, I 
 could not have believed it possible that I could 
 have brought myself to communicate with you. 
 It would probably be a matter of regret to you 
 that your murderous attempt had not succeeded, 
 were it not that you would thus have to do 
 without the money you demanded. If ever we 
 meet again, and under circumstances where I 
 hold myself free to act, you will find that I have 
 not forgotten the incidents of last night. 
 
 ' Meanwhile, my sole care is for my wife's 
 reputation. I believe in her innocence in every- 
 thing as I believe in my religion, but I know 
 how ready the breath of scandal is to blast the 
 purest character. For this, and for this alone, I 
 am willing to treat with you. But regarding 
 you as I do — namely, as an unmitigated scoun- 
 drel, it is not likely I am going to hand you 
 over the sum you demand in quite such a ready 
 manner as you suggested. Here are my con- 
 ditions, which you can accept or not as you 
 please, but from which I will not deviate in the 
 least particular : —
 
 234 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 c 1. I will send you, on hearing of your 
 agreement to the following, one hundred pounds 
 in earnest of my promise to ultimately hand you 
 one thousand pounds. 
 
 ' 2. To allow time for the papers to contra- 
 dict the scandalous assertions to which they gave 
 expression (possibly on information directly or 
 indirectly supplied by you), and to permit of 
 the truth being made public in the way or ways 
 I consider most satisfactory, I name the date of 
 settlement as this day fortnight. 
 
 ' 3. If by that time Mrs. Armitage should be 
 found, or should herself return, I will still pay 
 you the remainder of the sum agreed upon, but 
 on condition that you leave for Australia or 
 New Zealand for good. (I need not say I use 
 the last words colloquially.) 
 
 ' 4. Finally, you must hand me at the time of 
 settlement an explicit written statement deny- 
 ing that you know anything detrimental to my 
 wife's character, and that whatever you may 
 have said to anyone was said under misunder- 
 standing, and absolutely without basis. 
 
 ' These are my conditions.
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 235 
 
 ' I may remark, however, that the game is by 
 no means so much in your hands as you seem 
 to imagine. I have already taken care that if, 
 on receipt of this, you should decide not to wait 
 here any longer, you will not be allowed to 
 leave Dundee, but will at once be arrested by 
 a detective on suspicion of being at least a 
 party to the late forgery on my firm. You 
 forget that your friend, Mr. Murdoch, may have 
 turned against you. 
 
 ' I have told the bearer to bring me your 
 answer. If you are agreeable to> my terms. I 
 will at once telegraph to the detective in my 
 employment and inform him that no watch need 
 be kept to prevent your leaving Dundee if you 
 so will. 
 
 ' Hew Armitage.' 
 
 With this message Maxwell went into Dundee 
 by the first train available. It was already 
 dusk when he reached the ' Buccleuch Arms.' 
 On asking for Mr. Charles Lcith, the waiter 
 requested his name, and returned in a few min- 
 utes with the remark that Mr. Lcith would see
 
 236 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Mr. Armitage's messenger if lie would walk up- 
 stairs to No. 30, on the first-floor. 
 
 When Maxwell entered the room he at once 
 recognised the gentleman who had dined some 
 months previously at Firnie Knowe. Leith had 
 been walking up and down impatiently, but 
 swung round sharply when the messenger was 
 announced. 
 
 Perhaps he suspected some kind of trap, but, 
 after a quick, keen scrutiny, he either recog- 
 nised the man's face or became satisfied that he 
 was a bond-fide messenger. 
 
 Taking the letter, he opened it swiftly, and a 
 slight flush came into his face when he saw 
 there was no enclosure. The frown on his 
 face deepened as he read on, but, when he came 
 to the concluding portion of the letter, his 
 face grew deadly pale for a moment, but 
 whether with rage or fear Maxwell, of course, 
 could not guess, though he noticed at once the 
 marked change from composure to agitation. 
 
 Leaving the room abruptly, Leith disap- 
 peared into an inner chamber, and his visitor 
 heard him walking to and fro as if in great per-
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 237 
 
 plexity. Leith could not make out Armitage's 
 note at all to his satisfaction. 
 
 'How much does he know?' he muttered, 
 ' and what does he mean about Murdoch ? I 
 know he's on the wrong scent, but any odd clue 
 might lead to unpleasant consequences. I'd be 
 better out of all this ; still, if I could get that 
 thousand out of him, it would both be a nice 
 little revenge and of the utmost importance to 
 me. But what does he mean by saying he 
 would have me arrested ? He's a fool, after all, 
 with all his cleverness ; for I suppose it never 
 struck him that I could send an answer in the 
 affirmative and then get slick away immediate- 
 ly after I had received his hundred. Wonder 
 if he's going to have my movements watched 
 all the same ? I don't like staying in Dundee 
 another fortnight, so I'll run up to Aberdeen for 
 that period. I know no one there, I think ; 
 and if I am followed on the chance of finding me 
 near that errant damsel, it's some pleasure to 
 reflect that it'll be a wild-goose chase. As for 
 Murdoch, my good friend Armitage, you played 
 that trump uselessly some time ago, so it's
 
 238 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 rather stale now ; let me see, Murdoch sailed 
 the afternoon before last from Liverpool, so that 
 the telegram from him via Queenstown is all 
 right. A good job for him if he gets away safe 
 to America, judging from what I know of some 
 recent escapades of his. So he expects to 
 meet me in New York, does he ? Blessed are 
 those who expect nothing, for they shall not be 
 disappointed— and that's your case, my friend. 
 Yes, I think it's safe enough — though, curse 
 him for keeping me waiting, and curse him 
 again and again for this slash across the face, 
 a mark that won't leave me for many a day 
 yet. Well, I'll answer briefly and to the point, 
 simply saying that I agree to his conditions in 
 all things. We'll see who's cleverest in the end, 
 Mr. Hew Armitage.' 
 
 When Leith entered the front room again, he 
 was smiling and courteous, though his courtesy 
 made Maxwell uncomfortable, and his smile was 
 more treacherous than ever, almost diabolic, 
 indeed, owing to its accentuation by the livid 
 purple band across the pale face, caused by 
 Armitage's heavy horsewhip.
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 239 
 
 * You will give this to Mr. Arinitage, please, 
 with my kind regards. Has anything been 
 heard of Mrs. Arrnitage yet % By-the-by, what 
 is your name? Eh, Maxwell? Well, Max- 
 well, I'm one of your master's oldest and best 
 friends, and this trouble of his has quite upset 
 me. What's thought about it at Firnie 
 Knowe?' 
 
 6 Don't know, sir, I'm sure,' replied the man, 
 shortly. 
 
 1 Ah, look here, have some whisky. It's a cold 
 day, and you have a good way to get back. 
 What'll you have V 
 
 1 Nothing, sir, if it's all the same to you. I'll 
 take that letter, if you please, and be off.' 
 
 ' In a moment. But just tell me first what you 
 have heard as to the opinion held by Mr. Gavin 
 and Dr. Steele.' 
 
 * I don't know nothing about it, sir, and am 
 not here to answer questions about my master's 
 private affairs.' 
 
 ' Quite right, quite right. But then, you 
 see, I have just been asked by your master to 
 do all in my power to help him solve the
 
 210 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 mystery, because he knows I've a natural gift 
 in the detective line, and so it's necessary that 
 I hear all that's been done and thought by 
 other people. Now, if you never yourself heard 
 anything said by Gavin or Dr. Steele, you 
 must have talked it over with the other ser- 
 vants ; or, at any rate, you can at least give me 
 your own opinion. I want to put everything 
 down in black and white, so I tell you what I'll 
 do. You tell me everything that happened 
 that you know of, and what your own opinions 
 are, and I will give you a sovereign for your 
 trouble. , 
 
 Leith's mingled command and persuasive- 
 ness made Maxwell hesitate a moment, but 
 his almost obstinate sense of loyalty prevent- 
 ed his in any way betraying the trust in him 
 until he had first spoken to his master on the 
 subject. 
 
 ' It seems to me, sir, that the simplest way 
 would be for you to speak yourself to Mr. Gavin 
 and Dr. Steele, if so be as you're so much in- 
 terested. As for my giving you an account of 
 what I've noticed myself, I won't say another
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 241 
 
 word about the matter until I have Mr. Armi- 
 tage's consent/ 
 
 Seeing that nothing was to be got out of the 
 man, Leith's manner changed at once, and 
 became unpleasantly imperative. 
 
 'Are you going straight back to Firnie 
 Knowe V 
 
 ' I'm going by the first train that's suitable/ 
 
 ' Have you any other message to deliver in 
 Dundee V 
 
 'If there's time, I may be handing in a 
 message somewhere. The gardener or some 
 one always wants something.' 
 
 ' What I want to know is, have you any other 
 message to deliver from Mr. Armitage'?' 
 
 ' Well, I'm not sure but what I have/ 
 
 'Where tor 
 
 ' Oh, it's only some trifling private thing/ 
 
 ' Has he given you a letter to deliver at the 
 central police-office V 
 
 ' If Fve time, I'm to look in and see if Mr. 
 Gavin's got any news/ 
 
 'Curse your infernal Scotch caution,' cried 
 Leith, losing all control at the man's imper- 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 tnrb ability. < Get out of this, and look sharp, 
 or I'll help you downstairs in a way you 
 won't relish. There's the note for your master, 
 and the next time I see him I'll tell him 
 what an insufferable idiot he has in his em- 
 ployment. ' 
 
 There was a sly twinkle in Maxwell's 
 shrewd eyes as he said, while turning to leave 
 the room, 
 
 ' Very good, sir ; but Mr. Armitage has a fine 
 heavy horsewhip which you might find handier 
 to use on me at Fir me Knowe than trying to 
 kick me downstairs here ;' and he chuckled as 
 he heard a deep curse follow him as he closed 
 the door. 
 
 From the « Buccleuch Arms ' he went to 
 the central police-office, and handed in a 
 letter from Armitage to Gavin, wherein the 
 former requested the detective, or one of his 
 comrades, to keep an eye on Leith's move- 
 ments and whereabouts for the next fortnight, 
 but not to arrest him or detain him in any way 
 so long as he did not endeavour to leave the 
 country.
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 243 
 
 6 Who's this Leith, I wonder, whom he's sus- 
 picious of now?' the detective muttered, ou 
 perusing this note and the appended particulars 
 about the gentleman in question. 'This has 
 been the most muddled-up case I've ever had 
 to do with, for I can get next to no information 
 from Mr. Armitage himself. That his wife is a 
 guilty accessory, to say the least of it, there's 
 not a shadow of doubt ; but what has she clone 
 with herself? She's a clever one, she is. 
 Leith, Leith — well, it's my private opinion that 
 this is simply a blind on your part, Mr. Armi- 
 tage, to divert my attention to the wrong 
 quarter. I'll let Macdonald take this job on 
 hand, and keep myself ready in case anything 
 nearer the mark should turn up. Bother it all, 
 there seems no doubt about it that it was Mur- 
 doch who sailed in the Empire for America ; but, 
 so far as can be learned, there's absolutely no 
 trace of the lady. If she has not sailed before 
 he did, and tries to do so now from any British 
 port, she'll be nabbed. I only wish she'd try. 
 As for Murdoch, he'll be caught all right at 
 t'other side. But whether they'll agree to do 
 
 R 2
 
 244 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 anything more than detain him a bit isn't likely, 
 unless we can definitely accuse him of some- 
 thing criminal. If only they've gone together, 
 the rest will be smooth sailing ; but unfortunate- 
 ly this can hardly prove to be the case. How- 
 ever, we ought to be having a States' telegram 
 here in a fortnight or so.' 
 
 In accordance with Armitage's instructions, a 
 man, carefully disguised, was set to watch 
 Leith's movements. On the day following Max- 
 well's interview with the latter, he received at 
 his hotel a cheque which he asked the landlord 
 to cash or have cashed for him ; and the same 
 afternoon he was traced to the railway station, 
 was observed taking a ticket for Aberdeen, and 
 was duly followed to that city by the disguised 
 constable. 
 
 It was with a feeling of relief that Armitage 
 received Leith's acceptance of his conditions. 
 Although at times he was wholly sceptical as to 
 what the latter had told him, or indeed as to his 
 having any knowledge whatever of his wife's 
 reasons for flight and her present whereabouts, 
 at other times he would feel convinced that this
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 245 
 
 man must know something, that he had pro- 
 bably ascertained directly or indirectly some 
 important data, and that, if he would only be 
 unremittingly watched, he might, unknown to 
 himself, be the means of the discovery of Mona. 
 
 Once or twice a great fear had come over 
 him that his wife was where no human search 
 would find her — that her body lay deep in some 
 lonely pool, or swayed about amongst the sea- 
 weed — but he became comforted by the lack of 
 all evidence to support this supposition. 
 
 With that vain self-conviction with which 
 each of us practises such successful delusion, 
 he said to himself that he felt she was still 
 alive, and that they would yet meet, and once 
 more be happy together. 
 
 Dr. Steele still remained an invalid, not hav- 
 ing quite recovered from the over-exertion he 
 had put himself to on the eventful day of Mrs. 
 Armitage's disappearance ; but deeply as Armi- 
 tage sympathised with him he could hardly 
 understand his old friend's extreme reticence on 
 the subject of Mona. Formerly he had been all 
 affectionate interest, sympathy, and encourage-
 
 246 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 merit ; now he said nothing as to his belief that 
 all would yet come right. 
 
 For his part, Dr. Steele only said to himself 
 again and again — ' When am I to tell him ? 
 When am I to show him that fatal letter?'
 
 247 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 
 
 A week passed, and no news came to render 
 Armitage's trial more bearable, if even by dire- 
 ful certainty. From the letter received from 
 the officer who had followed Leith to Aberdeen, 
 he learned that though that person's movements 
 had often been abrupt and mysterious they had 
 led to nothing as yet. No news from Perth, or 
 Glasgow, or Edinburgh — surely a human being 
 could hardly disappear so thoroughly, especially 
 one such as Mona, burdened and easily recog- 
 nisable as she was by having her child with 
 her. But had she the child ? Perhaps not ; and 
 Hew turned faint for a moment as he thong] it of 
 all the possibilities opened up by such a surmise.
 
 248 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 But through all doubt — and this at times was 
 almost overwhelming — through the suspicion of 
 others, the tendency of direct and indirect 
 evidence, he clung to his faith in his wife. His 
 love, always high and noble, now demon- 
 strated its depth of tenderness. Sorrow had 
 softened its nature and more finely attuned it 
 than any unbroken happiness could have 
 accomplished; and, whereas he would some 
 time ago have met the realisation of Mona's 
 perfidy with agonised scorn, he now felt that 
 love such as his could not so easily be slain, 
 that he would love and forgive even to the 
 end. 
 
 Never for a moment did he believe in the 
 possibility of her guilt in connection with the 
 forgery ; he felt that he would hardly credit it 
 from her own lips. Great love cannot stoop 
 to base suspicion. Mona could do no base act, 
 he felt assured ; for in the depth of his faithful 
 and abiding love he would have invented ample 
 excuses for her for simply having left him — he 
 would not have been kind or sympathetic 
 enough, she had loved some one else before she
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 249 
 
 Lad met him, and the old magic had asserted 
 its sway ; she had been mesmerised by an 
 unprincipled scoundrel ; her mind had been 
 affected, and she knew not what she was doing. 
 These and fifty other excuses, if necessary, he 
 would at once have brought forward. 
 
 If she only knew, he thought, what agony he 
 was suffering, and how much greater than ever 
 his love had become, she would surely come 
 back to him, or at least send some message. 
 His great hope now was that Mona would be 
 found in some out-of-the-way place, perhaps in 
 a fever, but carefully tended by kindly poor 
 people; and that it would in due time be 
 proved that she had left Firnie Knowe unknow- 
 ing what she did. 
 
 It was with a feeling of almost sickening 
 despair that Armitage watched day after day 
 going past and bringing no news. He had 
 latterly pinned his chief hope on something 
 being found out from close observation of Leith, 
 but by the time the fortnight was almost up 
 he at last realised that he must expect nothing 
 in that quarter. Or rather, he saw that Leith,
 
 250 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 consciously or unconsciously, would not let him 
 learn anything if it were possible to prevent it, 
 and that there was no use hoping for anything 
 in this direction until the man was paid the money 
 and left free to act as he pleased. 
 
 One morning Hew found among his letters 
 one with the Perth postmark, which he opened 
 with trembling eagerness. It was not, how- 
 ever, from the Intelligence Office, but, to his 
 great surprise, from Leith, and was to the effect 
 that it would be more convenient for him to 
 meet Armitage there than at Dundee. At the 
 last moment Armitage had wisely determined 
 to take Mr. Gavin more into his confidence, and 
 to ask him to undertake the difficult task of 
 keeping Leith in sight after the money was 
 paid and the bargain concluded. This plan he 
 gave up when he learned that the meeting was 
 to be in Perth, deciding to employ one of the 
 Perth detective staff instead. 
 
 The appointed hour was noon, and he had 
 just time to catch the late morning train, due in 
 Perth a few minutes before that hour. When 
 within a mile or two of the town, the train was
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 251 
 
 obstructed for about twenty minutes, so that, to 
 his extreme regret, Hew found he would be 
 half-an-hour late by the time he got to the 
 Koyal Hotel. He had meant to have gone first 
 to the Intelligence Department, but now con- 
 cluded to go straight to the hotel. 
 
 ' Yes,' he was told, ' Mr. Leith would see 
 him in his private room.' 
 
 < When did Mr. Leith arrive?' 
 
 ■ Last night, sir, as a guest, though he was 
 here in the forenoon to engage rooms and 
 write a letter.' 
 
 ' He's been here before, hasn't he V 
 
 1 No, sir, he's quite a stranger.' 
 
 As Armitage followed the waiter he wondered 
 if there was anything of importance under- 
 neath this sudden change of the place of meet- 
 ing, and while still turning the matter over in 
 his mind, he was shown into a room. 
 
 Leith rose and bowed with exaggerated 
 courtesy, begging his visitor to be seated. 
 Taking no notice either of the salutation or the 
 request, Hew remained standing, and, before 
 breaking the ice, fixed a long, steady gaze on
 
 252 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Leith's face, under which that gentleman visibly- 
 winced. 
 
 ' I understood, Mr. Leith, that we were to 
 have met on this day at the " Buccleuch Arms " 
 in Dundee V 
 
 'Yes, only I found Perth would be more 
 convenient for me,' replied Leith, in a tone of 
 insulting rudeness. 
 
 Hew flushed, but with an effort controlled 
 himself, knowing how much might depend on 
 not further increasing his companion's resent- 
 ment. 
 
 ' I will make no remark on your manner of 
 expressing your reason. But I beg that we may 
 -at once come to the point. Have you the letter 
 ready which I demanded V 
 
 < That is it there.' 
 
 Hew took it up and read it slowly from begin- 
 ning to end. It was certainly succinctly enough 
 worded, and, so far as Leith was concerned in the 
 scandal, was entirely satisfactory. Stepping to 
 the side of the room he rang the bell. 
 
 * What is that for ?' asked Leith, abruptly, and 
 with a quick motion of his hand to his side-
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 253 
 
 pocket, as if about to draw forth some weapon. 
 
 'You need not alarm yourself. I simply 
 desire what you must yourself know to be 
 indispensable — witnesses.' 
 
 ' On the contrary, I do not at all recognise the 
 necessity, and emphatically protest against any- 
 thing of the kind.' 
 
 ' It has got to be done, whether you approve 
 or not. You see, Mr. Charles Leith, it is just 
 within the bounds of possibility that you should 
 one day declare this signature of yours to be a 
 forgery, or even to state that it was wrung from 
 you by undue pressure. It might be difficult for 
 me to prove my position, you understand V 
 
 Before any reply could be made, the bell was 
 answered. 
 
 ' Waiter, is the landlord or the account-clerk 
 at hand?' 
 
 < The landlord's in the next room, sir, giving 
 some directions about a gentleman's luggage.' 
 
 4 Then ask him to kindly step here for a mo- 
 ment, and return with him yourself.' 
 
 In a minute the paper was duly witnessed by 
 the two men, Armitage having explained that the
 
 •254 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 gentleman before them had signed this paper in 
 refutation of a baseless scandal, and that, to make 
 the denial more convincing, they had decided to 
 have it witnessed. 
 
 As soon as the witnesses had gone, Armitage 
 folded up the letter and put it in his pocket- 
 book. 
 
 e I see you resent this formality, Mr. Leith.' 
 ' Hand me over the sum agreed on,' replied 
 the latter, sullenly. Mentally he was cursing his 
 folly in not having first got the money, when he 
 might have played the high hand or not as he 
 liked. 
 
 * One or two questions first, if it's all the same 
 to you. Be so good as to enlighten me as to 
 what you know concerning Mrs. Armitage's de- 
 parture from Firnie Knowe.' 
 
 * You remember meeting me at the cross-roads 
 on the night of your wife's flight V 
 
 Hew winced at this way of putting it, but re- 
 plied at once in the affirmative, adding that he 
 did not think Leith had recognised him at the 
 time. 
 
 * Yes, I did, and I also heard you calling out.
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 255 
 
 But it wasn't likely I was going to stop, was 
 it!' 
 
 < Why not V 
 
 1 Well, you see, you might have put some 
 awkward questions — and I — ah — let me see — I 
 had an engagement. Moreover, you were going 
 in the right direction — ha, ha !' 
 
 1 What do you mean V 
 
 ' You were going in the right direction — to 
 miss Mona !' 
 
 ' By heaven ! if you speak once more thus 
 familiarly of my wife, you will have cause to 
 bitterly regret it.' 
 
 ' Oh, we were old friends, you know, before she 
 ever saw you. However, it's all one to me.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to tell me that you knew my 
 wife had gone in some other direction than in 
 that of Perth, and that you allowed me to waste 
 such infinitely precious time in vain pursuit V 
 
 < Yes.' 
 
 ' Charles Leith, you are a base and cruel scoun- 
 drel, as well as a liar and coward.' 
 
 ' Ah, you've said that or something like it once 
 or twice before, if I'm not mistaken. Try some-
 
 256 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 thing new : it ^ might relieve your feelings, and 
 won't hurt me. But when you've done perhaps 
 you will hand me over that money and then take 
 yourself off. You will get no more information 
 out of me further than this — that I happened to 
 come across your wife after she left home, that 
 I learned from her her determination to put an 
 end to herself rather than return to you, and that 
 she is now safely out of this country.' 
 
 ' Where is she at this moment V 
 
 ' Couldn't say. I know she left Scotland, that's 
 all' 
 
 ' Charles Leith, you don't leave this room till 
 you give me such information as is in your 
 power. According to agreement, I have brought 
 you the money in notes, but not one of them do 
 you see until you have told me all/ 
 
 ' This is a breach of faith. I never bound my- 
 self to give you details. However, all I can 
 give you will be of little service to you. So I'll 
 give you two links in the chain, and if you can 
 manage to find the end of it, you're welcome.' 
 
 ' Well V asked Hew, with uncontrollable 
 eagerness.
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 257 
 
 < Firstly — I know that on the same night you 
 went to Perth she went to Leith (the town of 
 Leith, ha, ha! curious coincidence that, isn't 
 it ?) and that there she embarked in a steamer 
 which sailed in the early morning for An- 
 twerp. From Antwerp she went to Hamburg. 
 Secondly, within three days from this I will 
 send you word as to where she is at the time I 
 write. Further than this I know nothing myself.' 
 
 ' But how are you to hear what her move- 
 ments are V 
 
 ' That's my business ; but it's not from her, if 
 that's what you're after. It's nothing now to 
 me whether you find her again or not. You're 
 welcome, so far as I'm concerned. I promise 
 that you will hear from me in three days. If my 
 informant has lost sight of her, I will give you 
 the latest clue in my possession. I decline 
 absolutely to say another word. For that 
 matter, I couldn't, unless I were to invent some- 
 thing, because I know nothing more.' 
 
 6 Do you swear that you are ignorant of what 
 she is going to do after leaving Hamburg V 
 
 ' She will have left Hamburg before this, but 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 I am as ignorant as yourself of her intentions or 
 her destination. I swear to send you some in- 
 formation within three days, if I get it myself ; 
 if not, I will even let you have the address of 
 my informant, and you can catch up^the clue from 
 him if you can.' 
 
 < But why ' 
 
 4 Look here, Hew Armitage, I have neither 
 time nor patience to argue any more on this sub- 
 ject. I tell you frankly that I have no longer 
 such need of the money you have brought me, 
 my difficulties having been tided over. So, if 
 you do not settle with me at once, I will de- 
 mand back that letter (which as a man of honour 
 you could not refuse), and will retain complete 
 freedom of action as to what I will say or do. 
 One certain result would ensue — namely, the 
 absolute disappearance of even the faintest trace 
 of your wife. I am not going to answer another 
 question, and you may decide as you choose. 
 Which is it to be V 
 
 For reply Armitage silently laid on the table 
 a thick bundle of notes, which Leith took up 
 and counted carefully.
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 259 
 
 'I have one word to say. Charles Leith, 
 if you are playing me false, you will yet have 
 bitter cause to rue it. But — but,' and here 
 Armitage struggled with his passion, ' if I find 
 that my wife has come to shame or sorrow 
 through you, I will follow you to the ends of 
 the earth, and kill you without respite whenso- 
 ever and wheresoever I may find you. Man,' he 
 went on, wildly, ' it is since you first came on the 
 scene that all this unhappiness began. Accord- 
 ing to the evil you have done, may God do unto 
 you!' 
 
 'Oh, I'll take my chance/ sneered Leith, 
 mockingly, ' and so now I will wish you good- 
 day, and — good-bye, Mr. Hew Armitage.' 
 
 An hour later, by Hew's directions, messages 
 were flashed along the wires to Hamburg, 
 Antwerp, and other North-Sea ports, for a 
 sudden hope had come to him that he might 
 forestall any treachery by Leith, and that the 
 German or Belgian detectives might be able 
 to find Mona, either in some town, or at the 
 moment of embarkation. He never realised 
 that Leith may have lied to him from first to last. 
 
 s2
 
 260 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Before returning to Firnie Knowe, he arranged 
 that a detective should follow the latter and 
 report daily. 
 
 It was already growing dark, though not long 
 after three o'clock, when Leith settled his bill 
 at the ' Royal Hotel ' and drove to the railway 
 station. A short time before, the detective had 
 seen him go out, and had followed him to the 
 Bank of Scotland, and had noticed him change 
 a large bundle of Scotch for English notes and 
 gold. If he imagined that Leith was unconscious 
 of his presence he was mistaken, for the latter, 
 who had fully expected that such surveillance 
 would be instituted, had kept a careful look-out, 
 and soon discovered that he was followed. It did 
 not, however, discompose him, and he certainly 
 did not exhibit the least symptom of uneasiness. 
 
 When he reached the station, it was just as 
 the express for the south arrived, so there was 
 little time to spare. He did not look behind him 
 as he stood at the ticket office, but he could not 
 help smiling as he knew who the person just 
 behind him was, and what his reason was for 
 pressing so close to him.
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 261 
 
 'First single to Edinburgh,' he said to the 
 booking-clerk, in a loud and distinct voice, add- 
 ing, ' How long will this give me in Edinburgh 
 before the night mail leaves there for London'?' 
 
 ' About three hours, sir.' 
 
 ' Ah, that will suit me nicely,' and, still 
 smiling furtively, Leith ensconced himself in 
 one of the Edinburgh carriages. 
 
 Putting his head out of the window and hail- 
 ing a paper boy, he noticed that his follower 
 was getting into a third-class compartment in 
 the same carriage as himself. At the first 
 station at which the train stopped he rose and 
 looked out, and by a coincidence his follower 
 had also risen, and was also looking out. Lar- 
 bert Junction had to be passed, and then there 
 were no more stoppages till Edinburgh was 
 reached. When the train drew up at the 
 former, the detective got out, and strolled past 
 the compartment in which Leith was seated, 
 his mind being put at ease by observing that 
 the latter was apparently sound asleep. 
 
 ' That's all right,' he muttered, as he got 
 back to his own compartment just as the train
 
 262 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 was again in motion ; and * that's all right,' 
 said Leith, as he found himself alone, his 
 previous fellow-traveller having got out at 
 Larbert. 
 
 The moment the train stopped at the Hay- 
 market Station for the collection of tickets, the 
 detective kept a close watch on the door of the 
 compartment in front of him. A gentleman got 
 in, the ticket-collector closed the door, and 
 three minutes later the terminus was reached. 
 The train had not come to a stop ere the 
 detective was on the platform, keeping close to 
 the compartment into which he had seen Leith 
 deposit himself. Some one got out — not the 
 person whom he wanted; but why did the 
 latter not come forth ? Was he still sleeping ? 
 Advancing to the window, a glance was 
 sufficient to show that the compartment was 
 empty ! 
 
 ' Gone, by all that's living,' cried the amazed 
 officer. ' Why, he must have got out of the 
 train immediately after it left Larbert. Wait a 
 minute ! By Jove, it may be !' and, turning, he 
 went swiftly in the direction of the cabs. He
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 263 
 
 was just in time to see the person who had left 
 Leith's compartment get into a hansom. 
 
 ' Yes, the same height and build. A man 
 that can disguise himself like this would make 
 his fortune as a detective ;' and, in full assurance 
 that he had got his man safely after all, he 
 sprang into another hansom, and told the 
 driver on no account to lose sight of number 
 so-and-so. 
 
 As the vehicles rumbled up through the old 
 town, and away through Nicolson Street, the 
 detective again and again chuckled over 
 Leith's adroitness and at his over quick- witted- 
 ness; but he again was to be somewhat 
 astonished when Morningside on the right and 
 Newington on the left were passed, and they 
 went swiftly down-hill to Powburn. 
 
 At the last-named place the hansom came to 
 a stop, and the passenger got out, saying he 
 would take a short cut to his house across the 
 meadows. It was impossible for the latter not 
 to notice the hansom behind him, and it evi- 
 dently struck him that some friend was seeking 
 him out.
 
 264 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Coming up to the detective, who had been 
 thus awkwardly found in pursuit, he saw at 
 once that the latter was no acquaintance, but 
 politely asked if he could direct him, perceiving 
 as he did that he was a stranger. 
 
 ' No, thank you, sir ; much obliged, I'm sure ; 
 but I'm going to see a friend down the road a 
 bit. Alighted here to save the extra sixpence, 
 you know.' 
 
 'I see. Good evening.' 
 
 Turning to the driver of the first hansom, the 
 detective asked if he knew the person he had 
 been driving. 
 
 'To be sure I do. Everyone here knows 
 him. He's Mr. Hillyer, the famous advocate, 
 and that's his property over there, called the 
 Grange. It wasn't Mr. Hillyer ye was a-wantin', 
 I suppose?' 
 
 ' No, no ! thanks. I only wanted to know 
 who he was,' and, jumping into his own cab 
 again, he told the driver to lose no time in 
 getting back to Edinburgh. ' What a curs' d 
 fool I've been/ he muttered, with impartial
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 265 
 
 severity. ' He's given me the slip after all, con- 
 found bim. Wonder what the deuce he has done. 
 Did he get out at Larbert, and go to Glasgow ; 
 or did he go south to catch up the early even- 
 ing London express ; or did he get out short- 
 ly before we reached the Haymarket Station ? 
 I fancy the last must be the truth. I expect he 
 has something he must settle up in Edinburgh, 
 and that as soon as he has done this he'll dis- 
 guise himself and go on to London, as he in- 
 tended. He must have suspected something. 
 I'll telegraph to Glasgow and London as well, 
 and see if I can learn anything along the line 
 beyond Haymarket.' 
 
 While the detective was anathematising his 
 ill-fortune, and laying out many plans for regain- 
 ing the scent, Leith was standing on the pier at 
 Greenock waiting to be taken over to a sailing- 
 vessel that was in readiness to leave the Tail of 
 the Bank as soon as the last passenger was on 
 board. 
 
 The moment the train had steamed out of 
 Larbert Junction Leith had crossed to the other
 
 2(3() THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 side of the carriage, unlocked the door by a key- 
 he carried evidently on purpose, closed it as he 
 stood on the platform, but at first hesitated to 
 risk a spring on to the sloping bank. Seeing, 
 however, that every moment the engine was 
 increasing its speed, he half-fell, half-threw 
 himself backward, and rolled sprawlingly along 
 the grassy incline none the worse of his daring 
 feat save a torn nail on one of his fingers and a 
 bruise on the thigh. Losing no time, he at once 
 ran along the embankment, skirted a high 
 double-fence of young ashes and larches, and 
 saw before him the high-road without a sign of 
 life. Hiding himself behind a bend of the 
 hedge whence he could see all around him, he 
 made a careful scrutiny to see that he had not 
 been noticed and followed, when, having 
 satisfied himself, he crossed the road, and with 
 some difficulty, owing to the bruise he had 
 received, swung himself by a trailing bough 
 into a great beech. Before he had mounted it 
 half-way he saw what he wanted. Far away 
 to the right rose the white smoke of the engine, 
 showing that his risky leap had not been
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 267 
 
 noticed, or, if it had, that the train was not 
 to be stopped in consequence, and that no tele- 
 gram could be sent till Edinburgh was reached. 
 As soon as he gained the ground again he looked 
 at his watch, and saw that he was still in time 
 to get the train at Larbert Junction which 
 would take him west. Taking from his pocket 
 a small parcel, he soon, by means of a false beard 
 and wig, completely altered his appearance, and 
 immediately thereafter went rapidly along the 
 road in the direction of the station, arriving 
 just in time to get into a through carriage for 
 Greenock. 
 
 It had come on to rain heavily, and the wind 
 rose and shook the rushing train at times as if 
 it would hurl it from the rails. Above the noise 
 of the wheels and the jolt of the carnages could 
 be heard its mournful sough, rising into a blast 
 like a prolonged howl of fury ; and the engine- 
 drivers had difficulty in keeping their faces 
 from laceration by the sleet that every now 
 and again whirled against them. Lying back 
 against the cushions Leith grew ill at ease as the 
 wind increased in violence, and he turned
 
 268 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 away his face from the window as if more 
 effectually to shut out some unpleasant 
 thoughts. 
 
 ' It will be a wild night at sea,' he muttered. 
 ' I don't half like it, and yet anything would be 
 better than not getting away to-night. Let me 
 see — the wind's almost due north, and so will be 
 entirely in our favour. That's a good thing : 
 no hanging about the firth windbound for a 
 week, but slick away and well down the Irish 
 Sea before dawn. She sails at eight, so I expect 
 I'll be about the last passenger aboard.' 
 
 In due time Leith reached Greenock, but 
 found on gaining the pier that he was too 
 late for the small tug that had taken the other 
 passengers aboard. A man offered to take him 
 out in another tug for a sovereign, an offer which 
 he gladly enough accepted, as the sea was 
 already too high for any small boat to venture 
 on it with safety, and as, moreover, there was 
 not a moment to lose, the tide being already at 
 the turn. 
 
 He had barely gained the deck of the Austral- 
 asian when the anchor was up, and the great
 
 A STROKE IN THE DARK. 269 
 
 ship swung slowly from her moorings, and was 
 dragged easily after the steam-tug that was to 
 conduct her past the Cloch Lighthouse and then 
 leave her to begin her long journey to the other 
 side of the world. 
 
 Before the pilot left the vessel he offered, 
 according to custom, to take ashore any letters 
 or telegrams. Leith had a note already written ; 
 addressed to 'Hugh Armitage, Esq., Firnie 
 Knowe, by Dundee.' When he handed this to 
 the pilot (and he was the sole passenger who took 
 advantage of the latter' s offer), he gave him a 
 sovereign, on condition that he would not fail to 
 have the letter posted on the evening of the 
 following day. As he leaned on the little sofa 
 in his cabin, he pressed his face against the 
 round porthole which did duty as a window, and 
 caught a glimpse of the rising sea in the inter- 
 vals between the surging up of each successive 
 wave. His face was very pale, and became 
 almost ghastly in the wan light thrown 
 suddenly across it by each mass of white foam 
 that rushed past. But before he turned to 
 enter the saloon his old evil smile flickered
 
 270 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 about his mouth, for he was saying to himself, 
 ■ I'm in luck, indeed ; over a thousand pounds 
 in hand, and knowledge that I am fully revenged. 
 Certain revenge ; how I'll brood over that every 
 day of this voyage ! Curse you again and 
 again! Yes, Hew Armitage, you will wish, 
 two days hence, that you had left your horse- 
 whip behind you that night. I'm a scoundrel, a 
 reptile, am I? Perhaps — but I've had my 
 revenge, Hew Armitage.' 
 
 Out into the darkness and the storm-swept 
 sea went the labouring ship, no soul thereon 
 knowing whether unto life or unto death.
 
 271 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OP DEATH. 
 
 Armitage thought the two days after his 
 interview with Leith would never pass ; for 
 he clung with a great hope to the latter's 
 promise. 
 
 On the evening of the second day he received 
 three letters, each one of which was like another 
 stab in a sorely wounded body. One was 
 from Gavin to say that no trace of Mrs. 
 Armitage could be found in Hamburg, Antwerp, 
 or elsewhere, and reiterating the writer's belief 
 that nothing would now be heard until after the 
 arrival of the ship in which Murdoch had sailed. 
 With an imprecation Hew thrust this into the 
 fire.
 
 272 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 The second note was from the Perth office 
 enclosing the report of the detective who had 
 followed Leith from that town. To his intense 
 chagrin, Armitage found that the latter had 
 eluded all pursuit with apparently the utmost 
 ease, and that he had left absolutely no traces 
 behind him. This letter discouraged and 
 worried him greatly, and more and more the 
 further he thought the matter over. 
 
 The third letter was from Dr. Steele, and 
 was very short. It ran simply : 
 
 ' My Dear Friend, 
 
 ' I have something to tell 
 you which I can no longer postpone doing. It 
 is not good news, my poor boy, but you must 
 be brave.' 
 
 Strangely enough this last note did not 
 disturb Hew so much as the other. He well 
 knew that Dr. Steele no longer believed in his 
 wife's integrity, but it never entered into his 
 mind that he had any other cause therefor than 
 Gavin's prejudiced reasoning. A coolness had
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 273 
 
 arisen between them, for Armitage could not 
 help feeling bitterly disappointed that his old 
 friend should doubt Mona on even the most 
 startling evidence. Wearied out as he was, he 
 slept badly that night, and was up an hour 
 before the darkness grew into a cold chilly 
 grey. 
 
 He had meant to have ridden over to Firnie 
 Station in order to get Leith's expected note a 
 little sooner than he would by waiting at home, 
 but, now that the time was at hand, he felt a 
 strange reluctance to anticipate what news the 
 letter might bring him. 
 
 As a rule, the postman rode up to the lodge 
 a good half-hour before the breakfast time at 
 Firnie Knowe, but on this morning he was 
 late. 
 
 Hew kept pacing up and down the room, 
 unable to touch anything on the table, and at 
 last began to despair, as he concluded that 
 Leith must have played him false. At this 
 moment he heard the sound of wheels in the 
 avenue, and a little later Dr. Steele drove up 
 in his small phaeton. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Hew went to the door and welcomed him 
 politely if not cordially. His visitor noticed 
 this and sighed. 
 
 * I came over early to see you, Hew, in case 
 yon should think of going into Dundee to-day. 
 x\s I told you in my note, I have something to 
 tell you.' 
 
 1 1 am ready to hear what you have to say,' 
 replied Armitage, gravely; 'but can you first 
 tell me if you saw the postman as you came 
 along V 
 
 6 Yes, I did, and, as he told me there was only 
 one letter for you this morning, I brought it 
 with me. Here it is.' 
 
 'Thank you. Excuse me for a little,' said 
 Hew, with tremulous eagerness. ' Pray have 
 some breakfast while I go into the library. 
 This note is of the utmost importance.' 
 
 As soon as he gained the library, he tore open 
 the envelope, not without noticing, however, to 
 his surprise, that the postmark was that of 
 Greenock. 
 
 A mist swam before his eyes, and for a few 
 moments he could not see, but by an effort he
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OP DEATH. 275 
 
 steadied himself, and read the brief letter 
 through. 
 
 ' Hew Armitage, 
 
 'By the time you receive this, Mona 
 and I will be far at sea en route for Australia. 
 Do not be anxious about our means of subsistence, 
 for, in addition to the thousand pounds I have 
 received from you, she has brought with her 
 in gold another large sum. The same friend of 
 mine who gave her shelter when she left your 
 house, and kept her safe and quiet till after 
 the first flurry was over, has given us a passage 
 on board one of his vessels. Though there 
 are no other passengers, I do not think she 
 will ever regret having left you or having ac- 
 companied 
 
 ' Your humble servant, 
 
 ' Charles Leith. 
 
 < p.S. — I need hardly say that what I told you 
 in Perth was all bunkum. Mona and I had a 
 good laugh over it afterwards. By-the-by, the 
 child's dead.' 
 
 t2
 
 276 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 Though the colour ebbed slowly from Armi- 
 tage's face as he read this dastardly note, he 
 certainly did not take it all in during the first 
 reading. He turned it over and looked at it with 
 a strange, puzzled look in his eyes, a look which 
 gradually became intensified in a sustained 
 stare of agony. If ever despair, if ever over- 
 whelming misery burned in any mortal's eyes, it 
 was in those of Hew Armitage, as with a low 
 cry he realised at last the awful thing that had 
 come to him. 
 
 He stood still, staring at the paper ; his fren- 
 zied eyes moveless in the drawn, bloodless face. 
 His body swayed, and he sank helplessly down 
 beside a low chair. He lay thus in a kind of 
 stupor of agony, and apparently was entirely un- 
 conscious of Dr. Steele's anxious inquiry outside 
 the door, and subsequent entry. When the latter 
 entered, he got a great shock. Was it possible 
 that any blow, any shock, could so terribly pros- 
 trate and alter a man of such calibre as Hew 
 Armitage ; for he lay there as if he had aged pa- 
 thetically, helpless, hopeless, a man already aged. 
 
 Looking at the helpless, almost abject-
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 277 
 
 looking being before him, Dr. Steele recog- 
 nised that the one chance of saving Armitage 
 from death — or worse, madness — was to rouse 
 him into activity at whatever cost. He read 
 Leith's note, which, of course, only more thor- 
 oughly convinced him of Mona's guilt ; if he 
 could have held out any hope, he would have 
 done so, and persuaded his friend to be up 
 and away in swift pursuit of the traducer. 
 But under the circumstances all he could do 
 was to make Hew realise to the full that Mona 
 was unworthy — and that he owed it to himself 
 as a man not to yield to such extremity of 
 grief. 
 
 But he spoke apparently to deaf ears, 
 Hew either regarding him with a dull 
 vacant stare, or paying no attention what- 
 ever. 
 
 At last Dr. Steele half-pulled, half-lifted him 
 on to the chair, ran into the morning-room and 
 brought out some brandy, forcing thereafter 
 some of the liquid down Armitage's throat. It 
 seemed to touch the springs of life, for some 
 faint colour came into his drawn white face, and
 
 278 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 his eyes lost something of their fixed, glassy 
 stare. 
 
 e Armitage !' 
 
 4 Well V came back the answer, in a strange,, 
 muffled voice. 
 
 4 Hew, my friend, my poor boy, I know what 
 you are suffering, for I know your dreadful secret. 
 Do not restrain your grief; no man need be 
 ashamed of tears in a great sorrow.' 
 
 ' Well V in the same dull, harsh, monotonous 
 tone. 
 
 1 You must not give way to unmanly despair ; 
 you must realise that you have been deceived — 
 grossly, shamefully deceived.' 
 
 ' Curse him ! curse him ! curse him !' 
 
 ' It is not he alone. My boy, my boy, I am 
 sorry for you, but you must read this note ;' and 
 Dr. Steele placed before him the note he had 
 found on the dressing-table on the day Mona 
 had left. 
 
 8 1 did not give it to you before, but kept it in 
 the vain hope that something would bring her 
 back, or that you would find her.' 
 
 To Dr. Steele's almost startled amazement,
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 279 
 
 Hew sprang to his feet and was once more a man, 
 as of old. Changed he was, indeed, marked as 
 with the drawn lines of age and the veritable 
 lines of agony, but no longer stricken, helpless, 
 impotent. 
 
 Taking the note from Dr. Steele, he read it 
 aloud in a clear and firm voice. 
 
 6 It is a lie ; it is a forgery !' 
 
 1 Do you mean to say, Hew, that that is not 
 your wife's handwriting'?' 
 
 ' I mean to say that, if she wrote that note, it 
 was unknowing what she did. It is only 
 possible for me to believe two things — either 
 that she wrote it in mental frenzy, or that she 
 was forced to do so against her will by mag- 
 netic force.' 
 
 ' And who would exercise such a force V 
 
 < Charles Leith.' 
 
 1 But yon have no manner of proof that he, 
 in the first place, possesses the powers of a 
 mesmerist at all, and, in the second, none that 
 Mona ever proved susceptible to such in- 
 fluences.' 
 
 < If Mona wrote these words it is imposBthle
 
 280 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 to account for the fact by any other supposition. 
 Listen to me, Steele. If ever you hint to me 
 of my wife's imaginary guilt in the matter of 
 the forgery, it will be the last time we speak 
 to each other. But I tell you again that I do 
 not believe this document to be genuine. 
 The writing is almost identical with that of my 
 wife, but yet there is an indefinite something 
 about it which assures me that it is not 
 hers/ 
 
 ' Armitage, at the risk of losing your friend- 
 ship, I must tell you that I can see no differ- 
 ence, and that I believe any expert would bear 
 me out. Have you any writing of hers that 
 we could lay the two together V 
 
 'You will find endorsements and remarks 
 on the backs of some of the household bills 
 in the escritoire in the morning-room. Follow 
 me.' 
 
 When the escritoire was opened, Hew point- 
 ed to the portion which Mona had used for her 
 accounts. Dr. Steele pulled out some tied-up 
 bundles, and as he did so a note fluttered to the 
 ground. Stooping, he glanced through it
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 281 
 
 hastily, and suddenly asked Armitage if he had 
 not looked at this compartment since his wife's 
 departure. 
 
 * No ; why do you ask V 
 
 ' Read this.' And Hew, snatching the piece 
 of paper, read the following message : 
 
 ' This is to tell you that for my sake, for our 
 child's sake, for your own honour and reputa- 
 tion, you must let the matter of the forgery 
 rest. Hew, I am guilty and I alone. I tell you 
 this, because I know that we shall never meet 
 again. If you can forgive me, do so — but, 
 better still, forget me.' 
 
 ' Is that Mona's handwriting or not V 
 
 Armitage hesitated, and then admitted that 
 he could not say wherein it was not, but added 
 that it was a strange thing why the ink was of 
 a markedly different hue from that in which the 
 other endorsements and notes appeared. 
 
 1 Do you not see how this bears me out, 
 Steele? Granting that Mona did write these 
 words, the fact of their being in a different ink 
 and on a different kind of paper from what 
 she invariably used proves that she must have
 
 282 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 written it away from Firnie Knowe, and, there- 
 fore, as I am convinced, under evil mesmeric 
 influence.' 
 
 ' What you say is certainly strange, and there 
 may be something in it. What are you going 
 to dor 
 
 ' Do ? There is but one thing to do. I will 
 go at ODce to Glasgow (for that scoundrel's 
 remark about sailing from London is a manifest 
 blind), and will find out what ship he sailed in, 
 and who were the other passengers. If indeed 
 my poor, unfortunate darling should have been 
 seduced and led away by that fiend, I will 
 follow them. If I cannot save her happiness, 
 or my own, I can at any rate even yet save her 
 honour, and rescue our child, for I do not 
 believe that the little one is dead. If she had 
 died, the shock would have restored Mona to 
 her right mind, if she is indeed distracted, or it 
 would have broken the mesmeric thrall exer- 
 cised by Leith, if it is to his treacherous wiles 
 she owed her misery. And if — my God ! if I 
 find that I am too late — that Mona has sunk 
 under her burden — then I will follow him from
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 283 
 
 country to country, from place to place, till at 
 last God gives him over into my hands. There 
 will be no escape for him then V 
 
 'Armitage, you must not act rashly about 
 going to Australia. Kenect a moment. What 
 if Leith is deceiving you again as he deceived 
 you before 1 It is possible he is as ignorant as 
 any of us concerning Mona's whereabouts, and 
 that he is only endeavouring to have his revenge 
 by causing you as much suffering as it is 
 in his power to do.' 
 
 But evidently upon Hew's mind had become 
 branded the belief that Mona had succumbed 
 to Leith's mesmeric powers, and had been led 
 away against her will — had been forced to write 
 these notes, and was even now, perhaps, sink- 
 ing under the shame and agony which she 
 yet found impossible to overcome. 
 
 1 My resolve is fixed, Steele ; but, of course, I 
 will not sail until satisfied that I am not pur- 
 suing a mere idea.' 
 
 Action saved Hew Armitage. Had it not 
 been for his sudden resolve his brain would have 
 given way, or he would have died, perhaps by
 
 284 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 his own hand. The very strength of his nature 
 induced such an extremity of collapse. A less 
 trustful, less loyal, less passionate nature might 
 have stood the first shock better, but at the 
 deadly blow that had been struck it seemed 
 to Hew as if everything was gone — not only 
 happiness, honour, welfare, but also hope in 
 man, belief in good, trust in Divine power. 
 The world became a horrible chaos of dark- 
 ness, treachery, evil, mockery, agony, through 
 all washing incessantly a perpetual rain of 
 tears. 
 
 As the train that day whirled him towards 
 Glasgow, an acquaintance got into the same 
 compartment at some small station, but the 
 latter did not recognise Armitage, whom he 
 knew well but had not seen for some months. 
 
 On reaching the smoky city, Hew roused him- 
 self from his profound reverie, wherein a deadly 
 grief had brooded like a chilling vapour in a sun- 
 less valley. He went to the leading shipping- 
 agents, inquired what vessel or vessels had 
 sailed for Australia within the last week, and
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 285 
 
 learned that only one ship had gone, a well- 
 known trader called the Australasian, owned, 
 in company with two or three other large 
 vessels, by Messrs. Peacock & Co. To this firm 
 he at once went, and was informed that no one 
 bearing the name of Charles Leith had regis- 
 tered with them, but that a Mr. Charles had, 
 on the day of sailing, engaged a berth by tele- 
 gram, and had reached the ship just in time and 
 no more. By further inquiry he also ascertained 
 that the telegram was sent from Mr. Charles, at 
 the * Royal Hotel,' Perth, and that a telegraphic 
 reply in the affirmative was sent to him there. 
 He had engaged one berth only. It was in vain 
 that Armitage strove to discover if Mona had 
 sailed or not. A Mrs. Browne, who described 
 herself as a married woman going out to join 
 her husband, was a second-class passenger, but 
 she had no child ; there was also a young widow 
 named Robinson, who had a baby with her, 
 and went out in the steerage ; and there were 
 two married ladies, belonging to the saloon, 
 who were travelling by themselves, and who
 
 286 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 had given no unasked-for details. No, neither 
 had children ; yes, both called at the office at 
 the same time ; yes, one was young and very 
 pretty, and seemed in great distress ; no, he 
 (the clerk) had not heard them say anything 
 particular, beyond overhearing the elder lady 
 whisper to the other to be of good heart, 
 because it was all for the best. 
 
 * But what did the younger lady give as her 
 address V 
 
 i She declined to give any, sir ; and, seeing 
 that she was in trouble, I did not press her. She 
 paid the passage-money in full, and got all par- 
 ticulars, and I saw no more of her/ 
 
 Armitage returned to the hotel where he had 
 engaged a room, and there he found a telegram 
 from his business agent in London, informing 
 him that no ship had sailed therefrom within 
 the last six days, and that the first to go was the 
 Fair Hope, due to sail two days hence. In due 
 time he also received a telegraphic reply from 
 the proprietor of the ' Royal Hotel ' at Perth, 
 stating that Leith was the only person who had 
 left on the day in question, and that that morn-
 
 THE VALLEY OP THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 287 
 
 ing he (Leith) had received a telegram ad- 
 dressed to Mr. Charles, which he had beforehand 
 explained to the proprietor was his professional 
 name, he being an actor. 
 
 Finally, Hew went to Greenock and got what 
 information he could from the pilot who had 
 steered the Australasian out of the firth ; in- 
 formation which corroborated the certainty as 
 to Leith and * Charles ' being the same person, 
 but which afforded not the faintest clue to 
 Mona. However, he felt convinced that she 
 was on board the ship in question, and was one 
 of those persons whom the clerk had mentioned. 
 But if he had any lingering doubts they were 
 removed when he paid a second visit to Messrs 
 Peacock's office, and learned two important 
 things : firstly, that the clerk had made a mistake 
 in saying both the two lady cabin-passengers 
 were married women, for the younger and 
 prettier was registered as Miss Marshall ; and, 
 secondly, that some unforeseen accident must 
 have prevented the other lady, Mrs. Colquhoun, 
 from sailing, for the ship had had to leave with- 
 out her, and they had neither received nor sent
 
 288 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 any communication owing to the absence of an 
 address. 
 
 'I see it all, 5 thought Hew, as he walked 
 away — 'that devil in human shape has per- 
 suaded some one he knew that Mona was either 
 his wife or his sister, or perhaps even an orphan 
 girl engaged to him, and that she was to 
 be sent out to friends in Australia, where he 
 would shortly join her. Some such scheme as 
 this, I am certain, has been carried out. But 
 I will follow and save her/ 
 
 Within the next two days, Armitage had 
 made all arrangements for departure. The 
 head clerk in his firm was made a junior 
 partner, the servants at Firnie Knowe were 
 paid off, with the exception of the gardener and 
 his wife, the latter of whom had been, twenty 
 years ago, one of the servants in the Cameron 
 household, and in later days a kind of house- 
 keeper, and in full charge of the house Mrs. 
 Muir was now left. With Dr. Steele he had 
 a sad but friendly farewell, the former com- 
 forting his deep regret at what he thought 
 Hew's folly by the reflection that the latter
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 289 
 
 might, in action like this, more effectually shake 
 off his great sorrow. Mr. Gavin was disgusted > 
 maintaining that any moment news of essential 
 importance might come from America, to 
 which remonstrance Armitage paid no heed, as 
 he knew how absolutely the detective was on the 
 wrong scent. 
 
 Besides the large amount in gold and notes 
 which he took with him, in addition to drafts 
 on Melbourne agents, he took nothing of 
 importance except a gold case containing a 
 miniature portrait of his wife which she had 
 given him on the first anniversary of their 
 marriage. 
 
 No ship sailed from Glasgow for some time, 
 so he decided to go by thei^mV Hope, from Lon- 
 don, a swift vessel, which in all probability 
 would reach Melbourne before the Australasian, 
 despite the latter's good start. The name also 
 appealed to him, and he looked on it as an 
 augury. The stronger the emotion, the more 
 liable is human nature to seize on the veriest 
 trifles as indices to either good or evil. 
 
 He reached London late the night before the 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ship sailed, and the next morning stood on the 
 poop watching Gravesend fading away as the 
 vessel was towed steadily onward till the 
 South Foreland should be passed. 
 
 The white cliffs and the picturesque castle of 
 Dover were the last objects he saw, for a dense 
 mist crept seaward from the shore and hid 
 everything from view. The wintry dusk had 
 set in, and it was bitterly cold ; but Armitage 
 seemed indifferent to the gloom of the former or 
 to the chill of the north-easter. He stood leaning 
 against the taffrail, not with a shoreward but 
 with a seaward gaze. 
 
 He was already imagining that the Fair Hope 
 was eager to reach the far away Austral coast, 
 and fervently he prayed that the augury of the 
 name might not prove a mockery. 
 
 At last he felt chilled to the bone, took one 
 long look at the black seas sweeping round the 
 ship, and went to his cabin. 
 
 Even as the Fair Hope was rushing down 
 Channel before a strong favouring wind, begin- 
 ning well her long race of thousands of miles over 
 many seas, a telegram was delivered at Firnie
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 291 
 
 Knowe addressed to Hew Armitage. Accord- 
 ing to agreement, it was at once despatched to 
 the Cedars. 
 
 Dr. Steele opened it hurriedly, and grew 
 white with keen sorrow as he read its contents. 
 
 ' Too late,' he cried, ' too late ! He will be 
 far at sea by this time. My God ! what evil 
 chance has played such havoc with these two 
 lives I* 
 
 u 2
 
 292 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 WHITHER I 
 
 On the eventful day when Mona left home, it 
 will be remembered that she, the child, and a 
 honse-girl had gone forth in the phaeton, and 
 that at a certain point Mrs. Armitage had told 
 the servant to get out and return home. Having 
 given her command, and seen the girl wistfully 
 standing on the road, she shook the reins and 
 drove swiftly onward for a considerable dis- 
 tance. That she had some definite idea no one 
 who could have then seen her would have hesi- 
 tated to decide, though such an one would have 
 been puzzled to see her a few minutes later 
 draw the reins tight, stop the pony, and sud~
 
 WHITHER? 293 
 
 denly take the baby in her arms and kiss it 
 passionately, speaking to it the while with broken 
 sobs and with burning tears trickling down her 
 sad face. 
 
 1 My darling, my darling ! he shall not kill 
 you !' she sobbed ; * no, he shall never find us ; 
 and, if he does, he will have to kill us both, and 
 not you, my pearl, my little angel !' 
 
 This, then, was the secret of Mona's flight — a 
 horrible hallucination whereby it seemed to her 
 that her husband had determined to destroy 
 their child. By what strange mental freak 
 this idea had become fixed in her mind it is 
 impossible to say, but somehow or other the 
 suspicion took seed in her excited mind — per- 
 haps during her brain-fever, and in some 
 extraordinary way grew more and more definite, 
 till to her it became a terrible reality — a reality 
 at last so imminent and awful that it had become 
 intolerable. 
 
 No doubt this dreadful hallucination was 
 the result of the shock she had received 
 from the carriage accident, the concussion of 
 the brain from which she suffered, and the
 
 294 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 fever which had afterwards prostrated her ; but 
 below it all there must have been some strain 
 of mental disease — a strain possibly so slight 
 that it would never have manifested itself in 
 even any little eccentricity had it not been for 
 these untoward incidents. Before the fall from 
 the carriage had occurred, Dr. Steele's attention 
 had been arrested by some little things to 
 which his keen professional judgment at 
 once attached considerable significance — so 
 much so that, as may be remembered, he 
 went the length of inquiring as to the men- 
 tal health of Mona's parents and immediate 
 relations. 
 
 But if Dr. Steele could have seen the strange, 
 puzzled look that occasionally came into her 
 eyes as she sat in her phaeton during this 
 momentous drive he would have taken heart, 
 believing that strong as the hallucination was 
 at present it would ere long pass away, if not 
 leaving the mind clear, at least permitting the 
 latter to shape itself into a new and possibly 
 less tragic groove. 
 
 Suddenly Mona loosened the reins again, and
 
 WHITHER? 295 
 
 called out an encouraging ciy to the pony, 
 driving rapidly forward till she came to the 
 cross-roads, along one of the least used of which 
 she drove until the North Grasston Road was 
 reached. Here she alighted, and, taking with 
 her only her child and a small hand-bag into 
 which she had before leaving hastily thrust 
 some notes and gold, she crossed the road and 
 climbed up the bank that hemmed in this side 
 of the Forest of Ratho. Just before penetrating 
 the gloomy darkness made byvthe firs, larches, 
 and gaunt oaks and beeches., she stood a mo- 
 ment or two intently listening : either she heard, 
 or imagined she heard, distant sounds which, to 
 her excited mind, became the clamour of 
 pursuit. 
 
 Shudderingly she entered the wood and wan- 
 dered swiftly but aimlessly through it. Once 
 a fox rustled through the covert behind her, 
 and in a moment she fell on her knees and 
 cried out wildly for some one to save her child, 
 and, when no response came, sank forward in a 
 prayer of intensest thankfulness that she and 
 her little one had been screened from the
 
 296 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 avenging hand which she believed was so 
 closely following them. After long, aimless 
 wandering, and when just about to sink down 
 in a stupor of mingled exhaustion and despair, 
 she caught a glimpse of an open road a short 
 distance in front of her. She had just reached 
 the utmost limit of Ratho Wood when she saw 
 the hooded cart of a carrier coming along in her 
 direction, and at once made up her mind to take 
 advantage of this opportunity. She had had a 
 well-defined plan before leaving Firnie Knowe, 
 but all her arrangements had by this time 
 escaped her memory. 
 
 When the carrier drew near, he was startled 
 at the sudden apparition of a closely- veiled 
 woman issuing from the cheerless gloom of 
 the fir-woods, and still more so when this 
 lady (for that she was a lady he at once 
 knew from her accent and low-pitched voice) 
 begged that she might have a passage in his 
 cart. 
 
 ' How far do you go V she asked. 
 
 1 Weel, mem, I gang the length o' Perth ; 
 but I dinna gang there the nicht, ye ken. I'm
 
 WHITHER? 297 
 
 due at Drumlouthie at somewhaur atween five 
 and six, and I don't start again till aboot half- 
 past six next morning, getting into Perth some- 
 time afore noon, according to the extent of my 
 custom.' 
 
 ' Is there a railway station at Drum- 
 louthie V 
 
 ' Ay, there is that. But, if ye're in a hurry, 
 mem, I should advise ye to tak' the train frae 
 Mitchell Junction. I'll be passing within half-a- 
 mile o't, and I'm thinkin' I'll be in good time 
 for ye to get the south train that's due at Perth 
 shortly after four.' 
 
 After Mona had got into the carrier's cart, 
 the conversation did not flourish. The car- 
 rier made several attempts, but was met 
 either with silence or with quiet monosyllabic 
 replies. 
 
 She sat in a land of dream, sometimes keeping 
 the baby to her breast and singing a low tune 
 to hush its fretfulness ; again, she would sud- 
 denly snatch it away from her bosom and u;azc 
 at it long and earnestly, as if striving to solve 
 some riddle. Sitting, as she did, behind the
 
 298 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 carrier, he saw nothing of this, and, indeed, 
 gradually came to think of other things than his 
 silent fellow-traveller. At last Mona was 
 aroused by the stoppage of the clumsy vehicle, 
 and, turning to her, the carrier said that her 
 road branched off here, and that she could not 
 miss the way, as it led straight to Mitchell 
 Junction. 
 
 She had alighted, and was feeling for her 
 purse, when the kind-hearted old fellow leaned 
 forward and said in a whisper, as if there 
 might be tell-tale ears in the very hedge- 
 row, 
 
 ' Look here, mem, you seem in trouble, if 
 you'll excuse my noticing it. If so be as ye're 
 hard put to it for money, why, we'll say nae- 
 thing aboot this ride, but I'll just wish ye guid- 
 nicht and God-speed.' 
 
 4 Thank you, my friend, and God reward you 
 for your kindly thought. k Though I am in 
 sore trouble, I am in no lack of money. But 
 will you do me a service V 
 
 ' What I can dae, I'll dae, mem.' 
 
 ' Well, here is a pound-note, to which you
 
 WHITHER? 299 
 
 are welcome, if you will say nothing about 
 having seen me. I tell you frankly that I have 
 left my home, but it is not for evil I have done 
 so.' 
 
 'I believe that is the truth, mem.' 
 
 1 A search will soon be made for me, and I tell 
 you that if you betray me the blood of myself 
 and my child will be on your head. My hus- 
 band is determined that my baby must not live, 
 and if he kills her he will be the cause of my 
 death also.' 
 
 The man seemed impressed by her earnest- 
 ness, but in any case he took the money and 
 gave his promise, which he loyally enough kept 
 till long afterwards. 
 
 Mona reached the station in time to catch 
 the train from Aberdeen to Glasgow. In the 
 compartment she fell into a profound sleep and 
 did not awaken till her journey was nearly at 
 an end. 
 
 It was dark when she left the terminus at 
 Glasgow, but the outer darkness was as nothing 
 compared with that which clouded her mind. 
 For now all was confusion, wild images succeed-
 
 300 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 ing tumultuous hopes aud numbing fears, a 
 dreadful desire to fly away into some remote 
 place where no human being could ever espy 
 her alternating with an equally dread eagerness 
 to participate in the noise and tumult of the 
 great city. She ■ knew not whence she had 
 come nor whither she was going. A strange, 
 indefinite fear urged her to move on, to mix 
 with the crowds, to seek safety in these 
 thronging thousands that made Argyle Street 
 seem like the main approach to some great hive, 
 whereto and wherefrom countless swarms con- 
 tinually passed. 
 
 She had left the station quickly, and was at 
 once submerged in the dense and fast-flowing 
 human stream, and even as a broken flower is 
 swept along by some current, so was she 
 carried eastward in the direction of the Tron- 
 gate as if she had no volition of her own. 
 What noise there was, what glare of lights, 
 what brutal faces and brutal words and brutal 
 laughter, what evil and hollow mockery of 
 gaiety, what drunkenness, what loathsome and 
 omnipresent vice. In the midst of this human
 
 WHITHER ? 301 
 
 maelstrom, Mona felt as if she were in some 
 dreadful nightmare. 
 
 Past the crowded Trongate her feet had aim- 
 lessly borne her, with her one wild desire to 
 escape, to hide, to be at rest. 
 
 Now close beside her ran the river, though 
 as yet she knew it not : dark and foul and 
 mysterious, brilliant here and there with gas 
 illuminations and red ship-lights, it was like a 
 materialised shadow of the human stream that 
 seethed and bubbled and surged upward and 
 downward till the eye saw no further, eastward 
 or westward. 
 
 At the corner of Argyle Street and Jamaica 
 Street she eddied to and fro some moments, 
 even as the human currents caught her and 
 bore her this way or that. Was it fate or 
 accident that determined her tendency ! For, 
 all unconsciously, she turned in the direction of 
 the Broomielaw Bridge, and iu a short time was 
 among the thronging crowd that continually 
 pass to and fro thereon. Once there, once she 
 had seen the dark water flowing beneath, the 
 attraction of the great river exercised a spell
 
 302 THE SPORT OF CHANCE. 
 
 over her more potent than any weak volition of 
 her own, or even than the indeterminate force 
 of the crowds abont her. Along one side of it, 
 then back by the other, so went Mona. She 
 seemed to feel no fatigue, though at times she 
 lingered by some jutting lamp, nor did she 
 seem to have any fixed idea. Perhaps in 
 her obscured mind the river suggested some 
 protective influence. Possibly she had some 
 vague idea that in it was to be found rest, 
 freedom from pursuit, assured safety ; but 
 more possibly it was to her simply what the 
 flame is to the moth, a focus of irresistible 
 attraction. 
 
 Two or three times a policeman told her that 
 she must not linger, but he was a kindly man, 
 and neither molested her in any way nor spoke 
 to her again when he found that she uncom- 
 plainingly walked on. Later on, the man who 
 replaced him said to her harshly that she must 
 not beg on the bridge, at which she only stared 
 at him, with a dumb, wondering expression. 
 Some one heard the admonition, and, pitying 
 the hopeless misery of the woman, gave her a
 
 WHITHER ? 303 
 
 small silver coin, which she took without 
 thanks, and with the same dull, dazed look. 
 The night wore on, and Mona still kept on or 
 near the bridge. Gradually, to her ears, the 
 river's murmur became coherent, and seemed 
 to be a constant whispering of rest — rest — 
 rest. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE.

 
 m 
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOI9-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 042032364