The House of Whispers

eternity. Love and death walk hand-in-hand. Th

ather than allow her secret to be exposed. Those who knew her-a young, athletic, merry-faced, open-air girl on the verge of b

; she feared being compelled by his stronger nature, and by the true affection in which she held him, to confess. They walked together in the cool, shady glen beside the rippling burn, clim

y registered post. They were so strangely worded that, not knowing their true import, she failed to understand them. All were neatly typed, without any heading to the paper. Som

e always shot the small brass bolt on the door to prevent Hill or any other intruder from entering. More than once the Baronet's wife had wanted to come in while the reading was

er father was carrying on some business which was not altogether honourable. Why should he enjoin such secrecy? Why should he cause her

hich the writer intended to convey. For hours she would often be engaged in reading them. Sometimes, too, telegrams in cipher arrived,

replied by means of his private code. She had become during the past year quite an expert typist, and therefore to h

in you, Gabrielle dear, to guard my secrets from prying eyes. I kno

rious one. The estates were, of course, large, and he employed agents to manage them; but they could not produce that huge income which she knew he possessed, for had she not more than once seen the amount

well as to Gabrielle, the Frenchman was most courteous, but refused the pressing invitations to remain the night. He always arrived by the morning train from Perth, and left for the south the same night, the express being stopped for him by signal at Auc

, he had invited her to spend an hour or two fishing for trout in the burn, which

le compliments. He tied her flies, he fitted her rod, and if her line became entangled in the trees he always put matters right. Not, however, that she could not do it all herself. In her strong, high fishing-boots, her short skirts hemmed with leather, her burberry, and her dark-blue tam-o'-

extremely polite, he had treated her as a child, which she naturally resented. At length, howev

ever referred to his curious action. Sometimes she wondered, so changed was his manner, whether he had actually forgotten the incident altogether. He had showed himself in his true colours th

re and there through the canopy of leaves, beneath which the burn pursued its sinuous course towards the Earn. The music of the rippling waters over the brown, moss-grown boulders mingled with the rustle of the leaves above, as now and then

of school. One is free up here. I can wear my old clothes, and go cycling, fishing, shooting, curling; in fact, I'm my own mistress. Tha

al for one so active and-well"-he hesitated-"I wonder whether I mi

, protesting, but blus

e, Mr. Flockart. All I

nd, secondly, I'm not i

dn't my father's af

aid with pretended indifference, but, to his an

r most evenings,

evident that he was endeavouring to learn from her the nature of her father's correspondence. But s

st up-stream and allowed the flies to be carried down to within a few yards from where he stood. "T

looking at him quickl

his allegation ag

e of such tales is always difficult to discover. Some enem

source of dad's income no

don't know," he declared. "I only repeat w

ey say," demanded the gi

ver has been said, I've always denied; for, as you know

ars ago, overheard her ladyship express a dastardly desire in the words, "Oh, Henry is such a dreadful old bore, and so utterly useless, that it's a shame a woman like myself should be tied up to him. Fortunately for me, he alrea

was her father's enemy, and that he had united with the clever, sche

stand that I have no intention to discuss my father or his affairs. The latter concern himself alone.

mystery; and mysteries are always inte

ests possess an unusual interest for him, Mr. Flockart. Though my father may be b

ed him with vague apprehension. Was it possible that the blind man had any suspicion of wha