"Would you like to go early in the morning? The mist is more likely to
be there then, as it was that day. It is so mysterious and beautiful.
Would you like to do that?" I asked him.

"Better than anything else!" he said. "Yes, let us go in the morning."

"Wee Brown Elspeth seems very near me this evening," I said. "I feel as
if--" I broke off and began again. "I have a puzzled feeling about her.
This afternoon I found some manuscript pushed behind a book on a high
shelf in the library. Angus said he had hidden it there because it was a
savage story he did not wish me to read. It was the history of the feud
between Ian Red Hand and Dark Malcolm of the Glen. Dark Malcolm's child
was called Wee Brown Elspeth hundreds of years ago--five hundred, I
think. It makes me feel so bewildered when I remember the one I played
with."

"It was a bloody story," he said. "I heard it only a few days before we
met at Sir Ian's house in London."

That made me recall something.

"Was that why you started when I told you about Elspeth?" I asked.

"Yes. Perhaps the one you played with was a little descendant who had
inherited her name," he answered, a trifle hurriedly. "I confess I was
startled for a moment."

I put my hand up to my forehead and rubbed it unconsciously. I could not
help seeing a woesome picture.