gateway, the horse browsing upon the thin border of grass which skirted
the road.

"It's a' richt!" said Jamieson, taking a close look at the deserted
vehicle. "I ken it weel. It belongs tae Maister McNeil, the factor
body frae Wigtown--him wha keeps the keys."

"Then we may as well have speech with him now that we are here," I
answered. "They are coming down, if I am not mistaken."

As I spoke we heard the slam of the heavy door and within a few minutes
two figures, the one tall and angular, the other short and thick came
towards us through the darkness. They were talking so earnestly that
they did not observe us until they had passed through the avenue gate.

"Good evening, Mr. McNeil," said I, stepping forward and addressing the
Wigtown factor, with whom I had some slight acquaintance.

The smaller of the two turned his face towards me as I spoke, and showed
me that I was not mistaken in his identity, but his taller companion
sprang back and showed every sign of violent agitation.

"What is this, McNeil?" I heard him say, in a gasping, choking voice.
"Is this your promise? What is the meaning of it?"

"Don't be alarmed, General! Don't be alarmed!" said the little fat
factor in a soothing fashion, as one might speak to a frightened child.
"This is young Mr. Fothergill West, of Branksome, though what brings him
up here tonight is more than I can understand. However, as you are to
be neighbours, I can't do better than take the opportunity to introduce