there was no answer. He pushed the door, and saw that the light came
from behind a projecting book-case. He hesitated a moment, and glanced
about him.

A little clinking sound came from somewhere. He stole nearer the source
of the light; a thief might be there. He peeped round the end of the
book-case. With his back to him the laird was kneeling before an open
chest. He had just counted a few pieces of gold, and was putting them
away. He turned over his shoulder a face deathly pale, and his eyes for
a moment stared blank. Then with a shivering smile he rose. He had a
thin-worn dressing-gown over his night-shirt, and looked a thread of a
man.

"You take me for a miser?" he said, trembling, and stood expecting an
answer.

Crawford was bewildered: what business had he there?

"I am _not_ a miser!" resumed the laird. "A man may count his money
without being a miser!"

He stood and stared, still trembling, at his guest, either too much
startled or too gentle to find fault with his intrusion.

"I beg your pardon, laird," said George. "I knocked, but receiving no
answer, feared something was wrong."

"But why are you out of bed--and you an invalid?" returned Mr. Fordyce.

"I heard a heavy fall, and feared the lightning had done some damage."