“But, my dear fellow, you’ve become quite an institution with us!” exclaimed Sir Henry in dismay.  “We should all be lost without you.  Why, as you know, you’ve done me so many kindnesses that I can never sufficiently repay you.  I don’t forget how, through your advice, I’ve been able to effect quite a number of economies at Caistor, and how often you assist my wife in various ways in her social duties.”

“My dear Sir Henry,” he laughed, “you know I’m always ready to serve either of you whenever it lies in my power.  Only—­well, I feel that I’m in your wife’s company far too much, both here and in Lincolnshire.  People are talking.  Therefore, I have decided to leave her, and my decision is irrevocable.”

“Let them talk.  If I do not object, you surely need not.”

“But for your wife’s sake?”

“I know—­I know how cruel are people’s tongues, Flockart,” remarked the old man.

“Yes; and the gossip was unfortunately started by Gabrielle.  It was surely very unwise of her.”

“Ah!” sighed the other, “it is the old story.  Every girl becomes jealous of her step-mother.  And she’s only a child, after all,” he added apologetically.

“Well, much as I esteem her, and much as I admire her, I feel, Sir Henry, that she had no right to bring discord into your house.  I hope you will permit me to say this, with all due deference to the fact that she’s your daughter.  But I consider her conduct in this matter has been very unfriendly.”

Again the Baronet was silent, and his companion saw that he was reflecting deeply.  “How do you know that the scandal was started by her?” he asked presently, in a low, rather strained voice.

“Young Paterson told me so.  It appears that when she was staying with them over at Tullyallan she told his mother all sorts of absurd stories.  And Mrs. Paterson who, as you know, is a terrible gossip—­told the Reads of Logie and the Redcastles, and in a few days these fictions, with all sorts of embroidery, were spread half over Scotland.  Why, my friend Lindsay, the member for Berwick, heard some whispers the other day in the Carlton Club!  So, in consequence of that, Sir Henry, I’m resolved, much against my will and inclination, I assure you, to end my friendship with your wife.”

“All this pains me more than I can tell you,” declared the old man.  “The more so, too, that Gabrielle should have allowed her jealousy to lead her to make such false charges.”

“Yes.  In order not to pain you.  I have hesitated to tell you this for several weeks.  But I really thought that you ought at least to know the truth, and who originated the scandal.  And so I have ventured to-day to speak openly, and to announce my departure,” said the wily Flockart.  He was putting to the test the strength of his position in that household.  He had an ulterior motive, one that was ingenious and subtle.

“But you are not really going?” exclaimed the other.  “You told me the other day something about my factor Macdonald, and your suspicions of certain irregularities.”