Oliver was the local magnate, and his wealth would have made him an easy topic of conversation even without his eccentricity.  The landlady roundly called him insane, and as an instance of his queerness told Arthur, to his great dismay, that Haddo would have no servants to sleep in the house:  after dinner everyone was sent away to the various cottages in the park, and he remained alone with his wife.  It was an awful thought that Margaret might be in the hands of a raving madman, with not a soul to protect her.  But if he learnt no more than this of solid fact, Arthur heard much that was significant.  To his amazement the old fear of the wizard had grown up again in that lonely place, and the garrulous woman gravely told him of Haddo’s evil influence on the crops and cattle of farmers who had aroused his anger.  He had had an altercation with his bailiff, and the man had died within a year.  A small freeholder in the neighbourhood had refused to sell the land which would have rounded off the estate of Skene, and a disease had attacked every animal on his farm so that he was ruined.  Arthur was impressed because, though she reported these rumours with mock scepticism as the stories of ignorant yokels and old women, the innkeeper had evidently a terrified belief in their truth.  No one could deny that Haddo had got possession of the land he wanted; for, when it was put up to auction, no one would bid against him, and he bought it for a song.

As soon as he could do so naturally, Arthur asked after Margaret.  The woman shrugged her shoulders.  No one knew anything about her.  She never came out of the park gates, but sometimes you could see her wandering about inside by herself.  She saw no one.  Haddo had long since quarrelled with the surrounding gentry; and though one old lady, the mother of a neighbouring landowner, had called when Margaret first came, she had not been admitted, and the visit was never returned.

‘She’ll come to no good, poor lady,’ said the hostess of the inn.  ’And they do say she’s a perfect picture to look at.’

Arthur went to his room.  He longed for the day to come.  There was no certain means of seeing Margaret.  It was useless to go to the park gates, since even the tradesmen were obliged to leave their goods at the lodge; but it appeared that she walked alone, morning and afternoon, and it might be possible to see her then.  He decided to climb into the park and wait till he came upon her in some spot where they were not likely to be observed.

Next day the great heat of the last week was gone, and the melancholy sky was dark with lowering clouds.  Arthur inquired for the road which led to Skene, and set out to walk the three miles which separated him from it.  The country was grey and barren.  There was a broad waste of heath, with gigantic boulders strewn as though in pre-historic times Titans had waged there a mighty battle.  Here and there were trees, but they seemed hardly to withstand the fierce winds