“I’m afraid this makes me an accessory, but I can only neglect my manifest duty, which would be to warn her mother,” said Maud Barrington.

“Is it a duty?” asked Winston, feeling that the further he drifted away from the previous topic the better it would be for him.

“Some people would fancy so,” said his companion, “Lily will have a good deal of money, by and by, and she is very young.  Atterly has nothing but an unprofitable farm; but he is an honest lad, and I know she is very fond of him.”

“And would that count against the dollars?”

Maud Barrington laughed a little.  “Yes,” she said quietly.  “I think it would if the girl is wise.  Even now such things do happen, but I fancy it is time I went back again.”

She moved away, but Winston stayed where he was until the lad came in with a cigar in his hand.

“Hallo, Courthorne!” he said.  “Did you notice anybody pass the window a little while ago?”

“You are the first to come in through it,” said Winston dryly.  “The kind of things you wear admit of climbing.”

The lad glanced at him with a trace of embarrassment.

“I don’t quite understand you, but I meant a man,” he said.  “He was walking curiously, as if he was half-asleep, but he slipped round the corner of the building and I lost him.”

Winston laughed.  “There’s a want of finish in the tale, but you needn’t worry about me.  I didn’t see a man.”

“There is rather less wisdom than usual in your remarks to-night, but I tell you I saw him,” said the lad.

He passed on, and a minute later there was a cry from the inner room.  “It’s there again!  Can’t you see the face at the window?”

Winston was in the larger room next moment, and saw, as a startled girl had evidently done, a face that showed distorted and white to ghastliness through the window.  He also recognized it, and running back through the hall was outside in another few seconds.  Courthorne was leaning against one of the casements as though faint with weakness or pain, and collapsed when Winston dragged him backwards into the shadow.  He had scarcely laid him down when the window was opened, and Colonel Barrington’s shoulders showed black against the light.

“Come outside alone, sir,” said Winston.

Barrington did so, and Winston stood so that no light fell on the pallid face in the grass.  “It’s a man I have dealings with,” he said.  “He has evidently ridden out from the settlement and fallen from his horse.”

“Why should he fall?” asked the Colonel.

Winston laughed.  “There is a perfume about him that is tolerably conclusive.  I was, however, on the point of going, and if you will tell your hired man to get my wagon out, I’ll take him away quietly.  You can make light of the affair to the others.”

“Yes,” said Barrington.  “Unless you think the man is hurt, that would be best, but we’ll keep him if you like.”