“You are right as to general principles,” Sir Charles replied, quite affectionately.  “Most sound and sensible.  But how do I know you haven’t bargained already in the same way with your father?  You may have settled with him, and be trying to diddle me.”

The young man assumed a most candid air.  “Look here,” he said, leaning forward.  “I offer you this chance.  Take it or leave it. Do you wish to purchase my aid for this amalgamation by a moderate commission on the net value of my father’s option to yourself—­which I know approximately?”

“Say five per cent,” I suggested, in a tentative voice, just to justify my presence.

He looked me through and through. “Ten is more usual,” he answered, in a peculiar tone and with a peculiar glance.

Great heavens, how I winced!  I knew what his words meant.  They were the very words I had said myself to Colonel Clay, as the Count von Lebenstein, about the purchase-money of the schloss—­and in the very same accent.  I saw through it all now.  That beastly cheque!  This was Colonel Clay; and he was trying to buy up my silence and assistance by the threat of exposure!

My blood ran cold.  I didn’t know how to answer him.  What happened at the rest of that interview I really couldn’t tell you.  My brain reeled round.  I heard just faint echoes of “fuel” and “reduction works.”  What on earth was I to do?  If I told Charles my suspicion—­for it was only a suspicion—­the fellow might turn upon me and disclose the cheque, which would suffice to ruin me.  If I didn’t, I ran a risk of being considered by Charles an accomplice and a confederate.

The interview was long.  I hardly know how I struggled through it.  At the end young Granton went off, well satisfied, if it was young Granton; and Amelia invited him and his wife up to dinner at the castle.

Whatever else they were, they were capital company.  They stopped for three days more at the Cromarty Arms.  And Charles debated and discussed incessantly.  He couldn’t quite make up his mind what to do in the affair; and I certainly couldn’t help him.  I never was placed in such a fix in my life.  I did my best to preserve a strict neutrality.

Young Granton, it turned out, was a most agreeable person; and so, in her way, was that timid, unpretending South African wife of his.  She was naively surprised Amelia had never met her mamma at Durban.  They both talked delightfully, and had lots of good stories—­mostly with points that told against the Craig-Ellachie people.  Moreover, the Honourable David was a splendid swimmer.  He went out in a boat with us, and dived like a seal.  He was burning to teach Charles and myself to swim, when we told him we could neither of us take a single stroke; he said it was an accomplishment incumbent upon every true Englishman.  But Charles hates the water; while, as for myself, I detest every known form of muscular exercise.