However, we consented that he should row us on the Firth, and made an appointment one day with himself and his wife for four the next evening.

That night Charles came to me with a very grave face in my own bedroom.  “Sey,” he said, under his breath, “have you observed?  Have you watched?  Have you any suspicions?”

I trembled violently.  I felt all was up.  “Suspicions of whom?” I asked.  “Not surely of Simpson?” (he was Sir Charles’s valet).

My respected brother-in-law looked at me contemptuously.

“Sey,” he said, “are you trying to take me in?  No, not of Simpson:  of these two young folks.  My own belief is—­they’re Colonel Clay and Madame Picardet.”

“Impossible!” I cried.

He nodded.  “I’m sure of it.”

“How do you know?”

“Instinctively.”

I seized his arm.  “Charles,” I said, imploring him, “do nothing rash.  Remember how you exposed yourself to the ridicule of fools over Dr. Polperro!”

“I’ve thought of that,” he answered, “and I mean to ca’ caller.”  (When in Scotland as laird of Seldon, Charles loves both to dress and to speak the part thoroughly.) “First thing to-morrow I shall telegraph over to inquire at Glen-Ellachie; I shall find out whether this is really young Granton or not; meanwhile, I shall keep my eye close upon the fellow.”

Early next morning, accordingly, a groom was dispatched with a telegram to Lord Craig-Ellachie.  He was to ride over to Fowlis, send it off at once, and wait for the answer.  At the same time, as it was probable Lord Craig-Ellachie would have started for the moors before the telegram reached the Lodge, I did not myself expect to see the reply arrive much before seven or eight that evening.  Meanwhile, as it was far from certain we had not the real David Granton to deal with, it was necessary to be polite to our friendly rivals.  Our experience in the Polperro incident had shown us both that too much zeal may be more dangerous than too little.  Nevertheless, taught by previous misfortunes, we kept watching our man pretty close, determined that on this occasion, at least, he should neither do us nor yet escape us.

About four o’clock the red-haired young man and his pretty little wife came up to call for us.  She looked so charming and squinted so enchantingly, one could hardly believe she was not as simple and innocent as she seemed to be.  She tripped down to the Seldon boat-house, with Charles by her side, giggling and squinting her best, and then helped her husband to get the skiff ready.  As she did so, Charles sidled up to me.  “Sey,” he whispered, “I’m an old hand, and I’m not readily taken in.  I’ve been talking to that girl, and upon my soul I think she’s all right.  She’s a charming little lady.  We may be mistaken after all, of course, about young Granton.  In any case, it’s well for the present to be courteous.  A most important option!  If it’s really he, we must do nothing to annoy him or let him see we suspect him.”