known it for some time, and for the best of reasons; because I've heard her say so to Sir Ian. Oh, I don't eavesdrop. I'm not a Frenchwoman, and I have no sly tricks! But I happened to come in and catch a bit of what they were saying, in the midst of a tremendous talk. They shut up in an instant, and her ladyship never dreamed I'd heard. I never spoke of it to any one before, but I felt I'd got the clue to all that's been going on underneath the surface, up at the Moat, for weeks past."
"You mean"
"I mean I'm sure her ladyship tried to persuade Sir Ian to discharge Mr. Ian Barr. She could never bear the sight of him, anyhow, and if she'd had her way, Sir Ian wouldn't have taken him on as steward."
"But that was what every one thought so noble of Sir Ian! The young fellow was his uncle's son, and if the old gentleman hadn't quarrelled with him, would probably have left him a lot of money."
"What was the story exactly? I know it only in a mixed-up way."
"Why, old Sir Ian, the uncle of the present one, was wild, and, many say, wicked as a young man. Any how, he was an avowed atheist—a dreadful thing. He lived abroad in his youth, and Friars' Moat was shut up. In Italy or somewhere he married an opera singer, they say, who was as bad as himself. So they separated; then he came back to his own country, and she
