They turned in through Simon's gates and then the four stopped.
"We part here," whispered Carrington. "Good luck!"
"Same to you," said Ned briefly, and strode up the drive.
As he came out into the gravel sweep before the house, he looked hard into the darkness of the garden, but beyond the tossing shapes of trees, there was not a sign of movement.
"Mr. Rattar in?" he enquired. "Sitting in the library I suppose? Take me right to him. Cromarty's my name."
"Mr. Cromarty to see you, sir," announced Mary, and she was startled to see the master's sudden turn in his chair and the look upon his face.
"Whether he was feared or whether he was angered, I canna rightly say," she told cook, "but anyway he looked fair mad like!"
"Good evening," said Ned.
His voice was restrained and dry, and as he spoke he strode across the room and seated himself deliberately in the arm chair on the side of the fire opposite to the lawyer.
Simon had banished that first look which Mary saw, but there remained in his eyes something more than their usual cold stare. Each day since Carrington came seemed to have aged his face and changed it for the worse: a haggard, ugly, malicious face it seemed to his visitor looking
