Dorise was in no mood to lunch with her mother's visitor, but, nevertheless, was compelled to be polite.

After washing their hands in the stream, they sat down together upon a great, grey boulder that had been worn smooth by the action of the water, and, taking out their sandwiches, began to eat them.

"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Sherrard suddenly, after they had been gossiping for some time. "Have you heard from your friend Henfrey lately?"

"Not lately," replied the girl, a trifle resentful that he should obtrude upon her private affairs.

"I only ask because--well, because there are some jolly queer stories going about town of him."

"Queer stories!" she echoed quickly. "What are they? What do people say?"

"Oh! They say lots of extraordinary things. I think your mother has done very well to drop him."

"Has mother dropped him?" asked the girl in pretence of ignorance.

"She told me so last night, and I was extremely glad to hear it--though he is your friend. It seems that he's hardly the kind of fellow you should know, Dorise."

"Why do you say that?" his companion asked, her eyes flashing instantly.

"What! Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"The story that's going round the clubs. He's missing, and has been so for quite a long time. You haven't seen him--have you?"

The girl was compelled to reply in the negative.

"But what do they say against him?" she demanded breathlessly.

"There's a lot of funny stories," was Sherrard's reply. "They say he's hiding from the police because he attempted to murder a notorious woman called Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. Do you know about it?"

"It's a wicked lie!" blurted forth the girl. "Hugh never attempted to kill the woman!"

Sherrard looked straight into her blue eyes, and asked:

"Then why was he in her room at midnight? They say the reason Henfrey is hard-up is because he spent all he possessed upon the woman, and on going there that night she laughed him to scorn and told him she had grown fond of a rich Austrian banker. After mutual recriminations, Henfrey, knowing the woman had ruined him, drew out a revolver and shot her."

"I tell you it's an abominable lie! Hugh is not an a.s.sa.s.sin!" cried the girl fiercely.

"I merely repeat what I have heard on very good authority," replied the smug-faced man with the thick red lips.

"And you have of course told my mother that--eh?"

"I didn't think it was any secret," he said. "Indeed, I think it most fortunate we all know the truth. The police must get him one day--before long."

For a few moments Dorise remained silent, her eyes fixed across the broad river to the opposite bank.

"And if they do, he will most certainly clear himself, Mr. Sherrard,"

she said coldly.

"Ah! You still have great faith in him," he laughed airily. "Well--we shall see," and he grinned.

"Yes, Mr. Sherrard. I still have faith in Mr. Henfrey. I know him well enough to be certain that he is no a.s.sa.s.sin."

"Then I ask you, Dorise, why is he hiding?" said her companion. "If he is innocent, what can he fear?"

"I know he is innocent."

"Of course. You must remain in that belief until he is found guilty."

"You already condemn him!" the girl cried in anger. "By what right do you do this, I ask?"

"Well, common sense shows that he is in fear lest the truth should come to light," was Sherrard's lame reply. "He escaped very cleverly from Monte Carlo the moment he heard that the police suspected him, but where is he now? n.o.body knows. Haynes, of Scotland Yard, who made the inquiries when my flat in Park Lane was broken into, tells me they have had a description of him from the Paris police, and that a general hue-and-cry has been circulated."

"But the woman is still alive, is she not?"

"Yes. She's a hopeless idiot, Haynes tells me. She had developed homicidal mania as a result of the bullet wound in the head, and they have had to send her to a private asylum at Cannes. She's there in close confinement."

Dorise paused. Her anger had risen, and her cheeks were flushed. The sandwich she was eating choked her, so she cast it into the river.

Then she rose abruptly, and looking very straight into the man's eyes, said:

"I consider, Mr. Sherrard, that you are absolutely horrid. Mr. Henfrey is a friend of mine, and whatever gossip there is concerning him I will not believe until I hear his story from his own lips."

"I merely tell you of the report from France to Scotland Yard," said Sherrard.

"You tell me this in order to prejudice me against Hugh--to--to----"

"Hugh! Whom you love--eh?" sneered Sherrard.

"Yes. I _do_ love him," the girl blurted forth. "I make no secret of it.

And if you like you can tell my mother that! You are very fond of acting as her factotum!"

"It is to be regretted, Dorise, that you have fallen in love with a fellow who is wanted by the police," he remarked with a sigh.

"At any rate, I love a genuine man," she retorted with bitter sarcasm.

"I know my mother's intention is that I shall marry you. But I tell you here frankly--as I stand here--I would rather kill myself first!"

George Sherrard with his dark bushy brows and thick lips only laughed at her indignation. This incensed her the more.

"Yes," she went on. "You may be amused at my distress. You have laughed at the distress of other women, Mr. Sherrard. Do not think that I am blind. I have watched you, and I know more concerning your love affairs of the past than you ever dream. So please leave Blairglas as soon as you can with decency excuse yourself, and keep away from me in future."

"But really, Dorise----!" he cried, advancing towards her.

"I mean exactly what I say. Let me get back. When I go fishing I prefer to go alone," the girl said.

"But what am I to say to Lady Rans...o...b.."