A man, well dressed and well mounted had ridden into the yard.

As Mrs.Ferris came from the cabin he flung himself out of the saddle and, hat in hand, approached her.
"I am hunting a place called the Barony; can you tell me if I am on the right road ?" he asked.

He was a man in the early thirties, graceful and powerful of build, with a handsome face.
"It is my husband you wish to see?
I am Mrs.Ferris." "Then General Quintard is dead ?" His tone was one of surprise.
"His death occurred over a year ago, and my husband now owns the Barony; were you a friend of the general's ?" "No, Madam; he was my father's friend, but I had hoped to meet him." His manner was adroit and plausible.
Mrs.Ferris hesitated.

The stranger's dress and bearing was that of a gentleman, and he could boast of his father's friendship with General Quintard.

Any doubts she may have had she put aside.
"Will you ride on with us to the Barony and meet my husband, Mr.-- ?" she paused.
"Murrell--Captain Murrell.