Two days later a gig from Crossmichael deposited Frank Innes at the doors of Hermiston.

Once in a way, during the past winter, Archie, in some acute phase of boredom, had written him a letter.

It had contained something in the nature of an invitation or a reference to an invitation--precisely what, neither of them now remembered.

When Innes had received it, there had been nothing further from his mind than to bury himself in the moors with Archie; but not even the most acute political heads are guided through the steps of life with unerring directness.

That would require a gift of prophecy which has been denied to man.