There is a terraced garden in front, and a stream comes frothing out of a wooded ghyll at the foot of it." Weston started, for there was no doubt that the house Kinnaird described was the one in which he had been born.

As it happened, the firelight fell upon his intent face as he waited for the answer, when Miss Stirling, who had missed his start, asked a question: "The people who owned it were friends of yours ?" "No," said Kinnaird, "I never saw them.

I took the place through an agency for the rough shooting and as a change from London.

They had to let it and live in a neighboring town.

The result of slack management and agricultural depression, I believe." Weston set his lips.