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repeat her veesit later," replied

      Mrs. M'Gregor, and, after a moment's hesitation; "she awaited ye're

      return with exemplary patience."

      "Really, I am sorry I was detained," declared Stuart, replacing his

      boot. "How long has she been gone, then?"

      "Just the now. No more than two or three minutes. I trust she is no

      worse."

      "Worse!"

      "The lass seemed o'er anxious to see you."

      "Well, you know, Mrs. M'Gregor, she comes a considerable distance."

      "So I am given to understand, Mr. Keppel," replied the old lady;

      "and in a grand luxurious car."

      Stuart assumed an expression of perplexity to hide his embarrassment.

      "Mrs. M'Gregor," he said rather ruefully, "you watch over me as

      tenderly as my own mother would have done. I have observed a certain

      restraint in your manner whenever you have had occasion to refer to

      Mlle. Dorian. In what way does she differ from my other lady

      patients?" And even as he spoke the words he knew in his heart that

      she differed from every other woman in the world.

      Mrs. M'Gregor sniffed. "Do your other lady patients wear furs that

      your airnings for six months could never pay for, Mr. Keppel?" she

      inquired.

      "No, unfortunately they pin their faith, for the most part, to gaily

      coloured shawls. All the more reason why I should bless the accident

      which led Mlle. Dorian to my door."

      Mrs. M'Gregor, betraying, in her interest, real suspicion, murmured

      _sotto voce_: "Then she _is_ a patient?"

      "What's that?" asked Stuart, regarding her surprisedly. "A patient?

      Certainly. She suffers from insomnia."

      "I'm no' surprised to hear it."

      "What do you mean, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

      "Now, Mr. Keppel, laddie, ye're angry with me, and like enough I am

      a meddlesome auld woman. But I know what a man will do for shining

      een and a winsome face--nane better to my sorrow--and twa times have

      I heard the Warning."

      Stuart stood up in real perplexity. "Pardon my density, Mrs.

      M'Gregor, but--er--the Warning? To what 'warning' do you refer?"

      Seating herself in the chair before the writing-table, Mrs. M'Gregor

      shook her head pensively. "What would it be," she said softly, "but

      the Pibroch o' the M'Gregors?"

      Stuart came across and leaned upon a corner of the table. "The

      Pibroch of the M'Gregors?" he repeated.

      "Nane other. 'Tis said to be Rob Roy's ain piper that gives warning

      when danger threatens ane o' the M'Gregors or any they love."

      Stuart restrained a smile, and, "A well-meaning but melancholy

      retainer!" he commented.

      "As well as I hear you now, laddie, I heard the pibroch on the day a

      certain woman first crossed my threshold, nigh thirty years ago, in

      Inverary. And as plainly as I heard it wailing then, I heard it the

      first evening that Miss Dorian came to this house!"

      Torn between good-humoured amusement and real interest, "If I remember

      rightly," said Stuart, "Mlle. Dorian first called here just a week ago,

      and immediately before I returned from an Infirmary case?"

      "Your memory is guid, Mr. Keppel."

      "And when, exactly, did you hear this Warning?"

      "Twa minutes before you entered the house; and I heard it again the

      now."

      "What! you heard it to-night?"

      "I heard it again just the now and I lookit out the window."

      "Did you obtain a glimpse of Rob Roy's piper?"

      "Ye're laughing at an old wife, laddie. No, but I saw Miss Dorian away

      in her car and twa minutes later I saw yourself coming round the

      corner."

      "If she had only waited another two minutes," murmured Stuart. "No

      matter; she may return. And are these the only occasions upon which

      you have heard this mysterious sound, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

      "No, Master Keppel, they are not. I assure ye something threatens. It

      wakened me up in the wee sma' hours last night--the piping--an' I lay

      awake shaking for long eno'."

      "How extraordinary. Are you sure your imagination is not playing you

      tricks?"

      "Ah, you're no' takin' me seriously, laddie."

      "Mrs. M'Gregor"--he leaned across the table and rested his hands upon

      her shoulders--"you are a second mother to me, your care makes me feel

      like a boy again; and in these grey days it's good to feel like a boy

      again. You think I am laughing at you, but I'm not. The strange

      tradition of your family is associated with a tragedy in your life;

      therefore I respect it. But have no fear with regard to Mlle. Dorian.

      In the first place she is a patient; in the second--I am merely a

      penniless suburban practitioner. Good-night, Mrs. M'Gregor. Don't

      think of waiting up. Tell Mary to show Mademoiselle in here directly

      she arrives--that is if she really returns."

      Mrs. M'Gregor stood up and walked slowly to the door. "I'll show

      Mademoiselle in mysel', Mr. Keppel," she said,--"and show her out."

      She closed the door very quietly.

      THE SCORPION'S TAIL

      Seating himself at the writing-table, Stuart began mechanically to

      arrange his papers. Then from the tobacco jar he loaded his pipe,

      but his manner remained abstracted. Yet he was not thinking of the

      phantom piper but of Mlle. Dorian.

      Until he had met this bewilderingly pretty woman he had thought that

      his heart was for evermore proof against the glances of bright eyes.

      Mademoiselle had disillusioned him. She was the most fragrantly lovely

      creature he had ever met, and never for one waking moment since her

      first visit, had he succeeded in driving her bewitching image from

      his

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