There she thought they would be perfectly safe.
The next few days passed without anything occurring to disturb the peace of this misguided peasant girl.
Every morning the man who called himself Lord Arondelle, but who was known at the house he occupied only as Mr. Scott, and who professed to be the husband of the young woman—went out in the morning and remained absent until evening.
Every day the girl, known to her servants as Mrs. Scott, spent in dressing, going out riding in a cab, and freely spending the money that her husband lavished upon her, and in gormandizing in a manner that must have destroyed the digestive organs of any animal less sound and strong than this "handsome hizzie" from the Highlands.
On the Monday of the week following the tragedy at Castle Lone, however, Mr. Scott came home in the evening in a state of agitation and alarm.
"Where is that satchel with the money?" he inquired as he entered the bedroom of his wife.
She stared at him in astonishment, but his looks so frightened her that she hastened to produce the bag.
He took from it a little bag of gold marked £500, and threw it in her lap, saying:
"There, take that!" And before she could utter a word, he hurried out of the room.
She ran down stairs after him, calling: