"Well, she spotted you were a detective—"
Carrington started and then laughed.
"Confound these women!" said he. "They're so infernally independent of reason, they always spot things they shouldn't!"
"Then she discovered she was suspected and so she got in a stew, poor girl, and went to see Rattar. Do you know what he told her? That I was employing you and meant to convict Sir Malcolm and her and hang them with my own hands!"
"The old devil!" cried Carrington. "Well, no wonder she bolted, Mr. Cromarty!"
"But even that was done by Simon's advice. He actually gave her an address in London to go to."
"Pretty thorough!" murmured Carrington.
"Now what do you make of that? And what ought one to do? And, by the way, how did you guess Simon was at the bottom of it?"
Carrington leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment before answering.
"We are in pretty deep waters, Mr. Cromarty," he said slowly. "As to what I make of it—nothing as yet. As to what we are to do—also nothing in the meantime. But as to how I guessed, well I can tell you this much. I had to get information from someone, and so I called on Mr. Rattar and told him who I was—in strict confidence, by the way, so that he had no business to tell Miss Farmond or anybody else. I had started off, I may say, with a wrong guess: I thought Rattar himself was probably either my employer or acting for my employer, and when I suggested this he told me I was right."