"He was only asking if I had got the licence," winked Mr Craigie.
The curious look passed from her face, and she laughed as pleasantly as he could wish.
"I'll take the bag myself," said the laird. "Oh, it's no weight for me. I used to be rather a dab at throwing the hammer in my day. But where am I to take it?"
"I'll show you," said she.
So out they set, Mr Craigie carrying the suit-case, and Miss Holland in the most delightful humour beside him. He felt he could have carried it for a very long way. She led him through the garden and out into a side lane between the wall and a hedge.
"Just put it down here," she said. "And now I want you to come back for something else, if you don't mind."
"Mind?" said the laird gallantly. "Not me! But I'm wondering what you are driving at."
She only smiled, but from her merry eye he felt sure that some very brilliant jest was afoot, and he joked away pleasantly as they returned to the house.
"Now," she said, "do you mind waiting in the smoking-room for ten minutes or so?"
She went out, and Mr Craigie waited, mystified but happy. He waited for ten minutes; he waited for twenty, he waited for half an hour, and still there was no sign of the fascinating Miss Holland. And then he sent a servant to look for her. Her report gave Mr Craigie the strongest sensation that had stirred that good-natured humourist for many a day. Miss Holland was not in her room, and no more, apparently, were her belongings. The toilette table was stripped, the wardrobe was empty; in fact, the only sign of her was her trunk, strapped and locked.