"I expect to have an opportunity of doing so," he agreed seriously. "That young lady," he went on in a low, confidential tone, "played a trick on me that I find it hard to forgive. I look forward, with some satisfaction, to the day when the laugh will be on my side. I admit I ought to be above such paltry considerations, but, what would you? I don't think I am. But please don't mention my presence to her, or her friend. I imagine she has not so far heard of it."
"I won't if you don't like," said Juliet. "I don't suppose I shall see them to speak to. But why do you feel so sure she doesn't know you are here?"
"Oh, how should she?" Gimblet returned evasively. "I don't suppose my presence would appear worth commenting upon to anyone but yourself or Lord Ashiel, unless Lady Ruth should mention it."
"I don't think she will," said Juliet. "She said she could not speak to anyone to-day, and she and Mark have gone off together in his own boat. I said I would walk home."
"Won't you drive with me?" Gimblet suggested.
He had hired a "machine" from the distant village of Inverlegan to carry him to and from the funeral. But Juliet preferred to walk, finding in physical exercise the only relief she could obtain from the aching trouble that oppressed and sickened her.
Gimblet drove back alone to the cottage. He had much to occupy his thoughts.
Once back in his room he turned his mind to the writing on the sheet of paper.
"Remember that where there's a way there's a will. Face curiosity and take the bull by the horn."
The message, as Gimblet read it, was as puzzling as if it had been completely in cipher.