And behind him, on the near skyline, the detective beheld the hurrying figure of a girl.
Leaving the man with the cart to grapple with his luggage, which was not of large dimensions, Gimblet walked to meet Juliet. As they drew near, she stopped and held out her hand.
"Mr. Gimblet?" she asked.
"Yes," he said; "and you are Miss Byrne, are you not?"
He looked at her keenly as he spoke, noticing that her eyes were red and swollen, and that her whole bearing was eloquent of sorrow and want of sleep. She lifted a miserable face to him.
"Yes," she said. "I am so glad you have come, but it has seemed a long while. I suppose you couldn't get here before. Do you know all that has happened?"
"I know that Lord Ashiel is dead," said the detective. "Hardly more than that. Will you tell me all there is to tell before we go up to the castle?"
"I have left the castle, and am staying with Lady Ruth Worsfold, whose house you can just see through the trees," she said. "Will you come there first, or shall we go straight to the castle. It is about a mile through the woods."
"Let us walk straight up," said Gimblet. "You can tell me as we go. I have, as you say, been a long while getting here, but it is fortunate that the day is fine. I hope it has not rained during the last thirty-six hours?"
"I don't know," said the girl. "No; I believe it has been fine. But I haven't taken much notice what the weather has been like." She was disappointed and indignant that he should talk in this trivial strain, when her own heart was nearly bursting, and her every nerve stretched and tingling. She had pinned all her hopes on the arrival of the famous detective.