“Ye can ask that!” replied the servant desperately; “it's mair than I can tell. All I ken is that I thought the voice fair-spoken, and I alloo it was a daft-like thing to do, but I pu'ed the bar, I had nae sooner dune't nor I was gripped by the thrapple and kep' doon by a couple o' the blackguards that held me a' the time the ither three or four were—”
Doom caught him by the collar and shook him angrily.
“Ye lie, ye Fife cat; I see't in your face!”
“I can speak as to the single voice and its humility, and to the sudden plucking forth of this gentleman,” said Count Victor quietly, at sea over this examination. But for the presence of the woman he would have cried out at the mockery of the thing.
“You must hear my explanation, Montaiglon,” said Doom. “If you will come to the hall, I will give it. Olivia, you will come too. I should have taken your hints of yesterday morning, and the explanation of this might have been unnecessary.”
Doom and his guest went to the salle; Olivia lingered a moment behind.
“Who was it, Mungo?” said she, whisperingly to the servant. “I know by the face of you that you are keeping something from my father.”
“Am I?” said he. “Humph! It's Fife very soon for Mungo Boyd, I'm tellin' ye.”
“But who was it?” she persisted.
“The Arroquhar men,” said he curtly; “and that's all I ken aboot it,” and he turned to leave her.