I like to be stirring at a pretty early hour, to get a morning pipe of peace.  But in a strange house it is not always convenient to prowl about too soon; however, I could not interfere with any one in the garden, so to the garden I promptly betook myself.  It wanted an hour until breakfast, and I was rather surprised to find the Benedictine already pacing the broad walk under the terrace, which was out of view of the windows.  He was not smoking, though, and when I accosted him it seemed to me that he looked somewhat disturbed and embarrassed.  We passed a few desultory remarks, and then he asked whether I intended to leave early after breakfast or stay for lunch.  As it happened, I had arranged for Willy to bring the cart in time to start soon after ten; for Val had to drive somewhere in the afternoon, and it was as well to give Tim a rest before starting out again.  This I explained to Father Vansome.

“I wonder whether you could give me a lift,” was his remark.  “I should very much like to consult Father Fleming upon a certain matter, and if you could take me, it would avoid a fuss here.  I shall enjoy the tramp back again.”

Of course I was delighted to give him a lift.  So we set off in due time with Willy on the back seat.  I had been rejoicing in the prospect of an agreeable drive with a pleasant companion, for I had been greatly attracted by the young monk; but I was doomed to disappointment.  My constant efforts at conversation fell flat; for the priest seemed preoccupied, and his responses were evidently merely mechanical.

Father Vansome was closeted with Val up to lunch time.  He sat down to table with us, and after the meal he and Val drove off together in the trap; they had arranged that Father Vansome should get down at a point where their roads diverged.  I was rather astonished to learn, when I took leave of him, that he hoped to return that same evening, as he had a particular reason for wishing to say Mass next day.

Left to myself, I turned my steps in the direction of Archie’s former dwelling at the old mill; for I hoped to light upon some evidence which would clear up to my own satisfaction at least the apparent mystery of Aleck Farquhar’s ghost story.  Although I could not account by any natural means for the event which had startled me at Ardmuir House, I was nevertheless still sceptical with regard to the supposed apparition at the mill-house.  Indeed, I felt more certain than ever that a living person had been playing pranks in the latter case, to serve some purpose of his own; the impossibility of fraud in my regard contrasted strongly with its probability at the old mill.