Therefore again I left
Euston, and, traveling through the night, took my seat at the
breakfast-table at Greenlaw next morning.
Sir George, who was sitting alone--it not being my aunt's habit to
appear early--welcomed me, and then in his bluff manner sniffed and
exclaimed:
"Nice goings on up at Rannoch! Have you heard of them?"
"No. What?" I cried breathlessly, staring at him.
"Well, my suspicions that those Leithcourts were utter outsiders turns
out to be about correct."
"Why?"
"Well, it's a very funny story, and there are a dozen different
distorted versions of it," he said. "But from what I can gather the true
facts are these: About seven o'clock the night before last, as
Leithcourt and his house-party were dressing for dinner, a telegram
arrived. Mrs. Leithcourt opened it, and at once went off into hysterics,
while her husband, in a breathless hurry, slipped off his evening
clothes again and got into an old blue serge suit, tossed a few things
into a bag, and then went along to Muriel's room to urge her to prepare
for secret flight.
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