"Why should I be your go-between?" I demanded. "I tell you I don't mean to be mixed up in any of your doings."

"As to why," replied Morgan with a gentle smile, "the explanation is simple. You would not like me to march up to the door of Hopeton and ask for Miss Tanish. There would be a hell of a row, which is what you want to avoid. So you see, from your own point of view, it will be much better to arrange a meeting privately for me."

I felt in a cleft stick, for what he said was true. I could see no way out of the difficulty, and was on the point of admitting as much when Morgan spoke again.

"Look here, Seaton," he said, and as he spoke he crossed the room and put his hand on my shoulder in a friendly fashion. "You are out of your depth in this business. It's all mystery to

brow! Dear, dear, she is a cute piece of goods, your Miss Forbes. But I like her. You're a lucky man, Seaton. All the lavish flows your way. All the more reason why you should do your damnedest for me."

"Whatever is in the wind, it does not concern_me," I said stubbornly. "You can easily send Miss Tanish a note."

"Perhaps if I tell you more, you may be more friendly towards me," said Morgan. "At present all you know is that our friend the Squiremy forty-second cousin by the way-calls me a thief, a swindler, a rogue, a blackguard, and any other tasty little title that crosses his august mind. Also you know, that Marigold his daughter does not hold yours truly in high reputebut I don't believe you have ever heard her call me any of these pretty names, eh?"

"No," I agreed. "She has even gone so far as to say that she had no reason to doubt your honesty.'

"Heaven bless her!" smiled Morgan, and I did not know whether it was in earnest or burlesque. "Well, I'll tell you the story. You can picture me leading a peaceful life in Chestnuthill, N.Y., undisturbed by the slightest thought of my English relations. I am a portrait painter, and if you knew anything at all about modern art, the name of Jabez Morgan would be familiar to you. Don't apologise. It's no disgrace to you,

He paused to offer me a oigarette, and light one for himself.

"Dear, dear, it's a strange thing is family affection," he continued, as he blew a great cloud of smoke from his lungs. "Along comes the Squire with his pretty daughter, reveals himself to me as the long-lost cousin, who has looked me up while touring the States, and sits plump down in my little place like a clam.

"I treated them to the best I had - showed them the sights, introduced them to my friends, gave parties for them, -altogether the Squire had no cause to complain of his welcome, And note this, Seaton. At that time I just took the old boy's word that he was my cousin. I knew nothing of my ancestry. We don't take much stock in corpses over yonder, as you know. Along comes the Squire, tells me I am the last descendant of the younger branch of the family, and there you are. Of course I knew that my mother's name was Tanish, and that she hadn't a relation left that I could borrow from, so I guessed he was right-which he was, as it turned out, except on one point.

"Well, this went on for some weeks, and we all had a real good time. I got fair orazed with Marigold. I won't say she was ditto to me, but she was as friendly and cousinly as a young girl could well be,

"Bit by bit our friend the Squire began to let me into the history of the family. I'm not strong on it even now, but I can tell you enough to give you an idea how we drifted across the pond.

"It seems that way back in early times, when the Stewarts were mucking around anyhow in the old country, our little lot were all for the nobby side when the ructions began. There was a certain Roy Tanish fought in the rebellion of 1715, and got his skull cracked for his pains. He had two sons, had Roy, who were in petticoats and pinnies at the time, and it was about these two sons that the Squire and I had our first rumpus.

"I'll give the Squire's version first, for it was all news to me and I didn't doubt a word of it. According to him, then, these two sons were called Dougal and Hamish-Dougal being the elder and the heir to the estate of Hopeton, which was then a much grander affair than it is now. Years passed by and the two boys grew up. According to the Squire, Dougal, the elder brother, was a quiet, inoffensive kind of a mutt; while Hamish, the younger brother, was a dashing go-ahead fellow, who got mixed up in all the plots and games that were going on round about the French Court.

time the boys were well on in the thirties, and Dougal had married and settled down at Hopeton, Master Hamish, like the bold bad boy he was, was in the thick of the trouble.

"Well, according to the Squire, Hamish was over in Ayrshire before the rebellion opened out, making arrangements for a general rising in the district and turning every. thing that was negotiable into dollars. He did his damnedest to rush brother Dougal into the biz., but Doug, was a fly old cuss and lay low. The utmost he would do was to give Hamish all the dust he could scrape together by levying toll on his tenants. In this way he hoped to be on good terms with the Pretender if he came out top, and at the same time avoid trouble if Bonnie Prince Charlie backed a dud.

"Hamish got together a good fat wad of greenbacks. He didn't send them over to Charlie in France-probably he knew his fellow-conspirators too well. His idea was to present the treasure to the boss himself when he came over and make sure of all the credit. How ever, it never came off. The plot fizzled out. Hamish had banked his fund somewhere, to be drawn at the right moment, but when the other side roped him in which they did when his luck was out-he never had a chance to get at it.

"According to the laws of those days, Hamish's head was due to be amputated at dawn or thereabouts; but whether there was a blunder in the exe

eution department, or whether Hamish had influential friends on the winning side, the fact remains that he got off with transportation for life to the plantations in Virginia, and was duly towed across the pond with a cargo of lucky ones like himself.

"Now, according to the Squire-for we are still following his version of the storyDougal stayed at home and lived happy ever after. He didn't know but what Prince Charlie had received the dollars and blued the lot on his unfortunate trip to Sootland, so although he mourned the loss of his share, he sat tight and thought himself well out of it all at the price.

"It seems there was only one person who knew that this treasure still existed intact, and he was a confidential Flemish servant who had been mixed up with Hamish in all his plottings. When his master was caught out, he succeeded in escaping from the country. For years after, he intended to return to Scotland and hunt up the oof, but something always prevented him. Besides, he had only a very vague idea of where Hamish had planted the stuff.

"As he grew old, his conscience began to trouble him, I suppose. Anyhow he wrote to Dougal Tanish, and told him all he knew of the treasure, which wasn't much, except that he knew the dollars had been planted and never recovered.

"The Squire didn't know if

his ancestor had ever been able to read this letter. It was written in Flemish, and he himself discovered it by chance while hunting through a lot of old papers. He happened to have a Belgian lady at Hopeton who was able to translate the letter for him, and then the old boy started hunting round every likely spot in the neighbourhood, hoping to light on the dollars by chance.

"Of course he failed. But being a determined old boy, he began to think of other ways of hitting on the dibs, and the only possible chance lay in hunting out Hamish's descendants in the States, and finding out if they had any papers or traditions on the subject. Hence the cousinly visit to yours truly."

I had listened with great interest to Morgan's narrative, which explained so much that had been dark to me. I felt sure that his story was true in the main, though it might be coloured to suit his own interests.

"Surely Tanish did not put the real object of his visit quite so plainly after at first pretending that he was on a mere pleasure tour," I commented, as Morgan paused in his story.

"No, he is too wily an old bird for that. The story, as I

have told it to you, came out in bits, now and again, generally after Marigold had hopped off to bed and we were having a nightcap together. Then gradually he began to wonder if my side of the family had not left any records. He told me he was going to write a history of the family, and that a section on the American branch would complete it nicely. The treasure part of the story only came out when he found he couldn't get me interested in the family records otherwise. I was sure all along that he had something more than the history of the family up his sleeve, so I pretended to take little interest, and at last he was compelled to put down his best trump."

"From what you said at the start," I said, "I gather that the story you have told me is not strictly accurate?"

"No, it is not. The main part of the yarn is gospel truth; but on one particular point it runs off the lines just about as far as it could. The Squire was taking no chances that he could avoid, but then neither W88 I. We now come to my side of the story. I've my records here in my grip."

Morgan went to the neighbouring bedroom, and returned carrying a small black bag.

Morgan placed the bag upon the table, opened it, and took out a large envelope.

Squire should be such a doubledealing rogue-especially when he has a daughter like Marigold!"

"I have only your word for it that he is a rogue, remember. And I have his that you are one, for that matter," I added sharply, for I had no intention of being false to the salt I

ate.

Morgan smiled, but showed no trace of embarrassment.

"Well, well," he said with a sigh, "slinging names around don't help things for'ard. Documentary evidence is the sure test. Tanish must have gone to some trouble picking up my trail. Our family came from way down in Virginia, and my mother was the last of the bunch. Her two brothers were both killed in the war, fighting under Lee, and she was left a mere kiddy with nobody but an old black mammy to look after her. Some kind neighbours took her in and brought her up, and when she grew to long frocks she up and married a Northerner from New York State-no doubt to the great horror of her foster-parents. Anyhow, she stuok to the family papers good and safe, and handed them over to me before she died, poor lady.

"These same papers were stowed away for years at the back of an old writing-desk, and I had all but forgotten them when along comes Squire with his family history. I lay low, as I've told you, and learnt all I could, but I took no great interest until he out with the story of the treasure. That

set me raking out the lumber in the writing-desk, but I chose midnight to do it, when my affectionate relative was safe in the land of nod.

"I found the story of my great-great-grandfather Hamish's life wrote out in his own hand, and a pesky hard hand it was to decipher, as you can see for yourself.'

Morgan drew some sheets from the envelope and handed them to me. They were yellow and worn with age, and the ink was faded to a yellow brown, which was almost illegible, apart from the crabbedness of the handwriting.

seen

"Has Laird Tanish this?" I asked, as I glanced through the pages, without being able to read more than a stray word.

"Sure!" replied Morgan, chuckling as though at some joke of his own. "I guess he has read very little of it, though. He hadn't time. However, I'll tell you about that in its place. I fished out this paper, then, and spent the best part of the night wrestling with it. I found that the story was pretty much as the Squire had told it, except for one thing. Hamish, my ancestor, was the elder brother, and Dougal, his ancestor, the younger. That put rather a different complexion on things! It was Hamish himself who soraped together the dollars, sold what he could of the family estates, and raised money on the rest. Dougal took no hand in the rising at all. He simply lay doggo, saying nuffin.

"There is a passage in the