"Yes; but it is so strange there should be no message of any kind!" said Mary. And then she instantly added, changing her tone: "Of course, it is not at all strange. Only—only, Big Archie sometimes takes a glass of whisky, you know; and he might have got some answer that he has forgotten—perhaps a note that he has left in his pocket——" "Oh, if you like, I will go with you," said Käthchen at once, rather welcoming a little bit of adventure; and forthwith both of them hurried away to get their waterproofs. The night was dark and blustering; the ordinarily clear twilight of these northern regions was obscured by heavy clouds; and the wind that blew in from the sea brought with it a sense of moisture that promised to become actual rain. The two black figures made their way with little difficulty in the direction of the orange lights of the village, the unseen sea washing up on the beach close by them. Neither spoke; but both walked quickly; perhaps they wanted to be back at Lochgarra House before their absence should be known. Then, just as they were getting near to the inn, Kate suddenly put her hand on her friend’s arm. Ahead of them were two other figures, as black as themselves, but looming larger through the dusk. "That is Big Archie," said Käthchen, in a whisper, "and isn’t the other Hector?—yes, I am sure that is Hector!" At this moment the two men disappeared. "I know where they have gone," Mary said promptly. "They have gone into the tap-room behind. Well, we will follow, in case the people in the inn should deny them. Come along, Käthchen, I know the way." The two young women left the main street, crossed a stable-yard, and, guided by the dull glow of a window, went up to a door, which Mary entered. The next moment they were gazing into a small sanded parlour, where Gilleasbuig Mor and his friend the keeper were standing: indeed, the two men had not had time to sit down nor yet to order anything to drink. The oil-lamp on the table shed a feeble light, but it was quite sufficient to show that Hector, thus caught, was looking terribly guilty; while the great, heavy-shouldered fisherman, whose deep-set grey eyes under the bushy eyebrows seemed to say that he had already had a glass, instantly came to his companion’s help. "Aw, well now," Archie said, in his plaintive Argyllshire accent, "iss it Miss Stanley herself that would be coming in here—indeed, indeed!—and Hector, the honest lad, chist feenished up with ahl his work—oh, aye—the guns ahl cleaned, and the dogs fed, and everything ready for the chentlemen to-morrow—and me coming bye from the Camus Bheag, and says I, ’Hector, will you come along with me and hef a dram when your work is feenished?’ And Miss Stanley need not be thinking there wass any more in our minds than that; for Hector is a fine lad, and a fine keeper, and what harm will a dram do to anyone when ahl the work is done?"