"After a little while, though, I told him how badly my head ached, and he was very sympathetic about it. 'You ought not to have come down to dinner,' he said, 'the dining-room gets so hot and stuffy; it is a low room, and Uncle Douglas never will have the window open, even on a lovely night like this.' There is a door at the foot of the stairs, opposite the gun-room, and as he spoke he drew back the bolt. 'Come out into the garden for a few minutes,' he said, holding the door open for me to pass, 'a little fresh air will do you more good than anything.' "The night was warm, I suppose, for Scotland, but cool enough to seem wonderfully fresh and invigorating after the enclosed air within the house. It was very dark, and the sky was overcast, though just above us a star or two was shining, very large and clear. Otherwise I could hardly distinguish anything at all, except the line, about fifty yards away, where the lawn came to an end, and the ground dipped abruptly down towards the loch, so that the level edge of the grass showed up against the less opaque darkness of the sky, like a black velvet border to a piece of black silk. "We stood there a little while, till I remembered I must go to the library. My head was already much better when I turned back into the house; Sir David didn't follow me; he seemed to be staring through the gloom in front of him. 'I am going in,' I said. 'What are you looking at?' 'I thought I saw something move over there on the skyline,' he replied; 'do you see anything?' I looked, but could make out nothing. 'Well,' he said, 'if you are going in, I think I'll just go over and see if there's anyone about; you might leave the door open, will you?' "And so I left him, and made my way to the library. As I passed through the billiard-room, Mr. McConachan, who was knocking the balls about, asked me if I had seen his cousin, and I told him Sir David was outside on the lawn by the gun-room door.