'_Un dragon volant_, flying over the empty sea!' said Logan. 'The Highlanders beat the world for fantastic visions, and the Islanders beat the Highlanders. But, look here, am I too inquisitive? The night when we first thought of the Disentanglers you said there was--somebody. But I understood that she and you were of one mind, and that only parents and poverty were in the way. And now, from what you told me this morning at Inchnadampf, it seems that there is no understanding between you and _this_ lady, Miss Macrae.' 'There is none,' said Merton. 'I tried to keep my feelings to myself--I'm ashamed to say that I doubt if I succeeded.' 'Any chance?' asked Logan, putting his arm in Merton's in the old schoolboy way. 'I would rather not speak about it,' said Merton. 'I had meant to go myself on the Monday. Then came the affair of Sunday night,' and he sighed. 'Then the somebody before was another somebody?' 'Yes,' said Merton, turning rather red. 'Men have died and the worms have eaten them, but not for love,' muttered Logan. IV. The Adventure of Eachain of the Hairy Arm On arriving at the Castle Logan and Merton found poor Mr. Macrae comparatively cheerful. Bude and Lady Bude had told what they had gleaned, and the millionaire, recognising his daughter's hair-pin, had all but broken down. Lady Bude herself had wept as he thanked her for this first trace, this endearing relic, of the missing girl, and he warmly welcomed Merton, who had detected the probable meaning of the enigmatic 'Seven Hunters.' 'It is to _you_,' he said, 'Mr. Merton, that I owe the intelligence of my daughter's life and probable comfort.' Lady Bude caught Merton's eye; one of hers was slightly veiled by her long lashes. The telegrams of the day had only brought the usual stories of the fruitless examination of yachts, and of hopes unfulfilled and clues that led to nothing. The outermost islets were being searched, and a steamer had been sent to St. Kilda. At home Mr. Gianesi had explained to Mr. Macrae that he and his partner were forced, reluctantly, by the nature of the case, to suspect treason within their own establishment in London, a thing hitherto unprecedented. They had therefore installed a new machine in a carefully locked chamber at their place, and Mr. Gianesi was ready at once to set up a corresponding recipient engine at Castle Skrae. Mr. Macrae wished first to remove the machine in the smoking-room, but Blake ventured to suggest that it had better be left where it was. 'The conspirators,' he said, 'have made one blunder already, by mentioning "The Seven Hunters," unless, indeed, that was intentional; they _may_ have meant to lighten our anxiety, without leaving any useful clue. They may make another mistake: in any case it is as well to be in touch with them.'