"No German ships I am sure!" I cried through a mouthful of porridge. "They are cowards! They will not venture _here_--no fears! They fear our brave sailors too much! Aha! We know that, eh?" They agreed as coldly as I could wish. Evidently I was producing a thoroughly bad impression. At the same time nobody broke into whispered German, or made any comment that could conceivably be taken for a pass-word. I thought I would try giving them one myself. "Are there many sheep in this island?" I asked. Jock emitted another blast of genial laughter and Mr. Scollay as cautiously as ever replied, "A good few." But there was no sign of any secret understanding of my words, and reluctantly I began to come to the conclusion that neither my friend of last night nor any of his confederates were here. It is true that the position of the house fitted my theory, and that its lonely situation on the very edge of the sea was ideal, and quite possibly these people might know more than they ought, they might in fact be abettors of treason and concealers of traitors, but that they were not the principals seemed evident enough. Still, in any event it seemed to me of prime importance to disseminate a report of a suspicious stranger as widely and quickly as possible, so I selected the middle of another mouthful as the moment of enquiring. "This pretty farm, my friend, does it belong to you?" "No," said my host, "the island a' belongs to Mr. Rendall." "So!" said I. "And this Mr. Rendall, where does he live--in London?" "Not him!" said Mr. Scollay, "he bides in Ransay." I pricked up my ears at this, and my spy-hunt seemed suddenly a much more promising venture. Some of the difficulties of playing a lone hand had already become apparent. But with some one I could confide in, some one who would know everybody in the island and a good deal about them, and who could advise and abet me, it seemed heavy odds against my vanished friend evading me for long. "I think perhaps I ought to pay my respects to Mr. Rendall," I said in a doubtful ruminating way, as though I were debating whether it were quite a safe move. "You'll find him at home," was all the comment my host made. But now that there was a prospect of losing their suspicious visitor, the family all at once set about extracting some information regarding the manner of his arrival in their midst. "You'll no have been long in Ransay?" began my hostess. "Oh no, just a short time," I beamed. "You'll not have come by the boat," pronounced my host. "Not _the_ boat, but surely I must have come by _a_ boat!" I smiled. "I cannot swim from Aberdeen!" I don't know exactly why I mentioned Aberdeen, but it seemed to have a distinctly sedative effect. "You'll not be a dealer?" enquired my host.