Just as I had come to this decision, in walked the laird, and in two minutes I had come to another decision, which was to adhere to the plan of campaign I had thought of as I walked, in so far as keeping my business to myself was concerned. My first impression of Mr. Rendall was of height, and a certain quiet, formidable quality. He was grey-haired, with a close-clipped grizzled moustache, loose clothes as though he had shrunk a little in girth, and the unmistakable air of a man who had seen considerably more of the world than the island of Ransay. He received me quite politely and hospitably, but with every moment that passed I grew more acutely conscious of something deterrent behind his courtesy. A sense of a strong personality in the background, not actually hostile as yet, but ironic and critical, set me instinctively and instantly on guard. Not that I actually suspected the man; but to take him straightway into my confidence was simply impossible. A man of another temperament might have done so--and quite possibly have been right; but his effect on me was like tapping a limpet. I gave him my name and then I said in a quiet confidential way, "Forgive this intrusion, Mr. Rendall, but the fact is my ship has evidently been called away." I glanced towards the window, and following my look he could see the smoke of the cruiser just visible on the horizon. He gave a little nod but said nothing. "I was landed last night on a certain piece of business," I went on, "and it is no part of that business to make myself conspicuous, and so I have taken the liberty of coming to your house." "You wish to wait here till your ship returns?" he enquired. "I thought perhaps you might know of some lodging where I might remain quietly." He smiled slightly. "You had better stay here. There is no other lodging." I began to thank him, but he cut me short. "It is Hobson's choice," said he, "and my house is not overcrowded at present. Have you lunched?" "I am afraid I haven't." "Come and join us. My daughter and I had just sat down." He moved towards the door. "I have no luggage," I said. "I can lend you what you want." I thanked him again, and said brazenly, "May I ask for the loan of a coat. I am anxious not to exhibit my uniform coat in the island if I can help it." I thought he looked a trifle surprised (it must be remembered that all this time I was in a buttoned-up oilskin), but he merely nodded again and led me upstairs to a pleasant bed-room with a low ceiling and some heavy old-fashioned mahogany furniture. There he left me and in a moment returned with a brush and comb and a tweed coat. I had noticed that in one of the drawers there was a key, and as I took the coat I said, "I hope you won't think me unduly cautious if I lock my uniform coat up in one of these drawers. There are certain papers in the pockets which I am bound to be careful of."