I waved to him and he came scrambling down to the beach, his mouth wide open as usual and wreathed in smiles. As he approached a wild thought struck me. He was bearded, thickset, and of medium height. Wrap him in an oilskin, and there you were! I mention all my inspirations to show that I really did cover the ground pretty thoroughly in that blessed island. It is true that the conduct of my oil-skinned acquaintance was scarcely that of a congenital idiot; still, I was resolved to leave no stone unturned. "Shoots, shoots!" he babbled in his curious thick voice. "Jock heard shoots!" I looked at him fixedly and in a serious voice replied in a German accent you could have cut with a knife, "I vant to know zomezing about sheeps, Herr Jock, not about shoots. How many sheeps are zere in zis island, eh?" Did I see a gleam of intelligence for an instant in Jock's eye? I cannot honestly say. I only know that he looked not unnaturally surprised, and then thickly answered what sounded like "A hundred and six." Anyhow it was nothing that seemed to illuminate the subject very brightly. "And how many wax matches?" I enquired. Jock hooted with laughter. He sounded so cheerful, that I perforce laughed too, and then I gazed at him sombrely. "Jock," I said, "you are a fraud and a disappointment." He laughed again, and then all at once a much more sensible idea struck me. He was not a very promising ally, but he might prove better than none at all. "Jock," said I, "I am a stranger." He nodded and seemed to understand. "Have you seen any other strangers in this island of yours?" I asked. He seemed a little confused. "No, no," he began, and then altered it into "Yes, yes." Which did he mean, or did he mean anything at all. "A man in an oilskin coat, with a moustache on his lip--here," I went on, touching my own lip. "Who goes out at night and walks along the shore; have you seen any one like that?" Again he seemed to look intelligent, but he only shook his head vaguely. "Well," I said, "if you do see any one like that let me know, and you will see some more shoots. Also I shall give you this." I held up a new half crown and he laughed so joyfully that I began to have a faint hope he might prove of some use after all. And yet when I had left him and resumed my walk back to the Rendalls' house, my spirits were not very high. As an ally Jock did not impress me with a feeling of great confidence, while his failure to recognise my description of the oil-skinned man depressed me unreasonably. I told myself that the opinion of the parish idiot on the subject of strangers was of small value. Besides, quite likely the oilskinned man would not be a stranger to the people in the neighbourhood. They might know him familiarly as a prosperous farmer or a hardy fisherman--or as their own doctor or their doctor's guest, or--no, he could not be their laird for Mr. Rendall was too tall. In short my talk with Jock had proved nothing one way or the other.