"And he said," she continued, "that he never heard such ridiculous nonsense as your saying you were coming to the hotel, and that if you preferred a common inn to the house that had been good enough for him and his fathers before him, you could stop away altogether. So there!" "Good--that's great!" I said enthusiastically. "But did you come over by the boat from Glenelg, or what?" "No, dear; I came in the motor-boat, so we don't need to hang about the pier here. We can either go straight home or wait a bit, whichever you like. I wanted to meet you, and I thought you'd rather come back with me in the motor-boat than jolt about in the stuffy old _Sheila_." "Rather, dear; I should say I would," said I--and a lot more besides, which has nothing to do with the story. Suddenly Myra's motherly instinct awoke. "Have you had breakfast?" she asked. "Yes, dear--at Crianlarich. The only decent meal to be got on a railway in this country is a Crianlarich breakfast." "Well, in that case you're ready for lunch. It's gone twelve. I could do with something myself, incidentally, and I want to talk to you before we start for home. Let's have lunch here." I readily agreed, and after calling Sholto, who was being conducted on a tour of inspection by the parson's dog, we strolled up the hill to the hotel. As we entered the long dining-room we came upon Hilderman, seated at one of the tables with his back to us. "Yes," he was saying to the waiter, "I have been spending the week-end on the Clyde in a yacht. I joined the train at Ardlui this morning, and I can tell you----" I didn't wait to hear any more. Rather by instinct than as a result of any definite train of thought, I led Myra quickly behind a Japanese screen to a small table by a side window. After all, it was no business of mine if Hilderman wished to say he had joined the train at Ardlui. He probably had his own reasons. Possibly Dennis was right, and the man was a detective. But I had seen him at King's Cross and again at Edinburgh before we reached Ardlui, so I thought it might embarrass him if I walked in on the top of his assertion that he had just come from the Clyde. However, Myra was with me, which was much more important, and I dismissed Hilderman and his little fib from my mind. "Ronnie," said Myra, in the middle of lunch, "you haven't said anything about the war." "No, dear," I answered clumsily. "It----" It was an astonishingly difficult thing to say when it came to saying it. "And yet that was what you came to see me about?" "Yes, darling. You see, I----" "I know, dear. You've come to tell me that you're going to enlist. I'm glad, Ronnie, very glad--and very, very proud." Myra turned away and looked out of the window. "I hate people who talk a lot about their duty," I said; "but it obviously is my duty, and I know that's what you would want me to do."