It was a ding-dong business across the mouth of Nevis, and the _Baltimore_ was leading, if anything, but we had not far to go, and our opponents had taken a course a good deal farther out to sea than we were. Coming up by the lighthouse, however, the _Baltimore_ drew in at a magnificent pace, and swept in to pass inside the lighthouse rock. Hilderman, who was quite distinct at the short distance, stood up in the stern of the _Baltimore_, and looked at us. We were making good time, but we had no chance of outdistancing his powerful boat. But, as he looked at us, and was evidently about to shout some triumphant greeting, I saw him catch sight of Myra, lying at my feet, her face hidden in the shade over her eyes. Suddenly, without the slightest warning, he swung the tiller, and, turning out again, took the long course round the lighthouse, and we slid alongside the fish-table a good minute ahead of him. Myra was delighted; she had no suspicion that we had virtually lost the race, and the trifling excitement gave her a real pleasure. Angus, I could see, was puzzled, but I signed to him to say nothing. My heart warmed to Hilderman; he had seen that Myra was not well, and, divining that it would give her some pleasure to win the race, he had tactfully given way to us. I was really grateful to him for his kindly thought, and determined to thank him as soon as I could. We had nearly half an hour to wait for the mid-day train, and, after seeing Myra and Mary safely ensconced in the Marine Hotel, I went out with Sholto to get the tickets, telegraph to Dennis, and express my gratitude to Hilderman. But when I stepped out of the hotel he was standing in the road waiting for me. "Good morning, Mr. Ewart," he said, coming forward to offer me his hand. "Is there anything the matter with Miss McLeod?" "She's not very well," I replied. "She has something the matter with her eyes. It was very good of you to let us win our little race. Every little pleasure that we can give Miss McLeod just at this time is of great value to us." "Eyes?" said Hilderman, thoughtfully, with the same dreamy expression that Dennis had pointed out at King's Cross. "What sort of thing is it? I know something about eyes." "I'm afraid I can tell you nothing," I replied. "She has suddenly lost her sight in the most amazing and terrible manner. We are just taking her up to London to see a specialist." "Had she any pain?" he asked, "or any dizziness or fainting, or anything like that?" "No," I said; "there is absolutely nothing to go by. It is a most extraordinary affair, and a very terrible blow to us all." "It must be," he said gently, "very, very terrible. I have heard so much about Miss McLeod that I even feel it myself. I am deeply grieved to hear this, deeply grieved." He spoke very sympathetically, and I felt that it was very kind of him to take such a friendly interest in his unknown neighbour.