"Thank you," I said, as I noticed the eager look on his keen, handsome face. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. To-morrow I hope I shall find the man who knew Sholto was blind." "I only know of one outside the General's household," he answered. "But I don't even know that!" I cried, forgetting Dennis for the moment. As for Olvery, he had gone clean out of my mind. "Who do you mean?" "The American," said my companion. "Hilderman!" I exclaimed. "Surely you must be mistaken. Why, he was absolutely astonished when we told him. He can't have known." "Still," Garnesk insisted, "I felt sure he knew. I suspected something about him, but I was wrong to do that, quite wrong; I admit that now. I couldn't at first see why he pretended he hadn't heard that Sholto was blind. You may have noticed that I tried to give him the impression that I had examined Miss McLeod and come to the conclusion that I could do nothing. I confess I did that to see how he took it. But I was on a wrong scent altogether. He knew about the dog, that was obvious, but it was also obvious that he hadn't been told from an official source, so to speak. He kept fishing for information. He brought up the dog several times, each time with a query mark in his voice--as you might say. He remarked that the _last_ time he saw Miss McLeod she had her beautiful dog with her. That made me suspicious, because from what you told me she always had her dog with her. Then he said her dog must be feeling it very keenly, you remember. I tried him with my pessimistic conclusions to see how he took it. You see, as soon as I saw the dog I put contagious disease out of the question. Natural forces unguided seemed impossible, but natural forces of some nature that we can't yet understand seemed probable. Still I was wrong to suspect Hilderman, quite wrong. Besides he couldn't possibly have stolen the dog." "I'm glad you feel you were wrong there," I said, "because I rather like the man. I shouldn't care to have to suspect him." "Don't suspect him, whatever you do," said the oculist earnestly. "Whatever you do, don't do that. He might be very useful. Make a friend of him. You'll want all your friends." He rose and stretched his legs, and I followed suit. We stood for a moment on the Chemist's Rock and gazed up the river, over the top of the falls, into the silver and purple symphony of a highland night. Presently my companion turned and took my arm. "I've seen all I want to see," he said as he began to lead me down to the pool again. "They'll wonder what has become of us. And as I've seen enough for one night, let's get back to the house." "It's a wonderful view at any time of the day or night," I agreed, and I sighed as I thought of poor Myra. "It must be," said Garnesk absently, picking his way across the rocks. "It must be a magnificent view. I haven't noticed it; you must bring me here to-morrow." CHAPTER VIII. MISTS OF UNCERTAINTY.