When we got back to the house we found Myra and her father--not unnaturally--wondering what had become of us. "What have you been doing, and where have you been, and what do you mean by it?" she asked, playfully. "I wish I could see you. I'm sure you must be looking very guilty." Garnesk and I exchanged hurried glances. It was obvious from her remark that the General had not told her of Sholto's disappearance. I decided there and then that I would have to tell her the whole truth myself, and I gave the others a pretty broad hint that we would like to be left alone. I left the drawing-room and went with them to the library, and answered the old man's feverish questions as to the result of our search. Then I returned to Myra. It was a difficult and unpleasant task that I had to perform, but I got through it somehow; and, as I expected, Myra was very distressed about her dog, but not in the least frightened. I had thought it wiser not to acquaint her with the specialist's deductions as to the connection between her own affliction and the theft of Sholto. When I had given her as many particulars as I thought advisable, the other two rejoined us. "Can you think of anyone at all, Miss McLeod," the specialist asked, "who would be likely to steal Sholto?" "I can't," the girl replied helplessly. "I wish I could." "The two classes of people we want to find," I suggested, "are those who like Sholto so much as to be prepared to steal him, and those who dislike him so much as to be anxious to destroy him." "You don't think they'll hurt him," she cried, anxiously. "Poor old fellow! It's bad enough his being blind; but I would rather know he was dead than being ill-treated." "It's much more likely to be the act of some very human person who covets his neighbour's goods," said Garnesk, reassuringly. "But, at the same time, we must not overlook the other possibility. Can you remember anyone who does dislike the dog?" "Only one," said Myra, thoughtfully, "and I don't think he could have done it. He has a small croft away up above Tor Beag, and Sholto and I were up there one day; but it's months ago. Sholto went nosing round as usual, and the man came out and got very excited in Gaelic--and you know how excited one can be in that language. He was very rude to me about the dog, and it made me rather suspicious. I told daddy about it after." "Yes, and I hope you won't go wandering about so far from home without saying where you're going in future, my dear; because----" said the old man, and pulled himself up in pained confusion as he realised the tragic significance of his words. "Some sort of poacher, perhaps," suggested Garnesk, coming quickly to the rescue.