"What is it all about?" I called to him, when I had fully recovered from my surprise. "I only wanted to have a look at the view," he laughed back, and put the glasses to his eyes. First he examined the house, and then he turned his gaze in the direction of the sea. It was then that it dawned on me that he was looking for a yacht. This was the fateful hour, and it had naturally struck him that the unknown yacht might be in the vicinity. "Well," I shouted, "can you see the yacht?" "No," he replied, "there's nothing in sight, only a paddle steamer; looks like an excursion of some sort." "Oh! that's the _Glencoe_," I explained; "she won't help us at all. She runs with tourists from Mallaig." "She seems to be barely able to take care of herself," he laughed. "I shouldn't like to be on her in a storm." We conversed fairly easily while he was on the cliff, for we were not many yards apart, and I began to wonder when he was coming down again. "Have you any objection to my joining you?" I asked presently, as there seemed to be nothing for me to do below. "Stop where you are for a bit, old man," he advised. "I shall be down in a minute." "As long as you like," I replied. "You've got a fine view from there, anyway. Don't worry about me." I sat down on a rock, refilled my pipe, and prepared to wait till he rejoined me. "Hi! Ewart!" he called presently, for my mind had already wandered to that darkened "den" at the house. "Hullo," I answered, jumping to my feet. "What is it?" "Do you notice anything unusual?" "No," I shouted, "nothing that----," but suddenly I felt a strange singing in my ears, my pulses quickened, my voice died away into nothing. I looked up at Garnesk; he was leaning perilously near the edge of the cliff waving to me. I saw his lips move, yet I heard no sound. My heart was thumping against my chest with audible beats. I looked round me in every direction. No, there was nothing strange happening that the eye could see, yet here was I with a choking pulsation in my throat. My temples too were throbbing like a couple of steam hammers. Again I looked up at Garnesk; he was climbing hurriedly down the cliff. He paused and waved to me, and again his lips moved, and again I heard nothing. Surely, I told myself, the events of the past few days had told on my strength. This was nerves, sheer nerves. Garnesk must give me his arm to the house. I would lie down and rest, and I should be all right in a few moments. It was nerves, that was all. But if Garnesk were not very quick about it I should have burst a blood-vessel in my brain before he reached me. Already my chest seemed to have swelled to twice its size. Garnesk, as I looked, seemed to be farther off than ever, a tiny speck in the distance.