"Which indeed they could," I agreed readily. "Any attempt our enemy might make to get away from us would probably mean a bolt for the open sea, and a few dozen dreadnoughts would be cheerful companionship." Garnesk laughed, and we strolled up to the house, putting the finishing touches to our toilet as we went. Shortly after breakfast we made ready for our trip to Mallaig. Myra was very anxious to come with us until I explained that we should have to wait there till we had met Dennis and seen the specialist off. She was naturally sensitive about appearing in public with the shade on, poor child, so she readily gave up the idea. "I'm very sorry you're going, Mr. Garnesk," said Myra, as she shook hands. "I shall see you again soon," he replied. "I have by no means finished with your case, and as soon as you report the effect of the glasses I shall send you'll see me come tripping in one afternoon, or else I shall ask you to come down to me." "It's very good of you to take so much trouble about it," said Myra gratefully. "Not at all," he responded lightly. "It is a pleasure, Miss McLeod, I assure you." The old general was still more effusive of his gratitude, and as he waved good-bye from the landing-stage his face was almost comically eloquent of regret. "By the way," said Garnesk as we passed Glasnabinnie, "don't tell Hilderman much about what has happened. We feel we can trust him, but you never know a man's propensity for talking until you know him very well." "Right," I agreed. "I'll take care of that. We can't afford to get this talked about. It would be very painful for Myra and her father if it became the chatter of the country-side." "Besides," Garnesk pointed out, "it will be much safer to be quiet about it. If we are dealing with men they will probably prove to be desperate men, and we don't want to run any risks that we can avoid." "No," said I, "this is going to be quite unpleasant enough without looking for trouble." So when we arrived in Mallaig and met Hilderman on the fish-table I was careful to remember my companion's advice. "Ah, Mr. Ewart!" the American exclaimed in surprise, "How are you? And you, Professor? I hope your visit has proved entirely satisfactory. How is Miss McLeod?" "Just the same, I am sorry to say," Garnesk replied glibly. "There is no sign at all of her sight returning. I can make nothing of it whatever." "Dear, dear, Professor!" Hilderman exclaimed, with a shake of the head. "That is very bad, very bad indeed. Haven't you even any idea as to how the poor young lady lost her sight?" "None whatever," said Garnesk, with a hopeless little shrug. "I can't imagine anything, and I'm not above admitting that I know nothing. There is no use my pretending I can do anything for poor Miss McLeod when I feel convinced that I can't." "So you've given it up altogether, Mr. Garnesk?" Hilderman asked, as we strolled to the station.