"I think you won, Mr. Burnham," laughed Fuller, and Dennis smiled in reply. We slid alongside the landing-stage and stepped out, and Dennis's schoolmaster was about to slip the painter through a ring and make the boat fast. But evidently the ring was broken. The man came ashore, and Hilderman began to lead us up the path. But Dennis deliberately turned and watched the sailor. Hilderman and his companion strolled ahead while I stood beside Dennis. The man with the red hair fished among a pile of wire rope, and picked out a small marline-spike. Then he lifted a large stone, held the marline-spike on the wooden planking of the landing-stage, and hammered it in with the stone. Then he threw the painter round it, and made the boat secure in that way. "Yes," murmured Dennis quietly, as we turned to join the others, "I think I won." For the man had held the stone in his left hand. CHAPTER XIV. A FURTHER MYSTERY. "Well," said Hilderman, as we caught them up, "what about lunch? After his journey I daresay Mr. Burnham has an appetite, not to mention his excursion into the realm of detective fiction." "We lunched at Mallaig," I explained, "with Mr. Garnesk before we saw him off." "Oh, did you?" he asked, with evident surprise. "I didn't see you at the hotel." "We went to the Marine," I replied, "to save ourselves a climb up the hill." "We had a snack at Mallaig too," the American continued, "intending to lunch here. Are you sure you couldn't manage something?" "It would have to be a very slight something," Dennis put in. "But I daresay we could manage that." "Good!" said Hilderman. "Come along, then, and let's see what we can do." We strolled into the drawing-room through the inevitable verandah, and though Hilderman was the tenant of the furnished house he had contrived to impart a suggestion of his own personality to the room. The furniture was arranged in a delightfully lazy manner that almost made you yawn. The walls were hung with photographic enlargements of some of the most beautiful spots in the neighbourhood. I remembered what Myra had told me as to his being an enthusiastic photographer, so I asked him about them. "Did you take these, Mr. Hilderman?" "Yes," he answered. "These are just a few of the best. I have many others which I should like you to see some time. I always leave the enlarging to keep me alive during the winter months. These are a few odd ones I enlarged for decorative purposes." "They are beautiful," I said enthusiastically, for they were real beauties, more like drawings in monochrome than photographs. "And you certainly seem to have got about the neighbourhood since your arrival." "Yes," he laughed, "I don't miss much when I get out with my camera. Most of these were taken during the first month of my stay here." "These snow scenes from the Cuchulins are simply gorgeous, and surely this is the Kingie Pool on the Garry?"