The Disentanglers Part 60

At this moment the electric bell gave its signal, and the tape began to exude. Mr. Macrae read the message aloud; it ran thus:

'No good wiring to Gianesi and Giambresi at headquarters. You are hitched on to us, and to n.o.body else. Better climb down. What are your terms?'

'This is infuriating,' said Mr. Macrae. 'It _must_ be a practical joke, but how to reach the operators?'

'Let me wire to-morrow by the old-fashioned way,' said Merton; 'I hear that one need not go to Lairg to wire. One can do that from Inchnadampf, much nearer. That is quicker than steaming to Loch Inver.'

'Thank you very much, Mr. Merton; I must be here myself. You had better take the motor--trouble dazes a man--I forgot the motor when I ordered the tandem this morning.'

'Very good,' said Merton. 'At what hour shall I start?'

'We all need rest; let us say at ten o'clock.'

'All right,' replied Merton. 'Now do, pray, try to get a good night of sleep.'

Mr. Macrae smiled wanly: 'I mean to force myself to read _Emma_, by Miss Austen, till the desired effect is produced.'

Merton went to bed, marvelling at the self-command of the millionaire. He himself slept ill, absorbed in regret and darkling conjecture.

After writing out several telegrams for Merton to carry, the smitten victim of enormous opulence sought repose. But how vainly! Between him and the pages which report the prosings of Miss Bates and Mr. Woodhouse intruded visions of his daughter, a captive, perhaps crossing the Atlantic, perhaps hidden, who knew, in a shieling or a cavern in the untrodden wastes of a.s.synt or of Lord Reay's country. At last these appearances were merged in sleep.

III. Logan to the Rescue!

As Merton sped on the motor next day to the nearest telegraph station, with Mr. Macrae's sheaf of despatches, Dr. MacTavish found him a very dull companion. He named the lochs and hills, Quinag, Suilvean, Ben Mor, he dwelt on the merits of the trout in the lochs; he showed the melancholy improvements of the old Duke; he spoke of d.u.c.h.esses and of crofters, of anglers and tourists; he pointed to the ruined castle of the man who sold the great Montrose--or did not sell him. Merton was irresponsive, trying to think. What was this mystery? Why did the wireless machine bring no response from its headquarters; or how could practical jokers have intruded into the secret chambers of Messrs.

Gianesi and Giambresi? These dreams or visions of his own on the night before Miss Macrae was taken--were they wholly due to tobacco and the liver?

'I thought I was awake,' said Merton to himself, 'when I was only dreaming about the crimson blot on the ceiling. Was I asleep when I saw the tartans go down the stairs? I used to walk in my sleep as a boy. It is very queer!'

'Frae the top o' Ben Mor,' the doctor was saying, 'on a fine day, they tell me, with a gla.s.s you can pick up "The Seven Hunters."'

'Eh, what? I beg your pardon, I am so confused by this wretched affair.

What did you say you can pick up?'

'Just "The Seven Hunters,"' said the doctor rather sulkily.

'And what are "The Seven Hunters"?'

'Just seven wee sma' islandies ahint the b.u.t.t of Lewis. The maps ca'

them the Flanan Islands.'

Merton's heart gave a thump. The first message from the Gianesi invention was dated 'The Seven Hunters.' Here was a clue.

'Are the islands inhabited?' asked Merton.

'Just wi' wild goats, and, maybe, fishers drying their fish. And three men in a lighthouse on one of them,' said the doctor.

They now rushed up to the hotel and telegraph office of Inchnadampf. The doctor, after visiting the bar, went on in the motor to Lairg; it was to return for Merton, who had business enough on hand in sending the despatches. He was thinking over 'The Seven Hunters.' It might be, probably was, a blind, or the kidnappers, having touched there, might have departed in any direction--to Iceland, for what he knew. But the name, 'the Seven Hunters,' was not likely to have been invented by a practical joker in London. If not, the conspirators had really captured and kept to themselves Mr. Macrae's line of wireless communications. How could that have been done? Merton bitterly regretted that his general information did not include electrical science.

However, he had first to send the despatches. In one Mr. Macrae informed Gianesi and Giambresi of the condition of their instrument, and bade them send another at once with a skilled operator, and to look out for probable tamperers in their own establishment. This despatch was in a cypher which before he got the new invention, and while he used the old wires, Mr. Macrae had arranged with the electricians. The words of the despatch were, therefore, peculiar, and the Highland la.s.s who operated, a girl of great beauty and modesty, at first declined to transmit the message.

'It's maybe no proper, for a' that I ken,' she urged, and only by invoking a local person of authority, and using the name of Mr. Macrae very freely, could Merton obtain the transmission of the despatch.

In another doc.u.ment Mr. Macrae ordered 'more motors' and a dozen bicycles, as the Nabob of old ordered 'more curricles.' He also telegraphed to the Home Office, the Admiralty, the Hereditary Lord High Admiral of the West Coast, to Messrs. McBrain, of the steamers, and to every one who might have any access to the control of marine police or information. He wired to the police at New York, bidding them warn all American stations, and to the leading New York newspapers, knowing the energy and inquiring, if imaginative, character of their reporters. Bude ought to have done all this on the previous day, but Bude's ideas were limited. Nothing, however, was lost, as America is not reached in forty- eight hours. The millionaire instructed Scotland Yard to warn all foreign ports, and left them _carte-blanche_ as to the offer of a reward for the discovery of his missing daughter. He also put off all the guests whom he had been expecting at Castle Skrae.

Merton was amazed at the energy and intelligence of a paternal mind smitten by sudden grief. Mr. Macrae had even telegraphed to every London newspaper, and to the leading Scottish and provincial journals, 'No Interviewers need Apply.' Several hours were spent, as may be imagined, in getting off these despatches from a Highland rural office, and Merton tried to reward the fair operator. But she declined to accept a present for doing her duty, and expressed lively sympathy for the poor young lady who was lost. In a few days a diamond-studded watch and chain arrived for Miss MacTurk.

Merton himself wired to Logan, imploring him, in the name of friendship, to abandon all engagements, and come to Inchnadampf. Where kidnapping was concerned he knew that Logan must be interested, and might be useful; but, of course, he could not invite him to Castle Skrae. Meanwhile he secured rooms for Logan at the excellent inn. Lady Fastcastle, he knew, was in England, brooding over her first-born, the Master of Fastcastle.

Before these duties were performed the motor returned from Lairg, bearing the two London detectives, one disguised as a gillie (he was the detective who had the Gaelic), the other as a clergyman of the Church of England. To Merton he whispered that he was to be an early friend of Mr.

Macrae, come to comfort him on the first news of his disaster. As to the other, the gillie, Mr. Macrae was known to have been in want of an a.s.sistant to the stalker, and Duncan Mackay (of Scotland Yard) had accepted the situation. Merton approved of these arrangements; they were such as he would himself have suggested.

'But I don't see what we can do, sir,' said the clerical detective (the Rev. Mr. Williams), 'except perhaps find out if it was a put up thing from within.'

Merton gave him a succinct sketch of the events, and he could see that Mr. Williams already suspected Donald Macdonald, the engineer. Merton, Mr. Williams, and the driver now got into the motor, and were followed by the gillie-detective and a man to drive in a dog-cart hired from the inn.

Merton ordered all answers to telegrams to be sent by boys on bicycles.

It was late ere he returned to Castle Skrae. There nothing of importance had occurred, except the arrival of more messages from the wireless machine. They insisted that Miss Macrae was in perfect health, but implored the millionaire to settle instantly, lest anxiety for a father's grief should undermine her const.i.tution.

Mr. Williams had a long interview with Mr. Macrae. It was arranged that he should read family prayers in the morning and evening. He left _The Church Quarterly Review_ and numbers of _The Expositor_, _The Guardian_, and _The Pilot_ in the hall with his great coat, and on the whole his entry was very well staged. Duncan Mackay occupied a room at the keeper's, who had only eight children.

Mr. Williams asked if he might see Mr. Blake; he could impart religious consolation. Merton carried this message, in answer to which Blake, who was in bed very sulky and sleepy, merely replied, 'Kick out the h.e.l.l-hound.'

Merton was obliged to soften this rude message, saying that unfortunately Mr. Blake was of the older faith, though he had expressed no wish for the ministrations of Father McColl.

On hearing this Mr. Williams merely sighed, as the Budes were present. He had been informed as to their tenets, and had even expressed a desire to labour for their enlightenment, by way of giving local colour. He had, he said, some stirring Protestant tracts among his clerical properties.

Mr. Macrae, however, had gently curbed this zeal, so on hearing of Blake's religious beliefs the sigh of Mr. Williams was delicately subdued.

Dinner-time arrived. Blake did not appear; the butler said that he supported existence solely on dried toast and milk and soda-water. He was one of the people who keep a private clinical thermometer, and he sent the bulletin that his temperature was 103. He hoped to come downstairs to-morrow. Mr. Williams gave the party some news of the outer world. He had brought the _Scotsman_, and Mr. Macrae had the gloomy satisfaction of reading a wildly inaccurate report of his misfortune.

Correct news had not reached the press, but deep sympathy was expressed.

The melancholy party soon broke up, Mr. Williams conducting family prayers with much unction, after the Budes had withdrawn.

In a private interview with the millionaire Merton told him how he had discovered the real meaning of 'The Seven Hunters,' whence the first telegram of the kidnappers was dated. Neither man thought the circ.u.mstance very important.

'They would hardly have ventured to name the islands if they had any idea of staying there,' the millionaire said, 'besides any heartless jester could find the name on a map.'

This was obvious, but as Lady Bude was much to be pitied, alone, in the circ.u.mstances, Mr. Macrae determined to send her and Bude on the yacht, the _Flora Macdonald_, to cruise round the b.u.t.t of Lewis and examine the islets. Both Bude and his wife were devoted to yachting, and the isles might yield something in the way of natural history.

Next day (Wednesday) the Budes steamed away, and there came many answers to the telegrams of Mr. Macrae, and one from Logan to Merton. Logan was hard by, cruising with his cousin, Admiral Chirnside, at the naval manoeuvres on the northeast coast. He would come to Inchnadampf at once.

Mr. Macrae heard from Gianesi and Giambresi. Gianesi himself was coming with a fresh machine. Mr. Macrae wished it had been Giambresi, whom he knew; Gianesi he had never met. Condolences, of course, poured in from all quarters, even the most exalted. The Emperor of Germany was most sympathetic. But there was no news of importance. Several yachting parties had been suspected and examined; three young ladies at Oban, Applecross, and Tobermory, had established their ident.i.ty and proved that they were not Miss Macrae.

All day the wireless machine was silent. Mr. Williams was shown all the rooms in the castle, and met Blake, who appeared at luncheon. Blake was most civil. He asked for a private interview with Mr. Macrae, who inquired whether his school friend, Mr. Williams, might share it? Blake was pleased to give them both all the information he had, though his head, he admitted, still rang with the cowardly blow that had stunned him. He was told of the discovery of the burned boat, and was asked whether it had approached from east or west, from the side of the Atlantic, or from the head of the sea loch.

'From Kinlocharty,' he said, 'from the head of the loch, the landward side.' This agreed with the evidence of the villagers on the other side of the sea loch.

Would he recognise the crew? He had only seen them at a certain distance, when they landed, but in spite of the blow on his head he remembered the black beard of one man, and the red beard of another. To be sure they might shave off their beards, yet these two he thought he could identify. Speaking to Miss Macrae as the men pa.s.sed them, he had called one Donald Dubh, or 'black,' and the other Donald Ban, or 'fair.'

They carried heavy shepherds' crooks in their hands. Their dress was Lowland, but they wore unusually broad bonnets of the old sort, drooping over the eyes. Blake knew no more, except his anguish from the midges.