The Mystery of the Green Ray by William le Queux (best ereader for comics TXT) 📖

am, and as fit as a fiddle.”

“That’s great!” I exclaimed cheerily, for Dennis’s bright attitude had exactly the effect on me that it was intended to have—it made me feel about twenty years younger. “This is Mr. Garnesk, the specialist, who very kindly came from Glasgow to see Myra. Mr. Garnesk—Mr. Burnham.”

The two shook hands, and the oculist suggested lunch. We left the station to go up to the hotel, but we saw Hilderman and his newly arrived friend—the same man who had seen me taking Myra up to London—walking leisurely up the hill in front of us. Garnesk took my arm.

“Steady, my boy, steady,” he said quietly. “We don’t want to be overheard giving the lie to your dainty conversation of a few minutes ago. Isn’t there anywhere else we can lunch, because they are evidently on the same tack?”

“Yes,” I replied, turning back, “there’s the Marine just behind you. That’ll do us well. Then we can come out and talk freely where there’s no chance of our being overheard.”

So we lunched at the Marine Hotel, after which we strolled round the harbour, along the most appalling “road” in the history of civilisation, popularly and well named “the Kyber.” Safely out of earshot, I made a hurried mental précis of the events of the past few days, and gave Dennis the resultant summary as tersely as I could.

“I’m very glad you had Mr. Garnesk with you,” said Dennis at last, with a glance of frank admiration at the young specialist.

“Not so glad as I am,” I replied fervently. “What I should have done without him heaven only knows. I can’t even guess.”

“Oh, nonsense!” cried Garnesk, in modest protest. “I haven’t been able to do anything. Our one advance was a piece of pure luck—the discovery that Miss McLeod could see by the light of a red lamp. We have decided to keep that quite to ourselves, Mr. Burnham.”

“Of course,” agreed Dennis, so emphatically that I laughed.

“Why so decided, Den?” I asked, for I felt that I should like to climb to the topmost pinnacle of the highest peak in all the world and shout the good news to the four corners of the earth.

“I’m not a scientist, Ron,” Dennis replied. “That may account for the heresy of my profound disbelief in science. I wouldn’t cross the road to see a ‘miracle.’ The twentieth century is uncongenial to anything of that sort. Take it from me, old chap, there’s a man at the back of this—not a nice man, I admit, but an ordinary human being to all outward appearances—and when we catch a glimpse of his outward appearances we shall know what to do.”

“Yes, when we do,” I sighed.

“You mustn’t let Ewart get depressed about things, Mr. Burnham. He very naturally looks at this business from a different standpoint. With him it is a tragic, mysterious horror, which threatens the well-being, if not the existence, of a life that is dearer to him than his own.”

“I’ll look after him,” said Dennis, with a grim determination which made even Garnesk laugh.

“When you two precious people have finished nursing me,” I said, “I hope you’ll allow me to point out that that very reason gives me a prior claim to take any risks or run into any dangers that may crop up from now on. If there is any trouble brewing, particularly dangerous trouble, then it is my place to tackle it. I am deeply grateful to you fellows for all you have done and are doing and intend to do, but the nursing comes from the other side. I can’t let you run risks in a cause which is more mine in the nature of things than yours.”

“I fancy,” said Dennis, “that even your eloquent speeches will have very little effect when it comes to real trouble. If danger comes it’ll come suddenly, and we shall be best helping our common cause by looking after ourselves.”

“Hear, hear,” said Garnesk, and I could only mutter my thanks and my gratitude for the possession of two staunch friends.

“To get back to business,” I said presently, “why did you want me to bluff Hilderman like that?”

“Because,” said Garnesk slowly, “I’m not sure that Hilderman is the man to take into our confidence too completely. It’s not that I don’t trust the man, but he looks so alert and so cute, and has such a dreamy way of pretending he isn’t listening to you when you know jolly well that he is, that I have a feeling we ought to be careful with him.”

“Very much what Dennis said about him the first time he saw him. But if you don’t suspect him, and he is a very cute man, why not trust him and have the benefit of his intelligence?”

“How would you answer that question yourself, Ewart?” the specialist asked quietly.

“Oh,” I laughed, “I should point out that his cuteness may be the very reason that we don’t suspect him.”

“Precisely,” Garnesk agreed; “and that is partly my answer as well.”

“And the other part?” put in Dennis quietly.

“Well, it’s a difficult thing to say, and it’s all conjecture. But I have a feeling that Hilderman is not what he says he is. He has a knack of doing things, a way of going about here, that gives me the impression he is employing his intelligence, and a very fine intelligence it probably is, all the time. I don’t think he is retired at all. There’s a restless energy about the fellow that would turn into a sour discontent if his mind were not fully occupied with work which it is accustomed to, and probably enjoys doing.”

“Have you anything to suggest?” I asked.

“I have an idea,” he replied; “but I haven’t mentioned it because it doesn’t satisfy me at all. I have an idea that the man is some sort of detective hard at work all the time. But I can’t imagine what sort of detective would take a house up here and keep himself as busy as Hilderman appears to be over some case in the neighbourhood. I can’t imagine what sort of case it can be.”

“What about a secret German naval base in the Hebrides?” I suggested. “It’s not by any means impossible or even unlikely that the Germans have utilised the lonely lochs and creeks to some sinister purpose. Many of the lochs are entirely hidden by surrounding mountains, which come right down to the edge of a narrow opening, and make the place almost unnoticeable unless you happen to be looking for it.”

“There’s something in that, certainly,” Garnesk agreed; “but we must remember he’s been here since May. Surely our precious Government would have managed to find what they wanted, and clear it out by this time. Then again, did they suspect the base, or did they have a general idea that war was coming so far back as May?”

“As to the war,” Dennis put in, “we don’t really know when the authorities had their first suspicions.”

“No,” said I; “but I fancy it was not a very definite suspicion until after the Archduke was assassinated. But look here, Garnesk, just let us suppose Hilderman really is a Government detective in the guise of an American visitor. Wouldn’t he be just about the man we want, or do you think it would make too much stir to take him into our confidence?”

“Far too much,” Garnesk replied emphatically. “It’s not that he would talk; but if he has been here all this time his opponents have got wind of him long before this, and his arrival on the scene in connection with our case would give any suspicious character the tip to bolt. I should advise keeping in touch with Hilderman, learn as much as you can about him, and be ready to run to him for help if you come to the conclusion that he is the man to give it.”

We sat down among the heather at the foot of the Mallaig Vec road, and looked out over the harbour.

“Don’t turn your heads,” said Dennis quietly, “but glance down at the pier.”

“Yes,” said Garnesk in a moment, “he seems to be as interested in us as we are in him.”

Hilderman and his friend were standing on the end of the pier watching us through their field-glasses.

CHAPTER XIII. THE RED-HAIRED MAN.

“I’ll send the glasses at once,” said Garnesk, as the train steamed out of the station. Dennis and I stood on the platform and watched him out of sight.

“He seems a good fellow,” said Dennis.

“Splendid!” I agreed readily. “He’s exceeding clever and wide-awake, and very charming. What we should have done without him heaven only knows. I fancy his visit saved the entire household from a nervous collapse.”

“We’ve no time for collapses, nervous or otherwise,” Dennis replied. “We shall want our wits about us, and we shall need all the vitality we can muster. But at the same time I don’t think there is any cause for nerves. You’re not the sort of man, Ron, to let your nerves get the better of you in an emergency, especially if we can prove that our enemy is a tangible quantity, and not a conglomeration of waves and vibrations.”

“Hilderman and his friend appear to be waiting for us,” I interrupted.

“You may as well introduce me,” said Dennis. “I’d like to meet the man. Who is his friend, do you know?”

“Haven’t the remotest idea,” I replied. “I have seen him once before, but that is all. I don’t know who he is.”

“Is he staying with Hilderman, or does he live in the neighbourhood?”

“That I couldn’t tell you either,” I said. “I’m sure he doesn’t live anywhere near Invermalluch.”

As we strolled out of the station Hilderman and his companion were standing chatting by the gate which leads on to the pier. As we approached, Hilderman turned to me with a smile.

“Ah, Mr. Ewart,” he exclaimed, “your friend has left you, then. I hope you won’t let his inability to help Miss McLeod depress you unduly. While there’s life there’s hope.”

“I shall not give up hope yet awhile, anyway,” I answered heartily.

“May I introduce my friend Mr. Fuller?” he asked presently, and I found myself shaking hands with the round-faced little man, who blinked at me pleasantly through his glasses. I returned the compliment by introducing Dennis.

“On holiday, Mr. Burnham?” asked the American. Dennis was so prompt with his reply that I was convinced he had been thinking it out in the meanwhile.

“Well, I hardly know that I should call it a holiday,” he replied immediately. “I have just run up to say good-bye to Ewart before offering my services to my King and country. We had intended to join up together, but he has, as you know, been detained for the time being, so I am off by myself.”

“We are very old friends,” I explained, “and Burnham very decently decided to come here to see me as I was unable to go south to see him.”

“Never mind, Mr. Ewart,” said Hilderman. “I guess you’ll be able to join him very soon. I wish you luck, Mr. Burnham. I suppose it won’t be long before you leave.”

“He’s talking of returning to-morrow,” I cut in. “I wish you’d tell him it’s ridiculous, Mr. Hilderman. Fancy coming all this way for twenty-four hours. He must have a look round, to say nothing of his stinginess in depriving me of his company so soon.”

“Well, I can quite understand Mr. Burnham’s anxiety to join at the earliest possible moment,” he answered. “But I’ve no doubt Lord Kitchener wouldn’t miss him for a day. I think he might multiply his visit by two, and stop till Wednesday, at any rate. Ah, here’s the Fiona!”

I looked out to the mouth of the harbour, and saw the steam yacht, which was