'With or without Lord Fastcastle, you _must do it_!' said Lady Bude.
They saw Mr. Macrae approaching them deep in thought and advanced to meet
him.
'Mr. Macrae,' asked Lady Bude suddenly, 'have you had Donald with you
long?'
'Ever since he was a lad in Canada,' answered the millionaire. 'I have
every confidence in Donald's ability, and he was for half a year with
Gianesi and Giambresi, learning to work their system.'
Donald's honesty, it was clear, he never dreamed of suspecting. Merton
blushed, as he remembered that a doubt as to whether the engineer had
been 'got at' had occurred to his own mind. For a heavy bribe (Merton
had fancied) Donald might have been induced, perhaps by some Stock
Exchange operator, to tamper with the wireless centre of communication.
But, from Mr. Macrae's perfect confidence, he felt obliged to drop this
attractive hypothesis.
They dined at the usual hour, and not long after dinner Lady Bude said
good-night, while her lord, who was very tired, soon followed her
example. Merton and the millionaire paid a visit to Blake, whom they
found asleep, and the doctor, having taken supper and accepted an
invitation to stay all night, joined the two other men in the smoking-
room. In answer to inquiries about the patient, Dr. MacTavish said,
'It's jist concussion, slight concussion, and nervous shoke. No that
muckle the maiter wi' him but a clour on the hairnspan, and midge bites,
forbye the disagreeableness o' being clamped doon for a wheen hours in a
wat tussock o' bracken.'
This diagnosis, though not perfectly intelligible to Merton, seemed to
reassure Mr. Macrae.
'He's a bit concetty, the chiel,' added the worthy physician, 'and it may
be a day or twa or he judges he can leave his bed. Jist nervous
collapse. But, bless my soul, what's thon?'
'Thon' had brought Mr. Macrae to his feet with a bound. It was the
thrill of the electric bell which preluded to communications from the
wireless communicator! The instrument began to tick, and to emit its
inscribed tape.
'Thank heaven,' cried the millionaire, 'now we shall have light on this
mystery.' He read the message, stamped his foot with an awful
execration, and then, recovering himself, handed the document to Merton.
'The message is a disgusting practical joke,' he said. 'Some one at the
central agency is playing tricks with the instrument.'
'Am I to read the message aloud?' asked Merton.
It was rather a difficult question, for the doctor was a perfect stranger
to all present, and the matters involved were of an intimate delicacy,
affecting the most sacred domestic relations.
'Dr. MacTavish,' said Mr. Macrae, 'speaking as Highlander to Highlander,
these are circumstances, are they not, under the seal of professional
confidence?'
The big doctor rose to his feet.
'They are, sir, but, Mr. Macrae, I am a married man. This sad business
of yours, I say it with sorrow, will be the talk of the world to-morrow,
as it is of the country side to-day. If you will excuse me, I would
rather know nothing, and be able to tell nothing, so I'll take my pipe
outside with me.'
'Not alone, don't go alone, Dr. MacTavish,' said Merton; 'Mr. Macrae will
need his telegraphic operator probably. Let me play you a hundred up at
billiards.'
The doctor liked nothing better; soon the balls were rattling, while the
millionaire was closeted alone with Donald Macdonald and the wireless
thing.
After one game, of which he was the winner, the doctor, with much
delicacy, asked leave to go to bed. Merton conducted him to his room,
and, returning, was hailed by Mr. Macrae.
'Here is the pleasant result of our communications,' he said, reading
aloud the message which he had first received.
'The Seven Hunters. August 9, 7.47 p.m.
'Do not be anxious about Miss Macrae. She is in perfect health, and
accompanied by three chaperons accustomed to move in the first
circles. The one question is How Much? Sorry to be abrupt, but the
sooner the affair is satisfactorily concluded the better. A reply
through your Gianesi machine will reach us, and will meet with prompt
attention.'
'A practical joke,' said Merton. 'The melancholy news has reached town
through Bude's telegrams, and somebody at the depot is playing tricks
with the instrument.'
'I have used the instrument to communicate that opinion to the
manufacturers,' said Mr. Macrae, 'but I have had no reply.'
'What does the jester mean by heading his communication "The Seven
Hunters"?' asked Merton.
'The name of a real or imaginary public-house, I suppose,' said Mr.
Macrae.
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 nobody 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 Assynt or of Lord Reay's country. At last these
appearances were merged in sleep.