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 appet.i.te, 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?"

"Right first time," he admitted, evidently pleased to see his work admired. I thought of Garnesk's suspicion that our American friend was engaged on detective work of some kind, and it struck me that with his camera and his obvious talent he had an excellent excuse for going almost anywhere, supposing he were called upon at any time to explain his presence in some outlandish spot.

"You must have kept yourself exceedingly busy," I remarked in conclusion.

After the meal we adjourned to the hut above the falls. Hilderman certainly had some right to be proud of his view. It was magnificent.

We stood outside the door and gazed out to sea, north, south and west, for some minutes.

"You have the same uninterrupted view from inside," said Hilderman, as we mounted the three steps to the door. He held the door open, and I stepped in first, followed by Dennis and Fuller. The window extended the whole length of the room, and folded inwards and upwards, in the same way as some greenhouse windows do. Suddenly I laughed aloud.

"What's the joke?" asked Hilderman.

"This," I said, pointing to a large carbon transparency of a mountain under snow, which hung in the window on the north side. "You've no idea how this has been annoying us over at Invermalluch."

"How?" asked Dennis.

"It swings about in the breeze," I replied, "and it reflects the light and catches everybody's eye. It's a very beautiful photograph, Mr.

Hilderman, but, like many human beings, it's exceedingly unpopular owing to the position it holds."

"A thousand apologies, Mr. Ewart," said the American. "It shall be removed at once."

"Oh, not at all!" I protested. "Surely you are ent.i.tled to hang a positive of a photograph in your window without receiving a protest from neighbours who live nearly three miles away."

"That's Invermalluch Lodge, then, across the water," Dennis asked.

"Yes," I replied, and we forgot about the transparency, which remained in undisputed possession of a pitch to which it was certainly ent.i.tled. We sat and smoked, and looked out at the mountains of Skye and the wonderful panorama of sea and loch, with an occasional glance at the gurgling waterfall at our feet, and presently I picked up a copy of an ill.u.s.trated paper which was lying at my hand. I turned the pages idly, and threw a cursory glance at the photographs of the week's brides, and the latest efforts of the theatrical press agents, and I noticed, without thinking anything of the fact, that one page had been roughly torn out. I was about to remark that probably the most interesting or amusing picture in the whole paper had been accidentally destroyed, when Fuller leaned across Dennis, and took the paper out of my hands.

"Don't insult Mr. Hilderman's precious view by reading the paper in his smoking-room, Mr Ewart," he said, with a loud laugh. "As a Highlander you should have more tact than that."

Hilderman turned round, and looked from one to other of us.

"What paper is he reading? I didn't know there was one here."

I explained what paper it was, adding, "I quite admit that it was a waste of time when I ought to be admiring your unrivalled view, Mr.

Hilderman. I offer you my sincere apologies."

Hilderman threw a quick glance at Mr. Fuller.

"Better give it him back, Fuller," he said. "There is nothing more annoying than to have a paper s.n.a.t.c.hed away from you when you're half-way through it."

Shortly after that Fuller declared that he must be leaving, and asked Hilderman rather pointedly whether he felt like a trip to Loch Duich.

I determined to step in with an idea of my own.

"I was going to make a suggestion myself, Mr. Hilderman," I began, "but it doesn't matter if you are engaged."

"Well, I don't know that I'm particularly keen to come with you this afternoon, Fuller," he remarked. "What was your suggestion, Mr.

Ewart?"

"I was wondering whether you would come over to Invermalluch with Burnham and me and--er--have a look round with us?"

"Well, if Fuller doesn't think it exceedingly rude of me, I should like to," the American replied, "especially as Mr. Burnham will be leaving you to-morrow, or the day after at latest."

"Incidentally, I don't know how we shall get back without you," I pointed out. "You see, we sent the motor-boat on."

"By Jove, so you did!" Hilderman exclaimed. "Well, that settles it, Fuller."

"I could take them on the _Fiona_ and put them ash.o.r.e," his companion persisted. Hilderman gave Fuller a look which seemed to clinch the matter, however, for the little man beamed at me through his spectacles, and explained that if he took us in his yacht it would be killing two birds with one stone.

"Still, of course, my dear fellow," he concluded, "you must please yourselves entirely."

So we saw him safely on board the _Fiona_, and then started for Invermalluch in Hilderman's magnificent Wolseley launch.

"Fuller knows me," he explained, by way of apology. "I go up with him sometimes as often as three times a week, but I gathered that you asked me with a view to discussing the mystery of the green flash, or whatever you call it."

"You're quite right; I did," I replied. "I simply want you to come and have a look at the river, and see what you can make of it."

"Anything I can do, you know, Mr. Ewart," he a.s.sured me, "I shall be delighted to do. If you think it will be of any a.s.sistance to you if I explore the river with you--well, I'm ready now."