s head."

Accordingly I dashed off to Mallaig again, and caught the evening
train to Glasgow. I spent an unhappy night at the Central Station
Hotel--though it was certainly not the fault of the hotel--and looked
up Mr. Garnesk as early in the morning as I dared disturb a celebrated
consultant oculist. I took a fancy to the man at once. He was
young--in the early 'forties--very alert-looking, and exceedingly
businesslike. His prematurely grey hair gave an added air of
importance to the clever eye and clean-cut features, and he had a
charm of manner which would have made his fortune had he been almost
ignorant of the rudiments of his calling.

"So that's the complete story of Miss McLeod and her dog Sholto," he
mused, when I had finished speaking. For a brief second I thought he
was about to laugh at the apparent absurdity of the yarn, but before I
had time to answer he spoke again.

"Miss McLeod and her dog are apparently blind, and Mr. Ewart is a
bundle of nerves--and this is very excellent brandy, Mr. Ewart. Allow
me."

I accepted the proffered glass with a laugh, in spite of myself.

"What do you think of it?" I asked.

He sat on the edge of the table and swung his leg, wrapt in thought
for a moment.

"I'm very glad to say I don't know what to think of it," he replied
presently.

"Why glad?" I asked anxiously.

"Because, my dear sir, this is so remarkable that if I thought I could
see a solution I should probably be making a mistake. This is
something I am learning about for the first time; and, frankly, it
interests me intensely."

Suddenly he sat down abruptly, with a muttered "Now, then," and began
to catechise me in a most extraordinarily searching manner, firing off
question after question with the rapidity of a maxim gun.

I shall not detain the reader with details of this catechism. His
inquiries ranged from the system on which the house was lighted and
the number of hours Myra averaged per week on the sea to the make of
the engine in her motor-boat. His last question was: "Does anybody
drink the river water?"

"Windows that flash in the sun seem to me to be confusing the issue,"
he said at last. "Windows must always reflect light in a certain
direction at a certain time, and though they may be irritating they
could not possibly produce even temporary blindness. Still, we won't
forget them, Mr. Ewart, though we had better put them aside for a
moment. Now, how soon can you bring Miss McLeod to s