nzie, "and he has already asked for an estimate
for fifty thousand of them."

"Whatever for?" Myra exclaimed.

"I couldn't say at all, but Mr. Garnesk probably has it all mapped
out. He always knows what he's about."

A couple of hours later McKenzie left for Glenelg, with ample time to
catch his boat, and the others sat down to lunch. Myra was delighted
that she could see, even though everything was red. Just as they had
finished lunch a telegram was delivered to Dennis. It was handed in at
Mallaig, and it read: "Don't worry about me. May be away for a few
days.--EWART."

"Oh, good!" exclaimed Dennis. "A wire from Ron. He's all right. 'Don't
worry about me. May be away for a few days.' Sent from Mallaig. He may
have got something he feels he must tell Garnesk about, and has gone
to Glasgow."

"I expect that's it," Myra agreed. "I'm glad he's wired. I do hope
he'll write from wherever he is to-night. Do you think I shall get a
letter in the morning?"

"Certain to," Dennis vowed, laying the telegram on the mantelpiece.
"He's sure to write, however busy he is."

Though Myra was disappointed that there was no personal message for
her, she tried to believe that everything was all right. Dennis went
on what he called coastguard duty, and watched the sea and shores with
the untiring loyalty of a faithful dog. That night, after dinner, he
went out to keep an eye on things, and left Myra with her father. She
has told me since that she felt miserable that I had not wired to her,
and went to fetch my telegram in order to get what comfort she could
from my message to Dennis. She held the telegram under the light, and
read it through. The words were: "May be away for a few days.--EWART."
She made out the faint pencil writing slowly through the red glass.
She read it twice through, and then suddenly collapsed into an
armchair in the horror of swift realisation. "Ewart!" she whispered,
"Ewart! He would never sign a telegram to Mr. Burnham in that way. If
Ronnie didn't send that wire, who did?"

In a moment she jumped to her feet. She must act, and act quickly.

She ran into the den, and picked up the revolver and cartridges which
Garnesk had sent, and which she had put carefully away until I should
come and claim them. She loaded the revolver, and tucked it in the
pocket of the Burberry coat which she slipped on in the hall. Then she
tore down to the landing-stage, and made straight for Glasnabinnie in
the _Jenny Spinner_