time to time it seemed to the
visitor that all of a sudden the table, with its white cloth, glittering
glass and plate, began to rise up, taking him with it, and repeating the
movements of the steamer where they caught the Atlantic swell. Then it
subsided, and, as a peculiar giddy feeling passed off, the table seemed
to move again; this time with a quick jerk, similar to that given by
Kenneth's boat.

Max set his teeth; a cold perspiration broke out upon his forehead, and
he held his knife and fork as if they were the handles to which he must
cling to save himself from falling.

He was suspended between two horrors, two ideas troubling him. Would
his host see his state, and should he be obliged to leave the table?

And all the while the conversation went on between father and son, and
he had to reply to questions put to him. Then, as the table rose and
heaved, and the room began to swing gently round, a fierce-looking eye
seemed to be glancing at him out of a mist, and he knew that the butler
was watching him in an angry, scornful manner that made him shrink.

He had some recollection afterwards of the dinner ending, and of their
going into a handsome drawing-room, where The Mackhai left them, as
Kenneth said, to go and smoke in his own room. Then Max remembered
something about a game of chess, and then of starting up and oversetting
the table, with the pieces rattling on the floor.

"What--what--what's the matter?" he exclaimed as he clapped his hand to
his leg, which was tingling with pain.

"What's the matter? why, you were asleep again. Never did see such a
sleepy fellow. Here, let's go to bed."

"I beg your pardon; I'm very sorry, but I was travelling all last
night."

"Oh, I don't mind," said Kenneth, yawning. "Come along."

"We must say good-night to your father."

"Oh no! he won't like to be disturbed. He's in some trouble. I think
it's about money he has been losing, and it makes him cross."

Kenneth led the way up-stairs, chattering away the while, and making all
manner of plans for the morning.

"Here you are," he cried. "You'd like a bath in the morning?"

"Oh yes, I always have one."

"All right. I'll call you."

As soon as he was alone, Max went to the window and opened it, to admit
the odour of the salt weed and the thud and rush of the water as it beat
against the foot of the castle and whispered amongst the crags. The
moon was just setting, and shedding a lurid yellow light