ing a rag of some sort. Dobson at the moment was
engaged with a bottle of porter, and Heritage could safely wave a hand
in reply. He could now make out clearly the red head of Dougal.

The Chieftain, having located the three watchers, proceeded to give an
exhibition of his prowess for the benefit of the lonely inmate of the
Tower. Using as cover a drift of bracken, he wormed his way down till
he was not six yards from Dobson, and Heritage had the privilege of
seeing his grinning countenance a very little way above the innkeeper's
head. Then he crawled back and reached the neighbourhood of Leon, who
was sitting on a fallen Scotch fir. At that moment it occurred to the
Belgian to visit Dobson. Heritage's breath stopped, but Dougal was
ready, and froze into a motionless blur in the shadow of a hazel bush.
Then he crawled very fast into the hollow where Leon had been sitting,
seized something which looked like a bottle, and scrambled back to the
ridge. At the top he waved the object, whatever it was, but Heritage
could not reply, for Dobson happened to be looking towards the window.
That was the last he saw of the Chieftain, but presently he realized
what was the booty he had annexed. It must be Leon's life-preserver,
which the night before had broken Heritage's head.

After that cheering episode boredom again set in. He collected some
food from the Mearns Street box, and indulged himself with a glass of
liqueur brandy. He was beginning to feel miserably cold, so he carried
up some broken wood and made a fire on the immense hearth in the upper
chamber. Anxiety was clouding his mind again, for it was now two
o'clock, and there was no sign of the reinforcements which Dickson and
the Princess had gone to find. The minutes passed, and soon it was
three o'clock, and from the window he saw only the top of the gaunt
shuttered House, now and then hidden by squalls of sleet, and Dobson
squatted like an Eskimo, and trees dancing like a witch-wood in the
gale. All the vigour of the morning seemed to have gone out of his
blood; he felt lonely and apprehensive and puzzled. He wished he had
Dickson beside him, for that little man's cheerful voice and complacent
triviality would be a comfort.... Also, he was abominably cold. He put
on his waterproof, and turned his attention to the fire. It needed
re-kindling, and he hunted in his pockets for paper, finding only the
slim volume lettered WHORLS.

I set it down as the most sig