ering words to the day of my death?

"Come, old boy," said Dennis kindly. "You must remember that Olvery is
merely a man. He is only one of the many floundering about among the
mysteries of Nature, trying to throw light upon darkness. You mustn't
imagine that his view is necessarily correct, from whichever point he
looked at the case."

"Thank you for that," I said. "I am afraid I forgot that he might
possibly be mistaken. He says he knows nothing of this case at all; he
can make nothing of it; it is quite beyond him. He is certain that no
such similar case has been brought to the knowledge of optical
science. His view is that there is the remotest possibility that this
green veil may lift, but he says he is sure that if there were any
scientific reason for saying that her sight will be restored he would
be able to detect it."

"I prefer your Dr. Whitehouse to this man any day," said Dennis
emphatically. "He took just the opposite view. This man Olvery, like
so many specialists, is evidently a dogmatic egotist."

"I'm very glad you can give us even that hope. But the eyes are such a
delicate instrument. It is difficult to see how the sight can be
recovered when once it has gone. Of course, Olvery is going to do
what he can. He has suggested certain treatment, and massage, and so
forth, and he has no objection to her going back home again. Myra, of
course, is tremendously anxious for me to take her back to her father.
She is worrying about him already; and, fortunately, Olvery knows
Whitehouse, and has the highest opinion of him."

"Go back as soon as you can, old chap," Dennis advised. "Wire me if
there is anything I can do for you at this end. I'll make some
inquiries, and see if I can find out anything about any similar cases,
and so on. But you take the girl back home if she wants to go."

While we were still talking, Dennis's man, Cooper, entered.

"Telegram for Mr. Ewart, sir," he said.

I took the yellow envelope and opened it carelessly.

"What is it?" cried Dennis, springing to his feet as he saw my face.

"Read it," I said faintly, as I handed it to him. Dennis read the
message aloud:

"Come back at once. I can't stand this. Sholto is blind.--McLEOD."

CHAPTER VI.

CONTAINS A FURTHER ENIGMA.

Back again at King's Cross. I seemed to have been travelling on the
line all my life. Myra turned to Dennis to say good-bye.

"I hope," she said bravely, "that when we meet again, Mr. Burnham, I