it reflects the light
and catches everybody's eye. It's a very beautiful photograph, Mr.
Hilderman, but, like many human beings, it's exceedingly unpopular
owing to the position it holds."

"A thousand apologies, Mr. Ewart," said the American. "It shall be
removed at once."

"Oh, not at all!" I protested. "Surely you are entitled to hang a
positive of a photograph in your window without receiving a protest
from neighbours who live nearly three miles away."

"That's Invermalluch Lodge, then, across the water," Dennis asked.

"Yes," I replied, and we forgot about the transparency, which remained
in undisputed possession of a pitch to which it was certainly
entitled. We sat and smoked, and looked out at the mountains of Skye
and the wonderful panorama of sea and loch, with an occasional glance
at the gurgling waterfall at our feet, and presently I picked up a
copy of an illustrated paper which was lying at my hand. I turned the
pages idly, and threw a cursory glance at the photographs of the
week's brides, and the latest efforts of the theatrical press agents,
and I noticed, without thinking anything of the fact, that one page
had been roughly torn out. I was about to remark that probably the
most interesting or amusing picture in the whole paper had been
accidentally destroyed, when Fuller leaned across Dennis, and took the
paper out of my hands.

"Don't insult Mr. Hilderman's precious view by reading the paper in
his smoking-room, Mr Ewart," he said, with a loud laugh. "As a
Highlander you should have more tact than that."

Hilderman turned round, and looked from one to other of us.

"What paper is he reading? I didn't know there was one here."

I explained what paper it was, adding, "I quite admit that it was a
waste of time when I ought to be admiring your unrivalled view, Mr.
Hilderman. I offer you my sincere apologies."

Hilderman threw a quick glance at Mr. Fuller.

"Better give it him back, Fuller," he said. "There is nothing more
annoying than to have a paper snatched away from you when you're
half-way through it."

Shortly after that Fuller declared that he must be leaving, and asked
Hilderman rather pointedly whether he felt like a trip to Loch Duich.
I determined to step in with an idea of my own.

"I was going to make a suggestion myself, Mr. Hilderman," I began,
"but it doesn't matter if you are engaged."

"Well, I don't know that I'm particularly keen to come with you this
afternoon, Fuller,