he said presently. "The rock came to me."

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, suddenly brought to my senses by the
sound of his voice. "What an extraordinary thing!"

"For a moment I thought I was mad, and sometimes, when I have thought
over it since--and the Lord knows how many times I've done that--I've
come to the conclusion that I must have fallen asleep. But even now
the fear haunts me that my mind may be going."

"You mustn't imagine anything like that, General," I advised
seriously. "Whatever you do, don't encourage any doubts of your own
sanity. There must be some explanation of this, although I can't for
the moment imagine what it can possibly be. It is a remarkable thing,
and I fancy you will find, when we do know the explanation, that
anyone else standing where you were at that time would have seen
exactly the same thing. The rock stands out of the water; it is just
above a deep pool, and probably it was a sort of mirage effect, and
not by any means a figment of your brain."

To my surprise the old man leaned back in his chair and burst out
laughing.

"Of course," he exclaimed. "I never thought of that--a sort of mirage.
Well, I'm begad thankful you suggested that, Ronald. I've no doubt
that it was something of the sort. What a begad old fool I am. Let us
pray that our poor little girl's trouble," he added solemnly, "will
have some equally simple solution."

The General was so relieved that I had given him, at any rate, some
sort of reason to believe that his brain was not yet going, that he
began to declare that he was convinced Myra would be better in a day
or two. So we arranged that I should take her up to London the next
day, and leave her in charge of her aunt, Lady Ruslit, and then, as
soon as we had heard Sir Gaire's verdict, I was to bring her back
again. General McLeod had been anxious at first to come with us, but I
pointed out that he would be of more use to Myra if he stayed behind,
and kept an eye on her interests in the neighbourhood. I promised to
wire him the result of the interview with Olvery as soon as I knew it.
And just about a quarter to ten we went to bed.

"Ronald," said the old man, as we shook hands outside my door,
"there's just one thing I wasn't frank with you about in the matter of
the Chemist's Rock. I am anxious to believe that it's a point of no
particular importance. You know the rock is a sort of sandstone, not
grey like the rest, but nearly white?"

"Yes," I answered,