swore in Italian.

'First thing, anyhow, to tie him up,' said Logan, producing a serviceable
cord.

Both Logan and Merton were muscular men, and presently had the intruder
tightly swathed in inextricable knots and gagged in a homely but
sufficient fashion.

'Now, Merton,' said Logan, 'this is a bitter disappointment! From your
dream, or vision, of Eachain of the Hairy Arm, it was clear to me that
somebody, the poet for choice, had heard the yarn of the Highland ghost,
and was masquerading in the kilt for the purpose of tampering with the
electric dodge and communicating with the kidnappers. Apparently I owe
the bard an apology. You'll sit on this fellow's chest while I go and
bring Mr. Macrae.'

'A message has come in on the machine,' said Merton.

'Well, he can read it; it is not our affair.'

Logan went off; Merton poured out a glass of Apollinaris water, added a
little whisky, and lit a cigarette. The figure on the floor wriggled;
Merton put the revolver which the man had dropped and Logan's pistol into
a drawer of the writing-table, which he locked.

'I do detest all that cheap revolver business,' said Merton.

The row had awakened Logan's dog, which was howling dolefully in the
neighbouring room.

'Queer situation, eh?' said Merton to the prostrate figure.

Hurrying footsteps climbed the stairs; Mr. Macrae (with a shot-gun) and
Logan entered.

Mr. Macrae all but embraced Merton. 'Had I a son, I could have wished
him to be like you,' he said; 'but my poor boy--' his voice broke. Merton
had not known before that the millionaire had lost a son. He did
understand, however, that the judicious Logan had given _him_ the whole
credit of the exploit, for reasons too obvious to Merton.

'Don't thank _me_,' he was saying, when Logan interrupted:

'Don't you think, Mr. Macrae, you had better examine the message that has
just come in?'

Mr. Macrae read, 'Glad they found the hair-pin, it will console the old
boy. Do not quite see how to communicate, if Gianesi, who, you say, has
arrived, removes the machine.'

'Look here,' cried Merton, 'excuse my offering advice, but we ought, I
think, to send for Donald Macdonald _at once_. We must flash back a
message to those brutes, so they may think they are still in
communication with the traitor in our camp. That beast on the floor
could work it, of course, but he would only warn _them_; we can't check
him. We must use Donald, and keep them thinking that th