Merton, 'Logan and I have made a terrible
blunder! We never doubted that, if we caught any one, our captive would
be Blake. I do not deny that this man is his accomplice, but we have
literally no proof. He may persist, if taken before a magistrate, that
he is Gianesi. He may say that, being in your employment as an
electrician, he naturally entered the smoking-room when the electric bell
rang. He can easily account for his possession of a revolver, in a place
where a mysterious crime has just been committed. As to the Highland
costume, he may urge that, like many Southrons, he had bought it to wear
on a Highland tour, and was trying it on. How can you keep him? You
have no longer the right of Pit and Gallows. Before what magistrate can
you take him, and where? The sheriff-substitute may be at Golspie, or
Tongue, or Dingwall, or I don't know where. What can we do? What have
we against the man? "Loitering with intent"? And here Logan and I have
knocked him down, and tied him up, and Logan wanted to torture him.'

'Dear Mr. Merton,' replied Mr. Macrae, with paternal tenderness, 'you are
overwrought. You have not slept all night. I must insist that you go to
bed, and do not rise till you are called. The man is certainly guilty of
conspiracy, that will be proved when the real Gianesi comes to hand. If
not, I do not doubt that I can secure his silence. You forget the power
of money. Make yourself easy, go to sleep; meanwhile I must re-establish
communications. Good-night, golden slumbers!'

He wrung Merton's hand, and left him admiring the calm resolution of one
whose conversation, 'in the mad pride of intellectuality,' he had
recently despised. The millionaire, Merton felt, was worthy to be his
daughter's father.

'The power of money!' mused Mr. Macrae; 'what is it in circumstances like
mine? Surrounded by all the resources of science, I am baffled by a
clever rogue and in a civilised country the aid of the law and the police
is as remote and inaccessible as in the Great Sahara! But to business!'

He sent for Benson, bade him, with some gillies, carry the prisoner into
the dungeon of the old castle, loose his bonds, place food before him,
and leave him in charge of the stalker. He informed Bude that breakfast
would be ready at eight, and then retired to his study, where he matured
his plans.

The yacht he would send to Lochinver to await the real Gianesi there, and
to send telegrams descriptive o