Part 59 (2/2)

'Mr. Macrae,' asked Lady Bude suddenly, 'have you had Donald with you long?'

'Ever since he was a lad in Canada,' answered the millionaire. 'I have every confidence in Donald's ability, and he was for half a year with Gianesi and Giambresi, learning to work their system.'

Donald's honesty, it was clear, he never dreamed of suspecting. Merton blushed, as he remembered that a doubt as to whether the engineer had been 'got at' had occurred to his own mind. For a heavy bribe (Merton had fancied) Donald might have been induced, perhaps by some Stock Exchange operator, to tamper with the wireless centre of communication.

But, from Mr. Macrae's perfect confidence, he felt obliged to drop this attractive hypothesis.

They dined at the usual hour, and not long after dinner Lady Bude said good-night, while her lord, who was very tired, soon followed her example. Merton and the millionaire paid a visit to Blake, whom they found asleep, and the doctor, having taken supper and accepted an invitation to stay all night, joined the two other men in the smoking- room. In answer to inquiries about the patient, Dr. MacTavish said, 'It's jist concussion, slight concussion, and nervous shoke. No that muckle the maiter wi' him but a clour on the hairnspan, and midge bites, forbye the disagreeableness o' being clamped doon for a wheen hours in a wat tussock o' bracken.'

This diagnosis, though not perfectly intelligible to Merton, seemed to rea.s.sure Mr. Macrae.

'He's a bit concetty, the chiel,' added the worthy physician, 'and it may be a day or twa or he judges he can leave his bed. Jist nervous collapse. But, bless my soul, what's thon?'

'Thon' had brought Mr. Macrae to his feet with a bound. It was the thrill of the electric bell which preluded to communications from the wireless communicator! The instrument began to tick, and to emit its inscribed tape.

'Thank heaven,' cried the millionaire, 'now we shall have light on this mystery.' He read the message, stamped his foot with an awful execration, and then, recovering himself, handed the doc.u.ment to Merton.

'The message is a disgusting practical joke,' he said. 'Some one at the central agency is playing tricks with the instrument.'

'Am I to read the message aloud?' asked Merton.

It was rather a difficult question, for the doctor was a perfect stranger to all present, and the matters involved were of an intimate delicacy, affecting the most sacred domestic relations.

'Dr. MacTavish,' said Mr. Macrae, 'speaking as Highlander to Highlander, these are circ.u.mstances, are they not, under the seal of professional confidence?'

The big doctor rose to his feet.

'They are, sir, but, Mr. Macrae, I am a married man. This sad business of yours, I say it with sorrow, will be the talk of the world to-morrow, as it is of the country side to-day. If you will excuse me, I would rather know nothing, and be able to tell nothing, so I'll take my pipe outside with me.'

'Not alone, don't go alone, Dr. MacTavish,' said Merton; 'Mr. Macrae will need his telegraphic operator probably. Let me play you a hundred up at billiards.'

The doctor liked nothing better; soon the b.a.l.l.s were rattling, while the millionaire was closeted alone with Donald Macdonald and the wireless thing.

After one game, of which he was the winner, the doctor, with much delicacy, asked leave to go to bed. Merton conducted him to his room, and, returning, was hailed by Mr. Macrae.

'Here is the pleasant result of our communications,' he said, reading aloud the message which he had first received.

'The Seven Hunters. August 9, 7.47 p.m.

'Do not be anxious about Miss Macrae. She is in perfect health, and accompanied by three chaperons accustomed to move in the first circles. The one question is How Much? Sorry to be abrupt, but the sooner the affair is satisfactorily concluded the better. A reply through your Gianesi machine will reach us, and will meet with prompt attention.'

'A practical joke,' said Merton. 'The melancholy news has reached town through Bude's telegrams, and somebody at the depot is playing tricks with the instrument.'

'I have used the instrument to communicate that opinion to the manufacturers,' said Mr. Macrae, 'but I have had no reply.'

'What does the jester mean by heading his communication ”The Seven Hunters”?' asked Merton.

'The name of a real or imaginary public-house, I suppose,' said Mr.

Macrae.

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