Contains A Further Enigma

: The Mystery Of The Green Ray

Back again at King's Cross. I seemed to have been travelling on the

line all my life. Myra turned to Dennis to say good-bye.



"I hope," she said bravely, "that when we meet again, Mr. Burnham, I

shall be able to tell you that I can see you looking well."



"I do hope so, indeed, Miss McLeod," said Dennis fervently, with a

quick glance at me. He was lost in admiration at the quiet calm with

whic
my poor darling took her terrible affliction.



"Good-bye, old chap," my friend said to me cheerily. "I hope to hear

in a day or two that Miss McLeod is quite well again. And," he added

in a whisper, "wire me if I can be of the slightest use."



I readily agreed, and I was beginning, even at that early stage, to be

very thankful that my friend was free to help me in case of need.



When at last we reached Invermalluch Lodge again I sat for an hour in

the library with the old General, telling him in detail the result of

the specialist's examination, but I took care to put Dennis's point of

view to him at the outset. I was glad I had done so, for he seized on

the faint hope it offered, and clung to it in despair.



"What is your own impression of Olvery?" he asked.



"I fancy his knighthood has got into his head," I replied. "He gave me

the impression that he was quite certain he knew everything there was

to be known, and that the mere fact of his not being sure about the

return of her sight made him positive that it must be complete and

absolute blindness. Of course he hedged and left himself a loophole in

the event of her recovery, but I could have told him just as much as

he told me."



"You say you took it on yourself to take Myra out of his hands



altogether. Why?"



"When I received your wire, I rang him up at once, and asked him to

see me immediately," I replied. "Eventually he agreed, and I took a

taxi to his place, and told him about Sholto. He gave his opinion

without any consideration whatever. He said: 'The merest coincidence,

Mr. Ewart--the merest coincidence--and you may even find that the dog

has not actually lost his sight at all.' So naturally I thanked him,

gave him his fee, and came away. I propose now that you should try and

get this man--Garnish, is it----?"



"Garnesk," interposed the General, consulting a note Dr. Whitehouse

had left--"Herbert Garnesk."



"Well, I want you to try and get him sufficiently interested to come

here--and stop here--until he has come to some decision, no matter

what it is."



"A thundering good idea, Ronald," agreed the old man. "But we can't

tell him this extraordinary story in writing."



"I'll go and find him, and fetch him back with me, if I have to hold a

gun to his head."



Accordingly I dashed off to Mallaig again, and caught the evening

train to Glasgow. I spent an unhappy night at the Central Station

Hotel--though it was certainly not the fault of the hotel--and looked

up Mr. Garnesk as early in the morning as I dared disturb a celebrated

consultant oculist. I took a fancy to the man at once. He was

young--in the early 'forties--very alert-looking, and exceedingly

businesslike. His prematurely grey hair gave an added air of

importance to the clever eye and clean-cut features, and he had a

charm of manner which would have made his fortune had he been almost

ignorant of the rudiments of his calling.



"So that's the complete story of Miss McLeod and her dog Sholto," he

mused, when I had finished speaking. For a brief second I thought he

was about to laugh at the apparent absurdity of the yarn, but before I

had time to answer he spoke again.



"Miss McLeod and her dog are apparently blind, and Mr. Ewart is a

bundle of nerves--and this is very excellent brandy, Mr. Ewart. Allow

me."



I accepted the proffered glass with a laugh, in spite of myself.



"What do you think of it?" I asked.



He sat on the edge of the table and swung his leg, wrapt in thought

for a moment.



"I'm very glad to say I don't know what to think of it," he replied

presently.



"Why glad?" I asked anxiously.



"Because, my dear sir, this is so remarkable that if I thought I could

see a solution I should probably be making a mistake. This is

something I am learning about for the first time; and, frankly, it

interests me intensely."



Suddenly he sat down abruptly, with a muttered "Now, then," and began

to catechise me in a most extraordinarily searching manner, firing off

question after question with the rapidity of a maxim gun.



I shall not detain the reader with details of this catechism. His

inquiries ranged from the system on which the house was lighted and

the number of hours Myra averaged per week on the sea to the make of

the engine in her motor-boat. His last question was: "Does anybody

drink the river water?"



"Windows that flash in the sun seem to me to be confusing the issue,"

he said at last. "Windows must always reflect light in a certain

direction at a certain time, and though they may be irritating they

could not possibly produce even temporary blindness. Still, we won't

forget them, Mr. Ewart, though we had better put them aside for a

moment. Now, how soon can you bring Miss McLeod to see me?"



"We had hoped," I ventured to suggest, "that you would be able to run

up and see her, and have a look at the ground. You could then examine

the dog as well."



"I'll be perfectly candid with you, Mr. Ewart," he replied. "I was

just going to start on a short holiday. I was going to Switzerland;

but the war has knocked that on the head, so I am just running up to

Perthshire for a week's fishing. I need a holiday very badly, more

especially as I have undertaken some Government work in connection

with the war. Fortunately, I am a bachelor, and I will willingly give

up a couple of days to Miss McLeod."



"Why not combine business with pleasure?" I suggested. "There's good

fishing at Invermalluch, gorgeous scenery, a golf-course a mile or two

away, and you can do just as you please on the General's estate. He'll

be delighted."



"Are you sure?" he asked. "Well, anyway, I can go to the Glenelg Hotel

and fish up Glenmore. Now, Mr. Ewart, we will catch the afternoon

train, the earliest there is--though I suppose there's only one."



"I can't tell you how grateful I am, Mr. Garnesk," I said. "It may

mean a very great deal to us that you are so anxious to see Miss

McLeod."



"I am not anxious to see Miss McLeod," he answered, cryptically. "I'm

anxious to see the dog."



I left him, to telegraph to the General that I was arriving that night

bringing the specialist with me; and I need hardly say that I left the

telegraph office with a comparatively light heart. The journey to

Mallaig was one of the most interesting afternoons I have spent.

Garnesk was consulting oculist to all the big chemical, machine, naval

and other manufacturers in the great industrial centre on the Clyde,

and he kept me enthralled with his accounts of the sudden attacks of

various eye diseases which were occasionally the fate of the workers.

The effects of chemicals, the indigenous generation of gases in the

furnace-rooms, and so on, had afforded him ample scope for experiment;

and, fortunately for us all, he was delighted to have found new ground

for enlarging his experience. The mixture of professional anecdote and

piscatorial prophecy with which he entertained me, now and then

rushing across the carriage to get a glimpse of a salmon-pool in some

river over which we happened to be passing, gave me an amusing insight

into the character of one whom I have since learned to regard as a

very brilliant and charming man. When we arrived at the landing-stage

at the Lodge, the General greeted him with undisguised joy.



"Begad! Mr. Garnesk," he blurted, "I'm thundering glad to see you,

sir. It's good of you to come, sir--extremely good."



"That remains to be seen, General," said Garnesk, solemnly--"whether

my visit will do any good. I hope so, with all my heart."



"Amen to that!" said the old man, pathetically, with a heavy sigh.



"How is Miss McLeod?" asked the scientist.



"Her eyes are no better," the General replied. "She cannot see at all.

Otherwise she is in perfect health. She says she feels as well as ever

she did. I can't understand it," he finished helplessly.



A suit-case, a bag of golf-clubs, and a square deal box completed

Garnesk's outfit.



"Steady with that--here, let me take it?" he cried, as Angus was

lifting the last item ashore. "Business and pleasure," he continued,

raising the box in his arms and indicating his clubs and fishing-rods

with a jerk of the head. "I've one or two things here that may help me

in my work, and as they are very delicate instruments I would rather

carry them myself."



As we approached the house the sound of the piano greeted us in the

distance; and soon we could distinguish the strains of that most

beautiful and understanding of all burial marches, Grieg's "Aase's

Tod."



"My daughter can even welcome us with a tune," said the old man

proudly. To him all music came under the category of "tunes," with the

sole exception of "God Save the King," which was a national

institution.



Garnesk stopped and stood on the path, the deal box clasped carefully

in his arms, his head on one side, listening.



"We have the right sort of patient to deal with, anyway," he remarked,

with a sigh of relief. But to me the melancholy insistence of the

exquisite harmonies was fraught with ill-omen, and I could not

restrain the shudder of an unaccountable fear as we resumed our walk.

Later on, when I found an opportunity to ask her why she had chosen

that particular music, I was only partially relieved by her ingenuous

answer:



"Oh! just because I love it, Ronnie," she said, "and there are no

difficult intervals to play with your eyes shut. I thought it was

rather clever of me to think of it. I shall soon be able to play more

tricky things. It will cure me of looking at the notes when I can see

again."



Myra and the young specialist were introduced; and, though he chatted

gaily with her, and touched on innumerable subjects, he never once

alluded to her misfortune. Though the General was evidently anxious

that Garnesk should make his examination as soon as possible,

hospitality forced him to suggest dinner first, and I was surprised at

the alacrity with which the visitor concurred, knowing, as I did, his

intense interest in the case. But, after a few conventional remarks to

the General and Myra, I was about to show him to his room when he

seized my arm excitedly.



"Quick!" he whispered. "Where's the dog?"



I led him to a room above the coach-house where poor Sholto was a

pitiful prisoner. Garnesk deposited his precious packing-case on the

floor, and called the dog to him. Sholto sprang forward in a moment,

recognising the tone of friendship in the voice, and planted his paws

on my companion's chest. For twenty minutes the examination lasted.

One strange test after another was applied to the poor animal; but he

was very good about it, and seemed to understand that we were trying

to help him.



"I should hate to have to kill that dog, but it may be necessary

before long," said the specialist. "But why didn't you tell Miss

McLeod her dog was blind?"



"We were afraid it would upset her too much," I answered, and then

suddenly realising the point of the question, I added, "but how on

earth did you know we hadn't?"



"Because," he said thoughtfully, "if you had, she strikes me as the

sort of girl who would have asked me straight away what I thought I

could do for him."



"You seem to understand human nature as well as you do science," I

said admiringly.



"The two are identical, or at least co-incident, Mr. Ewart," he

replied solemnly. "But what was it you did tell her?"



"We said he was suffering from a sort of eczema, which looked as if

it might be infectious, and we thought she ought not to be near him

for a bit. Otherwise, of course, she would have wanted him with her

all the time."



When the examination was over for the time being, I chained Sholto

to a hook in an old harness-rack, for he was strong and unused to

captivity, and the door had no lock, only a small bolt outside.

Garnesk packed away his instruments, carried them carefully to the

house, and then we sprinted upstairs to dress hurriedly for dinner.



Myra, poor child, was sensitive about joining us, but the specialist

was very anxious that she should do so, and we all dined together.

There was no allusion whatever to the strange events which had brought

us together, but, with my professional knowledge of the mysteries of

cross-examination, I noticed that Garnesk contrived to acquire more

knowledge of various circumstances on which he seemed to wish to be

enlightened than Sir Gaire Olvery had gleaned from forty minutes'

blunt questioning.



Myra had hardly left us after the meal was over when the butler handed

the General a card, and almost simultaneously a tall, shadowy figure

passed the window along the verandah.



"'Pon my soul, that's kind of him," said the simple-hearted old man.

"Run after him, Ronald, and fetch him back."



"Who is it?" I asked, rising.



"'Mr. J. G. Hilderman wishes to express his sympathy with General

McLeod in his daughter's illness.' Very neighbourly indeed."



I ran out after Hilderman, and found that his long legs had taken him

nearly half-way to the landing-stage by the time I overtook him. He

stopped as I called his name.



"Why, Mr. Ewart," he exclaimed in surprise, "you back again already? I

hope you had a very satisfactory interview with the specialist."



I told him briefly that our visit to London had given us no

satisfaction at all, and gave him the General's invitation to come

up to the house.



"I wouldn't think of it, Mr. Ewart," he declared emphatically. "Very

kind of General McLeod, but he don't want to worry with strangers just

now."



He was very determined; but I insisted, and he eventually gave way. I

was glad he had come. I had a somewhat unreasonable esteem for his

abilities and resource, and every assistance was welcomed with open

arms at Invermalluch Lodge at that time. His extensive knowledge even

included some slight acquaintance with the body's most wonderful

organ, for he told us some very interesting eye cases he had heard of

in the States. He was genuinely dumbfoundered when we told him that

Sholto was an additional victim.



"You don't say so!" he exclaimed. "Well, that is remarkable. It

sounds as if it came out of a book. In broad daylight a young lady

goes out, and is as well as can be. An hour later she is stone blind.

Two days afterwards her dog goes out, and he comes in blind. Yes,

it's got me beaten."



"It's got us all beaten," said Garnesk deliberately, and I was shocked

to hear him say it. I reflected that he had not even examined Myra,

and my disappointment was the keener that he should admit himself

nonplussed so early. But he left me no loophole of doubt.



"I can make nothing whatever of it," he added, ruefully shaking his

head. "I wonder if I ever shall?"



"Come, come! my dear sir," said Hilderman cheerily. "You scientist

fellows have a knack of making your difficulties a little greater than

they really are, in order to get more credit for surmounting them. I

know your little ways. I'm an American, you know, professor; you can't

get me that way."



Garnesk laughed--fortunately. And again I was grateful to Hilderman

for his timely tact, for it cheered the old man immensely, and helped

me a little, too. Presently the General left the room, and Garnesk

leaned forward.



"Mr. Hilderman," he said earnestly, "do everything in your power to keep

the old man's spirits up. I can give him no hope, professionally--I

dare not. But you, a layman, can. It is difficult in the circumstances

for Mr. Ewart to give much encouragement, but I know he will do his

best."



"J. G. Hilderman is yours to command," said the American, with a bow

that included us both. And then the oculist suggested that we should

have a look at Sholto. I led the way to the coach-house with a heavy

heart. I should not have minded a mystery which would have endangered

my own life. Apart from any altruism, the personal peril would have

afforded a welcome stimulant. But this unseen horror, which stabbed in

the dark and robbed my beautiful Myra of her sight, chilled my very

soul. I climbed wearily up the wooden stair to Sholto's new den,

carrying a stable lantern in my hand, for it was getting late, and the

carefully darkened room would be as black as ink. The other two

followed close on my heels. I opened the door and called to the dog. A

faint, sickly-sweet odour met me as I did so.



"You give your dogs elaborate kennels," said Hilderman, as he climbed

the stairs, and I laughed in reply.



At that instant Garnesk stood still and sniffed the air. With a sudden

jerk he wrenched the lantern from my hand and strode into the room.

Sholto was gone. Only half his chain dangled from the hook, cut

through the middle with a pair of strong wire-nippers.



The oculist turned to us with an expression of acute interest.



"Chloroform," he said quietly.



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