"I utterly refuse to walk ten miles through a Polar waste with a gouty
foot," McCurdie declared wrathfully.

The chauffeur offered a solution of the difficulty. He would set out
alone for Foullis Castle--five miles farther on was an inn where he
could obtain a horse and trap--and would return for the three gentlemen
with another car. In the meanwhile they could take shelter in a little
house which they had just passed, some half mile up the road. This was
agreed to. The chauffeur went on cheerily enough with a lamp, and the
three travellers with another lamp started off in the opposite
direction. As far as they could see they were in a long, desolate
valley, a sort of No Man's Land, deathly silent. The eastern sky had
cleared somewhat, and they faced a loose rack through which one pale
star was dimly visible.

* * * * *

"I'm a man of science," said McCurdie as they trudged through the snow,
"and I dismiss the supernatural as contrary to reason; but I have
Highland blood in my veins that plays me exasperating tricks. My reason
tells me that this place is only a commonplace moor, yet it seems like a
Valley of Bones haunted by malignant spirits who have lured us here to
our destruction. There's something guiding us now. It's just uncanny."

"Why on earth did we ever come?" croaked Biggleswade.

Lord Doyne answered: "The Koran says, 'Nothing can befall us but what
God hath destined for us.' So why worry?"