There was one from his wife. She proposed to stay another week at
the Neuk Hydropathic and suggested that he might join her and bring
her home. He sat down and wrote a long affectionate reply,
declining, but expressing his delight that she was soon returning.
"That's very likely the last time Mamma will hear from me,"
he reflected, but--oddly enough--without any great fluttering
of the heart.

Then he proceeded to be furiously busy. He sent out Tibby to buy
another knapsack and to order a cab and to cash a considerable cheque.
In the knapsack he packed a fresh change of clothing and the new
safety razor, but no books, for he was past the need of them.
That done, he drove to his solicitors.

"What like a firm are Glendonan and Speirs in Edinburgh?" he asked
the senior partner.

"Oh, very respectable. Very respectable indeed. Regular Edinburgh
W.S. Lot. Do a lot of factoring."

"I want you to telephone through to them and inquire about a place
in Carrick called Huntingtower, near the village of Dalquharter.
I understand it's to let, and I'm thinking of taking a lease of it."

The senior partner after some delay got through to Edinburgh, and was
presently engaged in the feverish dialectic which the long-distance
telephone involves. "I want to speak to Mr. Glendonan himself....
Yes, yes, Mr. Caw of Paton and Linklater....Good afternoon....
Huntingtower. Yes, in Carrick. Not to let? But I understand it's