he did not notice me, but from my cover I scanned every line of
him. He looked an ordinary countryman, wearing badly cut, baggy
knickerbockers of the kind that gillies affect. He had a face like a
Portuguese Jew, but I had seen that type before among people with
Highland names; they might be Jews or not, but they could speak
Gaelic. Presently he disappeared. He had followed my example and
selected a hiding-place.

It was a clear, hot day, but very pleasant in that airy place. Good
scents came up from the sea, the heather was warm and fragrant,
bees droned about, and stray seagulls swept the ridge with their
wings. I took a look now and then towards my neighbour, but he
was deep in his hidey-hole. Most of the time I kept my glasses on
Ranna, and watched the doings of the _Tobermory. She was tied up at
the jetty, but seemed in no hurry to unload. I watched the captain
disembark and walk up to a house on the hillside. Then some idlers
sauntered down towards her and stood talking and smoking close
to her side. The captain returned and left again. A man with papers
in his hand appeared, and a woman with what looked like a telegram.
The mate went ashore in his best clothes. Then at last, after
midday, Gresson appeared. He joined the captain at the piermaster's
office, and presently emerged on the other side of the jetty where
some small boats were beached. A man from the _Tobermory came in
answer to his call, a boat was launched, and began to make its way
into the channel. Gresson sat in the stern, placidly eating his luncheon.

I watched every detail of that crossing with some satisfaction
that my forecast was turning out right. About half-way across,
Gresson took the oars, but soon surrendered them to the _Tobermory
man, and lit a pipe. He got out a pair of binoculars and raked my