over a mile ahead, was evidently the mansion at last. Behind me I saw the
doctor's house and noted with a nod unto myself that it stood distinctly
in the northwest district of the island. It was no long walk from that
bleak habitation to the Scollays' on the shore.

And now I addressed myself to a delicate question. If I were going to
keep up the part of suspicious stranger at the Rendall's, at all events
to begin with, what account of my arrival should I give? It must be a
tale plausible enough to keep them in doubt, for unless the laird himself
were actually up to his neck in treason (and though I was prepared for
anything by this time, there were limits to the assumptions I ventured to
make), he would certainly wire either to the police or the naval
authorities and I should immediately become a mere spectator. In fact, I
would probably not be allowed even to stay and look on.

And this was not mere selfish desire for glory and excitement. I was
quite capable of seeing that my tale might not convince older and wiser
people as thoroughly as it convinced myself. In fact I felt a strong
presentiment that I should merely be put down as a brilliant liar and the
spy hunt would come to an end--_with the spy still in the island_. That
was where I still do think I was justified in playing the hand myself.

But what tale could I tell? The truth--that I had dropped out of a
balloon? Who would believe it for an instant unless I produced the hidden
parachute? And if I unearthed the parachute the whole island would know
in a couple of hours and the people I was after would also be convinced.
And it would not be a conviction that I was a fellow Hun.

And then I chanced to turn my head and I had an inspiration. About five
miles out to sea I saw a ship, quite distinctly enough to spot her as a