“Yes, dominie,” said Mr. Duke.  “I have just been asking Thora what Colin could have meant.  Can you throw any light on the matter yourself?”

“I believe we can throw some light on it, bailie, and perhaps you can help me to make the matter clear.”

The schoolmaster stood with his hand resting on the chest that had been brought from the cave.

“First of all,” said he, “I will ask if you remember Carver Kinlay’s arrival in the Mainland?”

“Right well do I remember it,” said Mr. Duke.  “He was cast ashore in the wreck of a Danish barque about a dozen years ago, or more.  What was the ship’s name, now?”

“The Undine?” suggested Mr. Drever.

“Ay, that’s just it, the Undine.  And Sandy Ericson found Carver in some hole in the cliff two or three days after the wreck.”

“That was so,” said Andrew.  “And you will also mind that Carver was not alone in the cave.  There was a child with him—­a little girl.”

“Yes, yes; I mind that now, Andrew.  The child was Thora herself.”

“And that cave was the same that the smugglers were taken in on Saturday,” said David Flett.

“The very same,” said the dominie.  “And this box, here, has remained in the cave ever since the wreck.  See, the ship’s name is painted on it!”

And he turned the box with the name outward.  We read the word “Undine.”

The schoolmaster then opened the box and took from it a bundle of papers and a book, handing them to the bailie.

“By these you will see, sir, that the barque Undine sailed from Glasgow, bound for Copenhagen, and that her owner’s name was Quendale—­Ephraim Quendale, of Copenhagen.  The ship’s book will also show you that at Glasgow she took on board the man Carver Kinlay and his wife, his son Tom, and an infant girl.”

“The girl Thora—­” put in Bailie Duke.

“Wait a bit, sir,” said Andrew, continuing.  “There were four persons saved from the wreck in pilot Ericson’s boat.  These were Kinlay’s wife and their boy Tom, a Danish seaman, and a gentleman passenger.  That passenger, sir, was Ephraim Quendale himself, the owner of the ship, who, from what I gather, seems to have been returning to his native land, having been on a trip to Scotland with his young wife and their child.

“On the morning after the wreck some bodies were washed ashore, and, if you will remember, amongst these was the body of a beautiful young woman, in whose arms was still clasped the shattered body of a little child.  You see, Mr. Duke, there were two children on board the vessel, both of them girls, of about the same age.  The drowned woman was recognized by Quendale as his wife, and she was afterwards buried with the child in the old burying ground of Yeskenaby.

“Two days afterwards—­that is to say on the fifth day after the wreck—­Ephraim Quendale and the Danish sailor left Orkney.”

Here Andrew Drever put his hand in his breast pocket and drew out a paper.