This was obvious, but as Lady Bude was much to be pitied, alone, in the circumstances, Mr. Macrae determined to send her and Bude on the yacht, the Flora Macdonald, to cruise round the Butt of Lewis and examine the islets.  Both Bude and his wife were devoted to yachting, and the isles might yield something in the way of natural history.

Next day (Wednesday) the Budes steamed away, and there came many answers to the telegrams of Mr. Macrae, and one from Logan to Merton.  Logan was hard by, cruising with his cousin, Admiral Chirnside, at the naval manoeuvres on the northeast coast.  He would come to Inchnadampf at once.  Mr. Macrae heard from Gianesi and Giambresi.  Gianesi himself was coming with a fresh machine.  Mr. Macrae wished it had been Giambresi, whom he knew; Gianesi he had never met.  Condolences, of course, poured in from all quarters, even the most exalted.  The Emperor of Germany was most sympathetic.  But there was no news of importance.  Several yachting parties had been suspected and examined; three young ladies at Oban, Applecross, and Tobermory, had established their identity and proved that they were not Miss Macrae.

All day the wireless machine was silent.  Mr. Williams was shown all the rooms in the castle, and met Blake, who appeared at luncheon.  Blake was most civil.  He asked for a private interview with Mr. Macrae, who inquired whether his school friend, Mr. Williams, might share it?  Blake was pleased to give them both all the information he had, though his head, he admitted, still rang with the cowardly blow that had stunned him.  He was told of the discovery of the burned boat, and was asked whether it had approached from east or west, from the side of the Atlantic, or from the head of the sea loch.

‘From Kinlocharty,’ he said, ’from the head of the loch, the landward side.’  This agreed with the evidence of the villagers on the other side of the sea loch.

Would he recognise the crew?  He had only seen them at a certain distance, when they landed, but in spite of the blow on his head he remembered the black beard of one man, and the red beard of another.  To be sure they might shave off their beards, yet these two he thought he could identify.  Speaking to Miss Macrae as the men passed them, he had called one Donald Dubh, or ‘black,’ and the other Donald Ban, or ‘fair.’  They carried heavy shepherds’ crooks in their hands.  Their dress was Lowland, but they wore unusually broad bonnets of the old sort, drooping over the eyes.  Blake knew no more, except his anguish from the midges.

He expressed his hope to be well enough to go away on Friday; he would retire to the inn at Scourie, and try to persevere with his literary work.  Mr. Macrae would not hear of this; as, if the miscreants were captured, Blake alone could have a chance of identifying them.  To this Blake replied that, as long as Mr. Macrae thought that he might be useful, he was at his service.