Soon after dinner Blake retired to his room; his head was still suffering, and he could not bear smoke.  Gianesi and Mr. Macrae were in the Castle, Mr. Macrae feverishly reading the newspaper speculations on the melancholy affair:  leading articles on Science and Crime, the potentialities of both, the perils of wealth, and such other thoughts as occurred to active minds in Fleet Street.  Gianesi’s room was in the observatory, but he remained with Mr. Macrae in case he might be needed.  Merton and Logan were alone in the smoking-room, where Bude left them early.

‘Now, Merton,’ said Logan, ’you are going to come on in the next scene.  Have you a revolver?’

‘Heaven forbid!’ said Merton.

’Well, I have!  Now this is what you are to do.  We shall both turn in about twelve, and make a good deal of clatter and talk as we do so.  You will come with me into my room.  I’ll hand you the revolver, loaded, silently, while we talk fishing shop with the door open.  Then you will go rather noisily to your room, bang the door, take off your shoes, and slip out again—­absolutely noiselessly—­back into the smoking-room.  You see that window in the embrasure here, next the door, looking out towards the loch?  The curtain is drawn already, you will go on the window-seat and sit tight!  Don’t fall asleep!  I shall give you my portable electric lamp for reading in the train.  You may find it useful.  Only don’t fall asleep.  When the row begins I shall come on.’

‘I see,’ said Merton.  ’But look here!  Suppose you slip out of your own room, locking the door quietly, and into mine, where you can snore, you know—­I snore myself—­in case anybody takes a fancy to see whether I am asleep?  Leave your dog in your own room, he snores, all Spanish bull-dogs do.’

‘Yes, that will serve,’ said Logan.  ’Merton, your mind is not wholly inactive.’

They had some whisky and soda-water, and carried out the manoeuvres on which they had decided.

Merton, unshod, silently re-entered the smoking-room, his shoes in his hand; Logan as tactfully occupied Merton’s room, and then they waited.  Presently, the smoking-room door being slightly ajar, Merton heard Logan snoring very naturally; the Spanish bull-dog was yet more sonorous.  Gianesi came in, walked upstairs to his bedroom, and shut his door; in half an hour he also was snoring; it was a nasal trio.

Merton ‘drove the night along,’ like Dr. Johnson, by repeating Latin and other verses.  He dared not turn on the light of his portable electric lamp and read; he was afraid to smoke; he heard the owls towhitting and towhooing from the woods, and the clock on the Castle tower striking the quarters and the hours.