When the trap drove up to the door, there was some delay in answering Glynn's summons. A middle-aged man-servant came at last to the door, and peered out from the doorway in surprise.
"I sent a telegram," said Glynn, "from Loch Boisdale. I am Mr. Glynn."
"A telegram?" said the man. "It will not come up until the morning, sir."
Then the voice of the driver broke in.
"I brought up a telegram from Lochmaddy. It's from a gentleman who is coming to visit Mrs. Thresk from South Uist."
In the outer islands, where all are curious, news is not always to be had, and the privacy of the telegraph system is not recognised. Glynn laughed, and the same moment the man-servant opened an inner door of the tiny hall. Glynn stepped into a low-roofed parlour which was obviously the one living-room of the house. On his right hand there was a great fireplace with a peat fire burning in the grate, and a high-backed horsehair sofa in front of it. On his left at a small round table Thresk and his wife were dining.
Both Thresk and his wife sprang up as he entered. Linda advanced to him with every mark of surprise upon her face.
"You!" she cried, holding out her hand. "Where have you sprung from?"
"South Uist," said Glynn, repeating his lesson.
"And you have come on to us! That is kind of you! Martin, you must take Mr. Glynn's bag up to the guest-room. I expect you will be wanting your dinner."