‘Have you heard anything?’ asked Bude.
‘They saw a boat on the loch about seven o’clock,’ said Mr. Macrae, ‘coming from the head of it, touching here, and then pulling west, round the cliff. They thought the crew Sabbath-breakers from the lodge at Alt Garbh. What’s that,’ he cried, at last seeing Blake, who lay supported against a rock, his eyes shut.
Merton rapidly explained.
‘It is as I thought,’ said Mr. Macrae resolutely. ‘I knew it from the first. They have kidnapped her for a ransom. Let us go home.’
Merton and Bude were silent; they, too, had guessed, as soon as they discovered Blake. The girl was her father’s very life, and they admired his resolution, his silence. A gate was taken from its hinges,
cloaks were strewn on it, and Blake was laid on this ambulance.
Merton ventured to speak.
‘May I take your boat, sir, across to the ferry, and send the fishermen from the village to search each end of the loch on their side? It is after midnight,’ he added grimly. ‘They will not refuse to go; it is Monday.’
‘I will accompany them,’ said Bude, ‘with your leave, Mr. Macrae, Merton can search our side of the loch, he can borrow another boat at the village in addition to yours. You, at the Castle, can organise the measures for to-morrow.’
‘Thank you both,’ said Mr. Macrae. ‘I should have thought of that. Thank you, Mr. Merton, for the idea. I am a little dazed. There is the key of the boat.’