The millionaire then went to his own study, where he sat lost in thought. Morning had come before the sound of voices below informed him that Bude and Merton had returned. He hurried down; their faces told him all. ‘Nothing?’ he asked calmly.
Nothing! They had rowed along the loch sides, touching at every cottage and landing-place. They had learned nothing. He explained his ideas for the day.
‘If you will allow me to go in the yacht, I can telegraph from Lochinver in all directions to the police,’ said Bude.
‘We can use the wireless thing,’ said Mr. Macrae. ‘But if you would be so good, you could at least see the local police, and if anything occurred to you, telegraph in the ordinary way.’
‘Right,’ said Bude, ‘I shall now take a bath.’
‘You will stay with me, Mr. Merton,’ said Mr. Macrae.
‘It is a dreadful country for men in our position,’ said Merton, for the sake of saying something. ‘Police and everything so remote.’
‘It gave them their chance; they have waited for it long enough, I dare say. Have you any ideas?’
‘They must have a steamer somewhere.’
‘That is why I have ordered the balloon, to reconnoitre the sea from,’ said Mr. Macrae. ‘But they have had all the night to escape in. I think they will take her to America, to some rascally southern republic, probably.’