‘I have used the instrument to communicate that opinion to the manufacturers,’ said Mr. Macrae, ‘but I have had no reply.’
‘What does the jester mean by heading his communication “The Seven Hunters”?’ asked Merton.
‘The name of a real or imaginary public-house, I suppose,’ said Mr. Macrae.
At this moment the electric bell gave its signal, and the tape began to exude. Mr. Macrae read the message aloud; it ran thus:
‘No good wiring to Gianesi and Giambresi at headquarters. You are hitched on to us, and to nobody else. Better climb down. What are your terms?’
‘This is infuriating,’ said Mr. Macrae. ‘It must be a practical joke, but how to reach the operators?’
‘Let me wire to-morrow by the old-fashioned way,’ said Merton; ‘I hear that one need not go to Lairg to wire. One can do that from Inchnadampf, much nearer. That is quicker than steaming to Loch Inver.’
‘Thank you very much, Mr. Merton; I must be here myself. You had better take the motor—trouble dazes a man—I forgot the motor when I ordered the tandem this morning.’
‘Very good,’ said Merton. ‘At what hour shall I start?’
‘We all need rest; let us say at ten o’clock.’