‘But that was all,’ said Bude. ‘There was no other trace, except that plainly people had been coming and going, and living there. They had left some empty bottles, and two intact champagne bottles. We tasted it, it was excellent! The Lewis men, who had not heard of the affair, could tell nothing more, except, what is absurd, that they had lately seen a dragon flying far off over the sea. A dragon volant, did you ever hear such nonsense? The interpreter pronounced it “draigon.” He had not too much English himself.’
‘The Highlanders are so delightfully superstitious,’ said Lady Bude.
Logan opened his lips to speak, but said nothing.
‘I don’t think we should keep Mr. Macrae waiting,’ said Lady Bude.
‘If Bude will take the reins,’ said Merton, ‘you and he can be at the Castle in no time. We shall walk.’
‘Excuse me a moment,’ said Logan. ‘A word with you, Bude.’
He took Bude aside, uttered a few rapid sentences, and then helped Lady Bude into the tandem. Bude followed, and drove away.
‘Is your secret to be kept from me?’ asked Merton.
‘Well, old boy, you never told me the mystery of the Emu’s feathers! Secret for secret, out with it; how did the feathers help you, if they did help you, to find out my uncle, the Marquis? Gifgaff, as we say in Berwickshire. Out with your feathers! and I’ll produce my dragon volant, tail and all.’
Merton was horrified. The secret of the Emu’s feathers involved the father of Lady Fastcastle, of his old friend’s wife, in a very distasteful way. Logan, since his marriage, had never shown any curiosity in the matter. His was a joyous nature; no one was less of a self-tormentor.