“I see a man’s death there in the boat.”
Gloom quailed for a moment, then laughed low.
“I see no death of a man sitting in the boat, Marcus, but if I did I am thinking it would dance to the air of the ‘Dàn-nan-Ròn,’ which is more than the wraith of you or me would do.”
“It is not a wraith I was seeing, but the death of a man.”
Gloom whispered, and his brother nodded sullenly. The next moment a heavy muffler was round Donull’s mouth; and before he could resist, or even guess what had happened, he was on his face on the shore, bound and gagged. A minute later the oars were taken by Gloom, and the boat moved swiftly out of the inner haven.
As it drew near Mànus stared at it intently.
“That is not Donull that is rowing, Aulay!”
“No: it will be Gloom Achanna, I’m thinking.”
MacCodrum started. If so, that other figure at the stern was too big for Donull. The cloud passed just as the boat came alongside. The rope was made secure, and then Marcus and Gloom sprang on board.
“Where is Donull MacDonull?” demanded Mànus sharply.