“We seem to be surrounded by a spying army of glittering objects,” laughed my companion, as we strolled on. We had walked some forty yards when some instinct—I know not what—prompted me to investigate the affair. I turned back, and went to pick up the shining object, though for the life of me I could not have told you what I expected to find.
“Garnesk!” I bawled. “Garnesk! Come here!”
“What is it?” he shouted to me, as he came hurtling over the rocks.
“Look at it,” I replied tersely, and placed it in his outstretched palm. He glanced at it, and then at me.
“That settles it,” he said, and whistled softly, for I had found a small piece of brass, and on it was engraved:—
“Sholto, The Douglas, Invermalluch Lodge, Inverness-shire.”
It was the name-plate from Sholto’s collar.