The Mystery of the Green Ray

“Well,” I shouted, “can you see the yacht?”

“No,” he replied, “there’s nothing in sight, only a paddle steamer; looks like an excursion of some sort.”

“Oh! that’s the Glencoe,” I explained; “she won’t help us at all. She runs with tourists from Mallaig.”

“She seems to be barely able to take care of herself,” he laughed. “I shouldn’t like to be on her in a storm.”

We conversed fairly easily while he was on the cliff, for we were not many yards apart, and I began to wonder when he was coming down again.

“Have you any objection to my joining you?” I asked presently, as there seemed to be nothing for me to do below.

“Stop where you are for a bit, old man,” he advised. “I shall be down in a minute.”

“As long as you like,” I replied. “You’ve got a fine view from there, anyway. Don’t worry about me.”

I sat down on a rock, refilled my pipe, and prepared to wait till he rejoined me.

“Hi! Ewart!” he called presently, for my mind had already wandered to that darkened “den” at the house.

“Hullo,” I answered, jumping to my feet. “What is it?”

“Do you notice anything unusual?”

“No,” I shouted, “nothing that – ,” but suddenly I felt a strange singing in my ears, my pulses quickened, my voice died away into nothing. I looked up at Garnesk; he was leaning perilously near the edge of the cliff waving to me. I saw his lips move, yet I heard no sound. My heart was thumping against my chest with audible beats. I looked round me in every direction. No, there was nothing strange happening that the eye could see, yet here was I with a choking pulsation in my throat. My temples too were throbbing like a couple of steam hammers. Again I looked up at Garnesk; he was climbing hurriedly down the cliff. He paused and waved to me, and again his lips moved, and again I heard nothing.

Surely, I told myself, the events of the past few days had told on my strength. This was nerves, sheer nerves. Garnesk must give me his arm to the house. I would lie down and rest, and I should be all right in a few moments. It was nerves, that was all. But if Garnesk were not very quick about it I should have burst a blood-vessel in my brain before he reached me. Already my chest seemed to have swelled to twice its size. Garnesk, as I looked, seemed to be farther off than ever, a tiny speck in the distance.

The singing in my ears became a rushing torrent. It was the waterfall, I told myself; how stupid of me! Of course I should be all right in a minute. But my friend must hurry. I collapsed on the rock and gasped for breath. I looked for Garnesk. Still he seemed to be as far away as ever, and he scarcely seemed to be moving at all. I must tell him to be quick. It was simply nerves, of course; but I mustn’t let them get the better of me, or what would poor Myra do? I staggered to my feet to call to Garnesk.

“Hurry up; I’m not well.” I framed the words in my brain, but no sound passed my lips. I struggled for breath, and called again with all the power I could muster. I could not hear myself speak. And then I understood! My knees rocked beneath me, the river swirled round me, a rowan tree rushed by me in a flash, and as I fell sprawling on my face among the heather a thousand hammers seemed to pound the hideous sickening truth into the heaving pulp that was once my brain.

CHAPTER XI.

HOW THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENED

When I came to myself I was lying with my head pillowed on Garnesk’s arm. My coat and collar were on the ground beside me, and my head and shoulders were dripping with water.

“Ah!” said my companion, with a sigh of relief, “that’s better. You’ll be all right in a few minutes, Ewart. Take it easy, old chap, and rest.”

“Where am I?” I asked. “Good heavens!” I exclaimed, as I heard my own voice, and sat bolt upright in my astonishment, “I thought I was dumb!”

“Well, never mind about that now, old fellow,” Garnesk advised. “We’ll hear all about that later. Shut your eyes and rest a minute.”

“All right,” I agreed, “pass me my pipe and I will.”

Garnesk laughed aloud as he leaned over to reach my coat pocket.

“When a man shouts for his pipe he’s a long way from being dead or dumb or anything else,” he said.

Truth to tell, I was feeling very queer. I was dizzy and confused, but I felt that I wanted my pipe to help me collect my thoughts. So I lay there for some minutes quietly smoking, and indeed I felt as if I could have stayed like that for ever.

“I must have fainted,” I explained presently, overlooking the fact that Garnesk probably knew more about my ridiculous seizure than I did myself. “I don’t know when I did a thing like that before,” I added, beginning to get angry with myself.

“Well, I hope you won’t do it again,” said my friend fervently. “It’s not a thing to make a hobby of. And don’t you come near this infernal river any more until we know something definite.”

“You mean that the place has got on my nerves,” I said. “I suppose it has; I’m very sorry.”

“Do you feel well enough to tell me all about it?” he asked, “or would you rather wait till we get up to the house?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you now,” I agreed readily. “We mustn’t say anything about this at the house.” So I told him exactly how I had felt.

“When did it first come on?” he asked.

“When I heard you shout, and jumped up to see what it was. By the way, what was it?”

“Well,” he replied, “we’ll discuss the matter if you wouldn’t mind releasing my arm?”

“My dear fellow,” I cried, sitting up suddenly, as I realised that he was still propping up my head, “I’m most awfully sorry.”

“Now then,” he said, as he lighted his pipe and made himself comfortable, “we’ll go into the latest development. You remember what made me rush off and leave you there?”

“I remember saying something about the sunlight, and you suddenly dashed off.”

“To tell you the truth, I had very little faith in the theory that at this hour, above all, the spook of the Chemist’s Rock was active, until you pointed out that only about that time is the whole of the river course up to the rock, and the whole of the rock itself, flooded with sunlight. Then, when you made that remark, I suddenly felt that I ought to be on the cliff on the look out for this unknown yacht. We connect the two together in some way which we don’t yet understand, so I meant to go and have a look for the ship. I saw nothing of any importance until I shouted to you. Just then I was looking through the glasses at the shore. I turned them on the landing-stage and along the beach, and I had just lighted on the bay where we explored this morning when suddenly, for half a second or so, all the shadows of the rocks turned a vivid green, and then as suddenly resumed their natural colour again.”

“Good heavens!” I exclaimed. “Green again! Can you make anything of it at all, Garnesk? I’m sorry I’m such a duffer as to faint at the critical moment, when I might have been of some assistance to you. What in God’s name can it all mean?”

“I’m no further on,” he replied bitterly; “in fact, I’m further back.”

“Further back!” I cried. “How? I don’t see how you can be.”

“I’ll tell you what my theory was about all this affair, and it struck me as a good one – strange, of course, but then, this is a strange business.”

“It is, indeed,” I agreed ruefully. “Well, go on.”

“I had an idea, Ewart, that we should find some sort of wireless telegraphy at the bottom of this business. I had almost made up my mind that we had stumbled across the path of some inventor who was working with a new form of wireless transmission. I felt that in that way we might account for Miss McLeod’s blindness and the blindness of the dog. It also seemed to hold good as to the disappearance of Sholto. The inventor hears of the extraordinary effect of his invention, and is afraid he will get into a mess if it is found out. The yacht to experiment from fitted in beautifully. But now all that’s knocked on the head.”

“Why?” I asked. “It seems to me, Garnesk, that you are doing all the thinking in this affair, as if you had been used to it all your life. Your only trouble is that you’re too modest. I take it that because you didn’t see the yacht when you noticed the green flash you are taking it for granted you were wrong to expect it. I must say, old chap, I think you’ve done thundering well, as the General would put it, and even if you are prepared to admit your theory has been knocked on the head I’m not – at any rate, not until I have a jolly good reason. Yet it doesn’t seem to matter much what I say or do if I’m going to faint like a girl at the first sign of danger. If you hadn’t come to my rescue I might still be lying there waiting to come round, or something,” I finished in disgust.

My companion looked at me thoughtfully.

“Ewart,” he said, and solemnly shook his head, “you have brought me to the very thing that made me say my theory was exploded.”

“What thing?” I asked. “Surely my fainting can’t have made any difference to conclusions you had already come to?”

“But then you see,” my friend replied, “you didn’t faint. And if I had not seen you were in difficulties you would probably never have recovered.”

“Didn’t faint?” I exclaimed. “Well, I don’t know what the medical term for it is, and I daresay there are several technical phrases for the girlish business I went through. That idea of being dumb was simply imagination, but I assure you it was just what I should call a fainting fit.”