THE MYSTERY OF CLOOMBER

by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

CONTENTS

I THE HEGIRA OF THE WESTS FROM EDINBURGH

II OF THE STARNGE MANNER IN WHICH A TENANT CAME TO CLOOMBER

III OF OUR FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE WITH MAJOR-GENERAL J. B. HEATHERSTONE

IV OF A YOUNG MAN WITH A GREY HEAD

V HOW FOUR OF US CAME TO BE UNDER THE SHADOW OF CLOOMBER

VI HOW I CAME TO BE ENLISTED AS ONE OF THE GARRISON OF CLOOMBER

VII OF CORPORAL RUFUS SMITH AND HIS COMING TO CLOOMBER

VIII STATEMENT OF ISRAEL STAKES

IX NARRATIVE OF JOHN EASTERLING, F.R.C.P. EDIN.

X OF THE LETTER WHICH CAME FROM THE HALL

XI OF THE CASTING AWAY OF THE BARQUE "BELINDA"

XII OF THE THREE FOREIGN MEN UPON THE COAST

XIII IN WHICH I SEE THAT WHICH HAS BEEN SEEN BY FEW

XIV OF THE VISITOR WHO RAN DOWN THE ROAD IN THE NIGHT-TIME

XV THE DAY-BOOK OF JOHN BERTHIER HEATHERSTONE

XVI AT THE HOLE OF CREE

CHAPTER I

THE HEGIRA OF THE WESTS FROM EDINBURGH

I John Fothergill West, student of law in the University of St. Andrews,
have endeavoured in the ensuing pages to lay my statement before the
public in a concise and business-like fashion.

It is not my wish to achieve literary success, nor have I any desire by
the graces of my style, or by the artistic ordering of my incidents, to
throw a deeper shadow over the strange passages of which I shall have to
speak. My highest ambition is that those who know something of the
matter should, after reading my account, be able to conscientiously
indorse it without finding a single paragraph in which I have either
added to or detracted from the truth.

Should I attain this result, I shall rest amply satisfied with the
outcome of my first, and probably my last, venture in literature.

It was my intention to write out the sequence of events in due order,
depending on trustworthy hearsay when I was describing that which was
beyond my own personal knowledge. I have now, however, through the kind
cooperation of friends, hit upon a plan which promises to be less
onerous to me and more satisfactory to the reader. This is nothing less
than to make use of the various manuscripts which I have by me bearing
upon the subject, and to add to them the first-hand evidence contributed
by those who had the best opportunities of knowing Major-General
J. B. Heatherstone.

In pursuance of this design I shall lay before the public the testimony
of Israel Stakes, formerly coachman at Cloomber Hall, and of John
Easterling, F.R.C.P. Edin., now practising at Stranraer, in
Wigtownshire. To these I shall add a verbatim account extracted from
the journal of the late John Berthier Heatherstone, of the events which
occurred in the Thul Valley in the autumn of '41 towards the end of the
first Afghan War, with a description of the skirmish in the Terada
defile, and of the death of the man Ghoolab Shah.

To myself I reserve the duty of filling up all the gaps and chinks which
may be left in the narrative. By this arrangement I have sunk from the
position of an author to that of a compiler, but on the other hand my
work has ceased to be a story and has expanded into a series of
affidavits.

My Father, John Hunter West, was a well known Oriental and Sanskrit
scholar, and his name is still of weight with those who are interested
in such matters. He it was who first after Sir William Jones called
attention to the great value of early Persian literature, and his
translations from the Hafiz and from Ferideddin Atar have earned the
warmest commendations from the Baron von Hammer-Purgstall, of Vienna,
and other distinguished Continental critics.

In the issue of the _Orientalisches_Scienzblatt_ for January, 1861, he
is described as _"Der_beruhmte_und_sehr_gelhernte_Hunter_West_von
Edinburgh"_--a passage which I well remember that he cut out and
stowed away, with a pardonable vanity, among the most revered family
archives.

He had been brought up to be a solicitor, or Writer to the Signet, as it
is termed in Scotland, but his learned hobby absorbed so much of his
time that he had little to devote to the pursuit of his profession.

When his clients were seeking him at his chambers in George Street, he
was buried in the recesses of the Advocates' Library, or poring over
some mouldy manuscript at the Philosophical Institution, with his brain
more exercised over the code which Menu propounded six hundred years
before the birth of Christ than over the knotty problems of Scottish law
in the nineteenth century. Hence it can hardly be wondered at that as
his learning accumulated his practice dissolved, until at the very
moment when he had attained the zenith of his celebrity he had also
reached the nadir of his fortunes.

There being no chair of Sanscrit in any of his native universities, and
no demand anywhere for the only mental wares which he had to dispose of,
we should have been forced to retire into genteel poverty, consoling
ourselves with the aphorisms and precepts of Firdousi, Omar Khayyam, and
others of his Eastern favourites, had it not been for the kindness and
liberality of his half-brother William Farintosh, the Laird of
Branksome, in Wigtownshire.

This William Farintosh was the proprietor of a landed estate, the
acreage which bore, unfortunately, a most disproportional relation to
its value, for it formed the bleakest and most barren tract of land in
the whole of a bleak and barren shire. As a bachelor, however, his
expenses had been small, and he had contrived from the rents of his
scattered cottages, and the sale of the Galloway nags, which he bred
upon the moors, not only to live as a laird should, but to put by a
considerable sum in the bank.

We had heard little from our kinsman during the days of our comparative
prosperity, but just as we were at our wit's end, there came a letter
like a ministering angel, giving us assurance of sympathy and succour.
In it the Laird of Branksome told us that one of his lungs had been
growing weaker for some time, and that Dr. Easterling, of Stranraer, had
strongly advised him to spend the few years which were left to him in
some more genial climate. He had determined, therefore to set out for
the South of Italy, and he begged that we should take up our residence
at Branksome in his absence, and that my father should act as his land
steward and agent at a salary which placed us above all fear of want.

Our mother had been dead for some years, so that there were only myself,
my father, and my sister Esther to consult, and it may be readily
imagined that it did not take us long to decide upon the acceptance of
the laird's generous offer. My father started for Wigtown that very
night, while Esther and I followed a few days afterwards, bearing with
us two potato-sacksful of learned books, and such other of our household
effects that were worth the trouble and expense of transport.

Chapter II

OF THE STRANGE MANNER IN WHICH A TENANT CAME TO CLOOMBER

Branksome might have appeared a poor dwelling-place when compared with
the house of an English squire, but to us, after our long residence in
stuffy apartments, it was of regal magnificence.

The building was broad-spread and low, with red-tiled roof,
diamond-paned windows, and a profusion of dwelling rooms with
smoke-blackened ceilings and oaken wainscots. In front was a small
lawn, girt round with a thin fringe of haggard and ill grown beeches,
all gnarled and withered from the effects of the sea-spray. Behind lay
the scattered hamlet of Branksome-Bere--a dozen cottages at most--
inhabited by rude fisher-folk who looked upon the laird as their natural
protector.

To the west was the broad, yellow beach and the Irish Sea, while in all
other directions the desolate moors, greyish-green in the foreground and
purple in the distance, stretched away in long, low curves to the
horizon.

Very bleak and lonely it was upon this Wigtown coast. A man might walk
many a weary mile and never see a living thing except the white, heavy-
flapping kittiwakes, which screamed and cried to each other with their
shrill, sad voices.

Very lonely and very bleak! Once out of sight of Branksome and there
was no sign of the works of man save only where the high, white tower of
Cloomber Hall shot up, like a headstone of some giant grave, from amid
the firs and larches which girt it round.

This great house, a mile or more from our dwelling, had been built by a
wealthy Glasgow merchant of strange tastes and lonely habits, but at the
time of our arrival it had been untenanted for many years, and stood
with weather-blotched walls and vacant, staring windows looking blankly
out over the hill side.

Empty and mildewed, it served only as a landmark to the fishermen, for
they had found by experience that by keeping the laird's chimney and the
white tower of Cloomber in a line they could steer their way through the
ugly reef which raises its jagged back, like that of some sleeping
monster, above the troubled waters of the wind-swept bay.

To this wild spot it was that Fate had brought my father, my sister, and
myself. For us its loneliness had no terrors. After the hubbub and
bustle of a great city, and the weary task of upholding appearances upon
a slender income, there was a grand, soul-soothing serenity in the long
sky-line and the eager air. Here at least there was no neighbour to pry
and chatter.

The laird had left his phaeton and two ponies behind him, with the aid
of which my father and I would go the round of the estate doing such
light duties as fall to an agent, or "factor" as it was there called,
while our gentle Esther looked to our household needs, and brightened
the dark old building.

Such was our simple, uneventful existence, until the summer night when
an unlooked-for incident occurred which proved to be the herald of those
strange doings which I have taken up my pen to describe.

It had been my habit to pull out of an evening in the laird's skiff and
to catch a few whiting which might serve for our supper. On this
well-remembered occasion my sister came with me, sitting with her book
in the stern-sheets of the boat, while I hung my lines over the bows.

The sun had sunk down behind the rugged Irish coast, but a long bank of
flushed cloud still marked the spot, and cast a glory upon the waters.
The whole broad ocean was seamed and scarred with crimson streaks. I
had risen in the boat, and was gazing round in delight at the broad
panorama of shore and sea and sky, when my sister plucked at my sleeve
with a little, sharp cry of surprise.

"See, John," she cried, "there is a light in Cloomber Tower!".

I turned my head and stared back at the tall, white turret which peeped
out above the belt of trees. As I gazed I distinctly saw at one of the
windows the glint of a light, which suddenly vanished, and then shone
out once more from another higher up. There it flickered for some time,
and finally flashed past two successive windows underneath before the
trees obscured our view of it. It was clear that some one bearing a
lamp or a candle had climbed up the tower stairs and had then returned
into the body of the house.

"Who in the world can it be?" I exclaimed, speaking rather to myself
than to Esther, for I could see by the surprise upon her face that she
had no solution to offer. "Maybe some of the folk from Branksome-Bere
have wanted to look over the place."

My sister shook her head.

"There is not one of them would dare to set foot within the avenue
gates," she said. "Besides, John, the keys are kept by the house-agent
at Wigtown. Were they ever so curious, none of our people could find
their way in"

When I reflected upon the massive door and ponderous shutters which
guarded the lower storey of Cloomber, I could not but admit the force of
my sister's objection. The untimely visitor must either have used
considerable violence in order to force his way in, or he must have
obtained possession of the keys.

Piqued by the little mystery, I pulled for the beach, with the
determination to see for myself who the intruder might be, and what were
his intentions. Leaving my sister at Branksome, and summoning Seth
Jamieson, an old man-o'-war's-man and one of the stoutest of the
fishermen, I set off across the moor with him through the gathering
darkness.

"It hasna a guid name after dark, yon hoose," remarked my companion,
slackening his pace perceptibly as I explained to him the nature of our
errand. "It's no for naething that him wha owns it wunna gang within a
Scotch mile o't."

"Well, Seth, there is some one who has no fears about going into it,"
said I, pointing to the great, white building which flickered up in
front of us through the gloom.

The light which I had observed from the sea was moving backwards and
forward past the lower floor windows, the shutters of which had been
removed. I could now see that a second fainter light followed a few
paces behind the other. Evidently two individuals, the one with a lamp
and the other with a candle or rushlight, were making a careful
examination of tile building.

"Let ilka man blaw his ain parritch," said Seth Jamieson doggedly,
coming to a dead stop. "What is it tae us if a wraith or a bogle minds
tae tak' a fancy tae Cloomber? It's no canny tae meddle wi' such
things."

"Why, man," I cried, "you don't suppose a wraith came here in a gig?
What are those lights away yonder by the avenue gates?"

"The lamps o' a gig, sure enough!" exclaimed my companion in a less
lugubrious voice. "Let's steer for it, Master West, and speer where she
hails frae."

By this time night had closed in save for a single long, narrow slit in
the westward. Stumbling across the moor together, we made our way into
the Wigtown Road, at the point where the high stone pillars mark the
entrance to the Cloomber avenue. A tall dog-cart stood in front of the
gateway, the horse browsing upon the thin border of grass which skirted
the road.

"It's a' richt!" said Jamieson, taking a close look at the deserted
vehicle. "I ken it weel. It belongs tae Maister McNeil, the factor
body frae Wigtown--him wha keeps the keys."

"Then we may as well have speech with him now that we are here," I
answered. "They are coming down, if I am not mistaken."

As I spoke we heard the slam of the heavy door and within a few minutes
two figures, the one tall and angular, the other short and thick came
towards us through the darkness. They were talking so earnestly that
they did not observe us until they had passed through the avenue gate.

"Good evening, Mr. McNeil," said I, stepping forward and addressing the
Wigtown factor, with whom I had some slight acquaintance.

The smaller of the two turned his face towards me as I spoke, and showed
me that I was not mistaken in his identity, but his taller companion
sprang back and showed every sign of violent agitation.

"What is this, McNeil?" I heard him say, in a gasping, choking voice.
"Is this your promise? What is the meaning of it?"

"Don't be alarmed, General! Don't be alarmed!" said the little fat
factor in a soothing fashion, as one might speak to a frightened child.
"This is young Mr. Fothergill West, of Branksome, though what brings him
up here tonight is more than I can understand. However, as you are to
be neighbours, I can't do better than take the opportunity to introduce
you to each other. Mr. West, this is General Heatherstone, who is about
to take a lease of Cloomber Hall."

I held out my hand to the tall man, who look it in a hesitating,
half-reluctant fashion.

"I came up," I explained, "because I saw your lights in the windows, and
I bought that something might be wrong. I am very glad I did so, since
it has given me the chance of making the general's acquaintance."

Whilst I was talking, I was conscious that the new tenant of Cloomber
Hall was peering at me very closely through the darkness. As I
concluded, he stretched out a long, tremulous arm, and turned the
gig-lamp in such a way as to throw a flood of light upon my face.

"Good Heavens, McNeil!" he cried, in the same quivering voice as before,
"the fellow's as brown as chocolate. He's not an Englishman. You're
not an Englishman--you, sir?"

"I'm a Scotchman, born and bred," said I, with an inclination to laugh,
which was only checked by my new acquaintance's obvious terror.

"A Scotchman, eh?" said he, with a sigh of relief. "It's all one
nowadays. You must excuse me, Mr.--Mr. West. I'm nervous, infernally
nervous. Come along, McNeil, we must be back in Wigtown in less than an
hour. Good-night, gentlemen, good-night!"

The two clambered into their places; the factor cracked his whip, and
the high dog-cart clattered away through the darkness, casting a
brilliant tunnel of yellow light on either side of it, until the rumble
of its wheels died away in the distance.

"What do you think of our new neighbour, Jamieson?" I asked, after a
long silence.

"'Deed, Mr. West, he seems, as he says himsel', to be vera nervous.
Maybe his conscience is oot o' order."

"His liver, more likely," said I. "He looks as if he had tried his
constitution a bit. But it's blowing chill, Seth, my lad, and it's time
both of us were indoors."

I bade my companion good-night, and struck off across the moors for the
cheery, ruddy light which marked the parlour windows of Branksome.

CHAPTER III

OF OUR FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE WITH MAJOR-GENERAL J. B. HEATHERSTONE

There was, as may well be imagined, much stir amongst our small
community at the news that the Hall was to be inhabited once more, and
considerable speculation as to the new tenants, and their object in
choosing this particular part of the country for their residence.

It speedily became apparent that, whatever their motives might be, they
had definitely determined upon a lengthy stay, for relays of plumbers
and of joiners came down from Wigtown, and there was hammering and
repairing going on from morning till night.

It was surprising how quickly the signs of the wind and weather were
effaced, until the great, square-set house was all as spick-and-span as
though it had been erected yesterday. There were abundant signs that
money was no consideration to General Heatherstone, and that it was not
on the score of retrenchment that he had taken up his abode among us.

"It may be that he is devoted to study," suggested my father, as we
discussed the question round the breakfast table. "Perhaps he has chosen
this secluded spot to finish some magnum opus upon which he is engaged.
If that is the case I should be happy to let him have the run of my
library."

Esther and I laughed at the grandiloquent manner in which he spoke of
the two potato-sacksful of books.

"It may be as you say," said I, "but the general did not strike me
during our short interview as being a man who was likely to have any
very pronounced literary tastes. If I might hazard a guess, I should
say that he is here upon medical advice, in the hope that the complete
quiet and fresh air may restore his shattered nervous system. If you
had seen how he glared at me, and the twitching of his fingers, you
would have thought it needed some restoring."

"I do wonder whether he has a wife and a family," said my sister. "Poor
souls, how lonely they will be! Why, excepting ourselves, there is not
a family that they could speak to for seven miles and more."

"General Heatherstone is a very distinguished soldier," remarked my
father.

"Why, papa, however came you to know anything about him?"

"Ah, my dears," said my father, smiling at us over his coffee-cup, "you
were laughing at my library just now, but you see it may be very useful
at times." As he spoke he took a red-covered volume from a shelf and
turned over the pages. "This is an Indian Army List of three years
back," he explained, "and here is the very gentleman we want-
'Heatherstone, J. B., Commander of the Bath,' my dears, and 'V.C.',
think of that, 'V.C.'--'formerly colonel in the Indian Infantry, 41st
Bengal Foot, but now retired with the rank of major-general.' In this
other column is a record of his services--'capture of Ghuznee and
defence of Jellalabad, Sobraon 1848, Indian Mutiny and reduction of
Oudh. Five times mentioned in dispatches.' I think, my dears, that we
have cause to be proud of our new neighbour."

"It doesn't mention there whether he is married or not, I suppose?"
asked Esther.

"No," said my father, wagging his white head with a keen appreciation of
his own humour. "It doesn't include that under the heading of 'daring
actions'--though it very well might, my dear, it very well might."

All our doubts, however, upon this head were very soon set at rest, for
on the very day that the repairing and the furnishing had been completed
I had occasion to ride into Wigtown, and I met upon the way a carriage
which was bearing General Heatherstone and his family to their new home.
An elderly lady, worn and sickly-looking, was by his side, and opposite
him sat a young fellow about my own age and a girl who appeared to be a
couple of years younger.

I raised my hat, and was about to pass them, when the general shouted to
his coachman to pull up, and held out his hand to me. I could see now
in the daylight that his face, although harsh and stern, was capable of
assuming a not unkindly expression.

"How are you, Mr. Fothergill West?" he cried. "I must apologise to you
if I was a little brusque the other night--you will excuse an old
soldier who has spent the best part of his life in harness--All the
same, you must confess that you are rather dark-skinned for a
Scotchman."

"We have a Spanish strain in our blood," said I, wondering at his
recurrence to the topic.

"That would, of course, account for it," he remarked. "My dear," to his
wife, "allow me to introduce Mr. Fothergill West to you. This is my son
and my daughter. We have come here in search of rest, Mr. West
--complete rest."

"And you could not possibly have come to a better place," said I.

"Oh, you think so?" he answered. "I suppose it is very quiet indeed,
and very lonely. You might walk through these country lanes at night, I
dare say, and never meet a soul, eh?"

"Well, there are not many about after dark," I said.

"And you are not much troubled with vagrants or wandering beggars, eh?
Not many tinkers or tramps or rascally gipsies--no vermin of that sort
about?"

"I find it rather cold," said Mrs. Heatherstone, drawing her thick
sealskin mantle tighter round her figure. "We are detaining Mr. West,
too."

"So we are, my dear, so we are. Drive on, coachman. Good-day, Mr.
West."

The carriage rattled away towards the Hall, and I trotted thoughtfully
onwards to the little country metropolis.

As I passed up the High Street, Mr. McNeil ran out from his office and
beckoned to me to stop.

"Our new tenants have gone out," he said. "They drove over this morning."

"I met them on the way," I answered.

As I looked down at the little factor, I could see that his face was
flushed and that he bore every appearance of having had an extra glass.

"Give me a real gentleman to do business with," he said, with a burst of
laughter. "They understand me and I understand them. 'What shall I
fill it up for?' says the general, taking a blank cheque out o' his
pouch and laying it on the table. 'Two hundred,' says I, leaving a bit
o' a margin for my own time and trouble."

"I thought that the landlord had paid you for that," I remarked.

"Aye, aye, but it's well to have a bit margin. He filled it up and
threw it over to me as if it had been an auld postage stamp. That's the
way business should be done between honest men--though it wouldna do if
one was inclined to take an advantage. Will ye not come in, Mr. West,
and have a taste of my whisky?"

"No, thank you" said I, "I have business to do."

"Well, well, business is the chief thing. It's well not to drink in
the morning, too. For my own part, except a drop before breakfast to
give me an appetite, and maybe a glass, or even twa, afterwards to
promote digestion, I never touch spirits before noon. What d'ye think
o' the general, Mr. West?"

"Why, I have hardly had an opportunity of judging," I answered.

Mr. McNeil tapped his forehead with his forefinger.

"That's what I think of him," he said in a confidential whisper, shaking
his head at me. "He's gone, sir, gone, in my estimation. Now what
would you take to be a proof of madness, Mr. West?"

"Why, offering a blank cheque to a Wigtown house-agent," said I.

"Ah, you're aye at your jokes. But between oorsel's now, if a man asked
ye how many miles it was frae a seaport, and whether ships come there
from the East, and whether there were tramps on the road, and whether it
was against the lease for him to build a high wall round the grounds,
what would ye make of it, eh?"

"I should certainly think him eccentric," said I.

"If every man had his due, our friend would find himsel' in a house with
a high wall round the grounds, and that without costing him a farthing,"
said the agent.

"Where then?" I asked, humouring his joke.

"Why, in the Wigtown County Lunatic Asylum," cried the little man, with
a bubble of laughter, in the midst of which I rode on my way, leaving
him still chuckling over his own facetiousness.

The arrival of the new family at Cloomber Hall had no perceptible effect
in relieving the monotony of our secluded district, for instead of
entering into such simple pleasures as the country had to offer, or
interesting themselves, as we had hoped, in our attempts to improve the
lot of our poor crofters and fisherfolk, they seemed to shun all
observation, and hardly ever to venture beyond the avenue gates.

We soon found, too, that the factor's words as to the inclosing of the
grounds were founded upon fact, for gangs of workmen were kept hard at
work from early in the morning until late at night in erecting a high,
wooden fence round the whole estate.

When this was finished and topped with spikes, Cloomber Park became
impregnable to any one but an exceptionally daring climber. It was as
if the old soldier had been so imbued with military ideas that, like my
Uncle Toby, he could not refrain even in times of peace from standing
upon the defensive.

Stranger still, he had victualled the house as if for a siege, for
Begbie, the chief grocer of Wigtown, told me himself in a rapture of
delight and amazement that the general had sent him an order for
hundreds of dozens of every imaginable potted meat and vegetable.

It may be imagined that all these unusual incidents were not allowed to
pass without malicious comment. Over the whole countryside and as far
away as the English border there was nothing but gossip about the new
tenants of Cloomber Hall and the reasons which had led them to come
among us.

The only hypothesis, however, which the bucolic mind could evolve, was
that which had already occurred to Mr. McNeil, the factor--namely, that
the old general and his family were one and all afflicted with madness,
or, as an alternative conclusion, that he had committed some heinous
offence and was endeavouring to escape the consequences of his misdeeds.

These were both natural suppositions under the circumstances, but
neither of them appeared to me to commend itself as a true explanation
of the facts.

It is true that General Heatherstone's behaviour on the occasion of our
first interview was such as to suggest some suspicion of mental disease,
but no man could have been more reasonable or more courteous than he had
afterwards shown himself to be.

Then, again, his wife and children led the same secluded life that he
did himself, so that the reason could not be one peculiar to his own
health.

As to the possibility of his being a fugitive from justice, that theory
was even more untenable. Wigtownshire was bleak and lonely, but it was
not such an obscure corner of the world that a well-known soldier could
hope to conceal himself there, nor would a man who feared publicity set
every one's tongue wagging as the general had done.

On the whole, I was inclined to believe that the true solution of the
enigma lay in his own allusion to the love of quiet, and that they had
taken shelter here with an almost morbid craving for solitude and
repose. We very soon had an instance of the great lengths to which this
desire for isolation would carry them.

My father had come down one morning with the weight of a great
determination upon his brow.

"You must put on your pink frock to-day, Esther," said he, "and you,
John, you must make yourself smart, for I have determined that the three
of us shall drive round this afternoon and pay our respects to Mrs.
Heatherstone and the general."

"A visit to Cloomber," cried Esther, clapping her hands.

"I am here," said my father, with dignity, "not only as the laird's
factor, but also as his kinsman. In that capacity I am convinced that
he would wish me to call upon these newcomers and offer them any
politeness which is in our power. At present they must feel lonely and
friendless. What says the great Firdousi? 'The choicest ornaments to a
man's house are his friends.'"

My sister and I knew by experience that when the old man began to
justify his resolution by quotations from the Persian poets there was no
chance of shaking it. Sure enough that afternoon saw the phaeton at the
door, with my father perched upon the seat, with his second-best coat on
and a pair of new driving-gloves.

"Jump in, my dears," he cried, cracking his whip briskly, "we shall show
the general that he has no cause to be ashamed of his neighbours."

Alas! pride always goes before a fall. Our well-fed ponies and shining
harness were not destined that day to impress the tenants of Cloomber
with a sense of our importance.

We had reached the avenue gate, and I was about to get out and open it,
when our attention was arrested by a very large wooden placard, which
was attached to one of the trees in such a manner that no one could
possibly pass without seeing it. On the white surface of this board was
printed in big, black letters the following hospitable inscription:

GENERAL AND MRS. HEATHERSTONE
HAVE NO WISH
TO INCREASE
THE CIRCLE OF THEIR ACQUAINTANCE.

We all sat gazing at this announcement for some moments in silent
astonishment. Then Esther and I, tickled by the absurdity of the thing,
burst out laughing, but my father pulled the ponies' heads round, and
drove home with compressed lips and the cloud of much wrath upon his
brow. I have never seen the good man so thoroughly moved, and I am
convinced that his anger did not arise from any petty feeling of injured
vanity upon his own part, but from the thought that a slight had been
offered to the Laird of Branksome, whose dignity he represented.

CHAPTER IV

OF A YOUNG MAN WITH A GREY HEAD

If I had any personal soreness on account of this family snub, it was a
very passing emotion, and one which was soon effaced from my mind.

It chanced that on the very next day after the episode I had occasion to
pass that way, and stopped to have another look at the obnoxious
placard. I was standing staring at it and wondering what could have
induced our neighbours to take such an outrageous step, when I became
suddenly aware of a sweet, girlish face which peeped out at me from
between the bars of the gate, and of a white hand which eagerly beckoned
me to approach. As I advanced to her I saw that it was the same young
lady whom I had seen in the carriage.

"Mr. West," she said, in a quick whisper, glancing from side to side as
she spoke in a nervous, hasty manner, "I wish to apologise to you for
the indignity to which you and your family were subjected yesterday. My
brother was in the avenue and saw it all, but he is powerless to
interfere. I assure you, Mr. West, that if that hateful thing,"
pointing up at the placard, "has given you any annoyance, it has given
my brother and myself far more."

"Why, Miss Heatherstone," said I, putting the matter off with a laugh,
"Britain is a free country, and if a man chooses to warn off visitors
from his premises there is no reason why he should not."

"It is nothing less than brutal," she broke out, with a petulant stamp
of the foot. "To think that your sister, too, should have such a
unprovoked insult offered to her! I am ready to sink with shame at the
very thought."

"Pray do not give yourself one moment's uneasiness upon the subject,"
said I earnestly, for I was grieved at her evident distress. "I am sure
that your father has some reason unknown to us for taking this step."

"Heaven knows he has!" she answered, with ineffable sadness in her
voice, "and yet I think it would be more manly to face a danger than to
fly from it. However, he knows best, and it is impossible for us to
judge. But who is this?" she exclaimed, anxiously, peering up the dark
avenue. "Oh, it is my brother Mordaunt. Mordaunt," she said, as the
young man approached us. "I have been apologising to Mr. West for what
happened yesterday, in your name as well as my own."

"I am very, very glad to have the opportunity of doing it in person,"
said he courteously. "I only wish that I could see your sister and your
father as well as yourself, to tell them how sorry I am. I think you
had better run up to the house, little one, for it's getting near
tiffin-time. No--don't you go Mr. West. I want to have a word with
you."

Miss Heatherstone waved her hand to me with a bright smile, and tripped
up the avenue, while her brother unbolted the gate, and, passing
through, closed it again, locking it upon the outside.

"I'll have a stroll down the road with you, if you have no objection.
Have a manilla." He drew a couple of cheroots from his pocket and
handed one to me. "You'll find they are not bad," he said. "I became
a connoisseur in tobacco when I was in India. I hope I am not
interfering with your business in coming along with you?"

"Not at all," I answered "I am very glad to have your company."

"I'll tell you a secret," said my companion. "This is the first time
that I have been outside the grounds since we have been down here."

"And your sister?"

"She has never been out, either," he answered. "I have given the
governor the slip to-day, but he wouldn't half like it if he knew. It's
a whim of his that we should keep ourselves entirely to ourselves. At
least, some people would call it a whim, for my own part I have reason
to believe that he has solid grounds for all that he does--though
perhaps in this matter he may be a little too exacting."

"You must surely find it very lonely," said I. "Couldn't you manage to
slip down at times and have a smoke with me? That house over yonder is
Branksome."

"Indeed, you are very kind," he answered, with sparkling eyes. "I
should dearly like to run over now and again. With the exception of
Israel Stakes, our old coachman and gardener, I have not a soul that I
can speak to."

"And your sister--she must feel it even more," said I, thinking in my
heart that my new acquaintance made rather too much of his own troubles
and too little of those of his companion.

"Yes; poor Gabriel feels it, no doubt," he answered carelessly, "but
it's a more unnatural thing for a young man of my age to be cooped up in
this way than for a woman. Look at me, now. I am three-and-twenty next
March, and yet I have never been to a university, nor to a school for
that matter. I am as complete an ignoramus as any of these clodhoppers.
It seems strange to you, no doubt, and yet it is so. Now, don't you
think I deserve a better fate?"

He stopped as he spoke, and faced round to me, throwing his palms
forward in appeal.

As I looked at him, with the sun shining upon his face, he certainly
did seem a strange bird to be cooped up in such a cage. Tall and
muscular, with a keen, dark face, and sharp, finely cut features, he
might have stepped out of a canvas of Murillo or Velasquez. There were
latent energy and power in his firm-set mouth, his square eyebrows, and
the whole pose of his elastic, well-knit figure.

"There is the learning to be got from books and the learning to be got
from experience," said I sententiously. "If you have less of your share
of the one, perhaps you have more of the other. I cannot believe you
have spent all your life in mere idleness and pleasure."

"Pleasure!" he cried. "Pleasure! Look at this!" He pulled off his hat,
and I saw that his black hair was all decked and dashed with streaks of
grey. "Do you imagine that this came from pleasure?" he asked, with a
bitter laugh.

"You must have had some great shock," I said, astonished at the sight,
"some terrible illness in your youth. Or perhaps it arises from a more
chronic cause--a constant gnawing anxiety. I have known men as young as
you whose hair was as grey."

"Poor brutes!" he muttered. "I pity them."

"If you can manage to slip down to Branksome at times," I said, "perhaps
you could bring Miss Heatherstone with you. I know that my father and
my sister would be delighted to see her, and a change, if only for an
hour or two, might do her good."

"It would be rather hard for us both to get away together," he answered,
"However, if I see a chance I shall bring her down. It might be managed
some afternoon perhaps, for the old man indulges in a siesta
occasionally."

We had reached the head of the winding lane which branches off from the
high road and leads to the laird's house, so my companion pulled up.

"I must go back," he said abruptly, "or they will miss me. It's very
kind of you, West, to take this interest in us. I am very grateful to
you, and so will Gabriel be when she hears of your kind invitation.
It's a real heaping of coals of fire after that infernal placard of my
father's."

He shook my hand and set off down the road, but he came running after me
presently, calling me to stop.

"I was just thinking," he said, "that you must consider us a great
mystery up there at Cloomber. I dare say you have come to look upon it
as a private lunatic asylum, and I can't blame you. If you are
interested in the matter, I feel it is unfriendly upon my part not to
satisfy your curiosity, but I have promised my father to be silent about
it. And indeed if I were to tell you all that I know you might not be
very much the wiser after all. I would have you understand this,
however--that my father is as sane as you or I, and that he has very
good reasons for living the life which he does. I may add that his wish
to remain secluded does not arise from any unworthy or dishonourable
motives, but merely from the instinct of self-preservation."

"He is in danger, then?" I ejaculated.

"Yes; he is in constant danger."

"But why does he not apply to the magistrates for protection?" I asked.
"If he is afraid of any one, he has only to name him and they will bind
him over to keep the peace."

"My dear West," said young Heatherstone, "the danger with which my
father is threatened is one that cannot be averted by any human
intervention. It is none the less very real, and possibly very
imminent."

"You don't mean to assert that it is supernatural," I said
incredulously.

"Well, hardly that, either," he answered with hesitation. "There." he
continued, "I have said rather more than I should, "but I know that you
will not abuse my confidence. Good-bye!"

He look to his heels and was soon out of sight round a curve in the
country road.

A danger which was real and imminent, not to be averted by human means,
and yet hardly supernatural--here was a conundrum indeed!

I had come to look upon the inhabitants of the Hall as mere eccentrics,
but after what young Mordaunt Heatherstone had just told me, I could no
longer doubt that some dark and sinister meaning underlay all their
actions. The more I pondered over the problem, the more unanswerable
did it appear, and yet I could not get the matter out of my thoughts.

The lonely, isolated Hall, and the strange, impending catastrophe which
hung over its inmates, appealed forcibly to my imagination. All that
evening, and late into the night, I sat moodily by the fire, pondering
over what I had heard, and revolving in my mind the various incidents
which might furnish me with some clue to the mystery.

CHAPTER V

HOW FOUR OF US CAME TO BE UNDER THE SHADOW OF CLOOMBER

I trust that my readers will not set me down as an inquisitive busybody
when I say that as the days and weeks went by I found my attention and
my thoughts more and more attracted to General Heatherstone and the
mystery which surrounded him.

It was in vain that I endeavoured by hard work and a strict attention to
the laird's affairs to direct my mind into some more healthy channel.
Do what I would, on land or on the water, I would still find myself
puzzling over this one question, until it obtained such a hold upon me
that I felt it was useless for me to attempt to apply myself to anything
until I had come to some satisfactory solution of it.

I could never pass the dark line of five-foot fencing, and the great
iron gate, with its massive lock, without pausing and racking my brain
as to what the secret might be which was shut in by that inscrutable
barrier. Yet, with all my conjectures and all my observations, I could
never come to any conclusion which could for a moment be accepted as an
explanation of the facts.

My sister had been out for a stroll one night, visiting a sick peasant
or performing some other of the numerous acts of charity by which she
had made herself beloved by the whole countryside.

"John," she said when she returned, "have you seen Cloomber Hall at
night?"

"No," I answered, laying down the book which I was reading. "Not since
that memorable evening when the general and Mr. McNeil came over to make
an inspection."

"Well, John, will you put your hat on and come a little walk with me?"

I could see by her manner that something had agitated or frightened her.

"Why, bless the girl!" cried I boisterously, "what is the matter? The
old Hall is not on fire, surely? You look as grave as if all Wigtown
were in a blaze."

"Not quite so bad as that," she said, smiling. "But do come out, Jack.
I should very much like you to see it."

I had always refrained from saying anything which might alarm my sister,
so that she knew nothing of the interest which our neighbours' doings
had for me. At her request I took my hat and followed her out
into the darkness. She led the way along a little footpath over the
moor, which brought us to some rising ground, from which we could look
down upon the Hall without our view being obstructed by any of the
fir-trees which had been planted round it.

"Look at that!" said my sister, pausing at the summit of this little
eminence.

Cloomber lay beneath us in a blaze of light. In the lower floors the
shutters obscured the illumination, but above, from the broad windows of
the second storey to the thin slits at the summit of the tower, there
was not a chink or an aperture which did not send forth a stream of
radiance. So dazzling was the effect that for a moment I was persuaded
that the house was on fire, but the steadiness and clearness of the
light soon freed me from that apprehension. It was clearly the result
of many lamps placed systematically all over the building.

It added to the strange effect that all these brilliantly illuminated
rooms were apparently untenanted, and some of them, so far as we could
judge, were not even furnished. Through the whole great house there was
no sign of movement or of life--nothing but the clear, unwinking flood
of yellow light.

I was still lost in wonder at the sight when I heard a short, quick
sob at my side.

"What is it, Esther, dear?" I asked, looking down at my companion.

"I feel so frightened. Oh, John, John, take me home, I feel so
frightened!"

She clung to my arm, and pulled at my coat in a perfect frenzy of fear.

"It's all safe, darling," I said soothingly. "There is nothing to fear.
What has upset you so?"

"I am afraid of them, John; I am afraid of the Heatherstones. Why is
their house lit up like this every night? I have heard from others that
it is always so. And why does the old man run like a frightened hare if
any one comes upon him. There is something wrong about it, John, and it
frightens me."

I pacified her as well as I could, and led her home with me, where I
took care that she should have some hot port negus before going to bed.
I avoided the subject of the Heatherstones for fear of exciting her, and
she did not recur to it of her own accord. I was convinced, however,
from what I had heard from her, that she had for some time back been
making her own observations upon our neighbours, and that in doing so
she had put a considerable strain upon her nerves.

I could see that the mere fact of the Hall being illuminated at night
was not enough to account for her extreme agitation, and that it must
have derived its importance in her eyes from being one in a chain of
incidents, all of which had left a weird or unpleasant impression upon
her mind.

That was the conclusion which I came to at the time, and I have reason
to know now that I was right, and that my sister had even more cause
than I had myself for believing that there was something uncanny about
the tenants of Cloomber.

Our interest in the matter may have arisen at first from nothing
higher than curiosity, but events soon look a turn which associated us
more closely with the fortunes of the Heatherstone family.

Mordaunt had taken advantage of my invitation to come down to the
laird's house, and on several occasions he brought with him his
beautiful sister. The four of us would wander over the moors together,
or perhaps if the day were fine set sail upon our little skiff and stand
off into the Irish Sea.

On such excursions the brother and sister would be as merry and as
happy as two children. It was a keen pleasure to them to escape from
their dull fortress, and to see, if only for a few hours, friendly and
sympathetic faces round them.

There could be but one result when four young people were brought
together in sweet, forbidden intercourse. Acquaintance-ship warmed into
friendship, and friendship flamed suddenly into love.

Gabriel sits beside me now as I write, and she agrees with me that,
dear as is the subject to ourselves, the whole story of our mutual
affection is of too personal a nature to be more than touched upon in
this statement. Suffice it to say that, within a few weeks of our first
meeting Mordaunt Heatherstone had won the heart of my clear sister, and
Gabriel had given me that pledge which death itself will not be able to
break.

I have alluded in this brief way to the double tie which sprang up
between the two families, because I have no wish that this narrative
should degenerate into anything approaching to romance, or that I should
lose the thread of the facts which I have set myself to chronicle.
These are connected with General Heatherstone, and only indirectly with
my own personal history.

It is enough if I say that after our engagement the visits to
Branksome became more frequent, and that our friends were able sometimes
to spend a whole day with us when business had called the general to
Wigtown, or when his gout confined him to his room.

As to our good father, he was ever ready to greet us with many small
jests and tags of Oriental poems appropriate to the occasion, for we had
no secrets from him, and he already looked upon us all as his children.

There were times when on account of some peculiarly dark or restless
fit of the general's it was impossible for weeks on end for either
Gabriel or Mordaunt to get away from the grounds. The old man would
even stand on guard, a gloomy and silent sentinel, at the avenue gate,
or pace up and down the drive as though he suspected that attempts had
been made to penetrate his seclusion.

Passing of an evening I have seen his dark, grim figure flitting about
in the shadow of the trees, or caught a glimpse of his hard, angular,
swarthy face peering out suspiciously at me from behind the bars.

My heart would often sadden for him as I noticed his uncouth, nervous
movements, his furtive glances and twitching features. Who would have
believed that this slinking, cowering creature had once been a dashing
officer, who had fought the battles of his country and had won the palm
of bravery among the host of brave men around him?

In spite of the old soldier's vigilance, we managed to hold
communication with our friends.

Immediately behind the Hall there was a spot where the fencing had
been so carelessly erected that two of the rails could be removed
without difficulty, leaving a broad gap, which gave us the opportunity
for many a stolen interview, though they were necessarily short, for the
general's movements were erratic, and no part of the grounds was secure
from his visitations.

How vividly one of these hurried meetings rises before me! It stands
out clear, peaceful, and distinct amid the wild, mysterious incidents
which were destined to lead up to the terrible catastrophe which has
cast a shade over our lives.

I can remember that as I walked through the fields the grass was damp
with the rain of the morning, and the air was heavy with the smell of
the fresh-turned earth. Gabriel was waiting for me under the hawthorn
tree outside the gap, and we stood hand-in-hand looking down at the long
sweep of moorland and at the broad blue channel which encircled it with
its fringe of foam.

Far away in the north-west the sun glinted upon the high peak of Mount
Throston. From where we stood we could see the smoke of the steamers as
they ploughed along the busy water-way which leads to Belfast.

"Is it not magnificent?" Gabriel cried, clasping her hands round my arm.
"Ah, John, why are we not free to sail away over these waves together,
and leave all our troubles behind us on the shore?"

"And what are the troubles which you would leave behind you, dear one?"
I asked. "May I not know them, and help you to bear them?"

"I have no secrets from you, John," she answered, "Our chief trouble is,
as you may guess, our poor father's strange behaviour. Is it not a
sad thing for all of us that a man who has played such a distinguished
part in the world should skulk from one obscure corner of the country to
another, and should defend himself with locks and barriers as though he
were a common thief flying from justice? This is a trouble, John, which
it is out of your power to alleviate."

"But why does he do it, Gabriel?" I asked.

"I cannot tell," she answered frankly. "I only know that he imagines
some deadly danger to be hanging over his head, and that this danger was
incurred by him during his stay in India. What its nature may be I have
no more idea than you have."

"Then your brother has," I remarked. "I am sure from the way in which
he spoke to me about it one day that he knows what it is, and that he
looks upon it as real."

"Yes, he knows, and so does my mother," she answered, "but they have
always kept it secret from me. My poor father is very excited at
present. Day and night he is in an agony of apprehension, but it will
soon be the fifth of October, and after that he will be at peace."

"How do you know that?" I asked in surprise.

"By experience," she answered gravely. "On the fifth of October these
fears of his come to a crisis. For years back he has been in the habit
of locking Mordaunt and myself up in our rooms on that date, so that we
have no idea what occurs, but we have always found that he has been much
relieved afterwards, and has continued to be comparatively in peace
until that day begins to draw round again."

"Then you have only ten days or so to wait," I remarked, for September
was drawing to a close. "By the way, dearest, why is it that you light
up all your rooms at night?"

"You have noticed it, then?" she said. "It comes also from my father's
fears. He does not like to have one dark corner in the whole house. He
walks about a good deal at night, and inspects everything, from the
attics right down to the cellars. He has large lamps in every room and
corridor, even the empty ones, and he orders the servants to light them
all at dusk."

"I am rather surprised that you manage to keep your servants," I said,
laughing. "The maids in these parts are a superstitious class, and
their imaginations are easily excited by anything which they don't
understand."

"The cook and both housemaids are from London, and are used to our
ways. We pay them on a very high scale to make up for any inconvenience
to which they may be put. Israel Stakes, the coachman, is the only one
who comes from this part of the country, and he seems to be a stolid,
honest fellow, who is not easily scared."

"Poor little girl," I exclaimed, looking down at the slim, graceful
figure by my side. "This is no atmosphere for you to live in. Why
will you not let me rescue you from it? Why won't you allow me to go
straight and ask the general for your hand? At the worst he could only
refuse."

She turned quite haggard and pale at the very thought.

"For Heaven's sake, John," she cried earnestly, "do nothing of the
kind. He would whip us all away in the dead of the night, and within a
week we should be settling down again in some wilderness where we might
never have a chance of seeing or hearing from you again. Besides, he
never would forgive us for venturing out of the grounds."

"I don't think that he is a hard-hearted man," I remarked. "I have
seen a kindly look in his eyes, for all his stern face."

"He can be the kindest of fathers," she answered. "But he is terrible
when opposed or thwarted. You have never seen him so, and I trust you
never will. It was that strength of will and impatience of opposition
which made him such a splendid officer. I assure you that in India
every one thought a great deal of him. The soldiers were afraid of him,
but they would have followed him anywhere."

"And had he these nervous attacks then?"

"Occasionally, but not nearly so acutely. He seems to think that the
danger--whatever it may be--becomes more imminent every year. Oh, John,
it is terrible to be waiting like this with a sword over our heads--and
all the more terrible to me since I have no idea where the blow is to
come from."

"Dear Gabriel," I said, taking her hand and drawing her to my side,
"look over all this pleasant countryside and the broad blue sea. Is it
not all peaceful and beautiful? In these cottages, with their red-tiled
roofs peeping out from the grey moor, there live none but simple,
God-fearing men, who toil hard at their crafts and bear enmity to no
man. Within seven miles of us is a large town, with every civilised
appliance for the preservation of order. Ten miles farther there is a
garrison quartered, and a telegram would at any time bring down a
company of soldiers. Now, I ask you, dear, in the name of common-sense,
what conceivable danger could threaten you in this secluded
neighbourhood, with the means of help so near? You assure me that the
peril is not connected with your father's health?"

"No, I am sure of that. It is true that Dr. Easterling, of Stranraer.
has been over to see him once or twice, but that was merely for some
small indisposition. I can assure you that the danger is not to be
looked for in that direction."

"Then I can assure you," said I, laughing, "that there is no danger at
all. It must be some strange monomania or hallucination. No other
hypothesis will cover the facts."

"Would my father's monomania account for the fact of my brother's hair
turning grey and my mother wasting away to a mere shadow?"

"Undoubtedly," I answered, "The long continued worry of the general's
restlessness and irritability would produce those effects on sensitive
natures."

"No, no!" said she, shaking her head sadly, "I have been exposed to
his restlessness and irritability, but they have had no such effect upon
me. The difference between us lies in the fact that they know this
awful secret and I do not."

"My dear girl," said I, "the days of family apparitions and that kind
of thing are gone. Nobody is haunted nowadays, so we can put that
supposition out of the question. Having done so, what remains? There
is absolutely no other theory which could even be suggested. Believe
me, the whole mystery is that the heat of India has been too much for
your poor father's brain."

What she would have answered I cannot tell, for at that moment she gave
a start as if some sound had fallen upon her ear. As she looked round
apprehensively, I suddenly saw her features become rigid and her eyes
fixed and dilated.

Following the direction of her gaze, I felt a sudden thrill of fear pass
through me as I perceived a human face surveying us from behind one of
the trees--a man's face, every feature of which was distorted by the
most malignant hatred and anger. Finding himself observed, he stepped
out and advanced towards us, when I saw that it was none other than the
general himself. His beard was all a-bristle with fury, and his deepset
eyes glowed from under their heavily veined lids with a most sinister
and demoniacal brightness.

CHAPTER VI

HOW I CAME TO BE ENLISTED AS ONE OF THE
GARRISON OF CLOOMBER

"To your room, girl!" he cried in a hoarse, harsh voice, stepping in
between us and pointing authoritatively towards the house.

He waited until Gabriel, with a last frightened glance at me, had
passed through the gap, and then he turned upon me with an expression so
murderous that I stepped back a pace or two, and tightened my grasp upon
my oak stick.

"You-you--" he spluttered, with his hand twitching at his throat, as
though his fury were choking him. "You have dared to intrude upon my
privacy! Do you think I built this fence that all the vermin in the
country might congregate round it? Oh, you have been very near your
death, my fine fellow! You will never be nearer until your time comes.
Look at this!" he pulled a squat, thick pistol out of his bosom. "If
you had passed through that gap and set foot on my land I'd have let
daylight into you. I'll have no vagabonds here. I know how to treat
gentry of that sort, whether their faces are black or white."

"Sir," said I, "I meant no harm by coming here, and I do not know how
I have deserved this extraordinary outburst. Allow me to observe,
however, that you are still covering me with your pistol, and that, as
your hand is rather tremulous, it is more than possible that it may go
off. If you don't turn the muzzle down I shall be compelled in
self-defence to strike you over the wrist with my stick."

"What the deuce brought you here, then?" he asked, in a more composed
voice, putting his weapon back into his bosom. "Can't a gentleman live
quietly without your coming to peep and pry? Have you no business of
your own to look after, eh? And my daughter? how came you to know
anything of her? and what have you been trying to squeeze out of her?
It wasn't chance that brought you here."

"No," said I boldly, "it was not chance which brought me here. I have
had several opportunities of seeing your daughter and of appreciating
her many noble qualities. We are engaged to be married to each other,
and I came up with the express intention of seeing her."

Instead of blazing into a fury, as I had expected, the general gave a
long whistle of astonishment, and then leant up against the railings,
laughing softly to himself.

"English terriers are fond of nosing worms," he remarked at last.
"When we brought them out to India they used to trot off into the jungle
and begin sniffing at what, they imagined to be worms there. But the
worm turned out to be a venomous snake, and so poor doggy played no
more. I think you'll find yourself in a somewhat analogous position if
you don't look out."

"You surely don't mean to cast an aspersion upon your own daughter?" I
said, flushing with indignation.

"Oh, Gabriel is all right," he answered carelessly. "Our family is not
exactly one, however, which I should recommend a young fellow to marry
into. And pray how is it that I was not informed of this snug little
arrangement of yours?"

"We were afraid, sir, that you might separate us," I replied, feeling
that perfect candour was the best policy under the circumstances. "It
is possible that we were mistaken. Before coming to any final decision,
I implore you to remember that the happiness of both of us is at stake.
It is in your power to divide our bodies, but our souls shall be for
ever united."

"My good fellow," said the general, in a not unkindly tone, "you don't
know what you are asking for. There is a gulf between you and any one
of the blood of Heatherstone which can never be bridged over."

All trace of anger had vanished now from his manner, and given place to
an air of somewhat contemptuous amusement.

My family pride took fire at his words. "The gulf may be less than you
imagine," I said coldly. "We are not clodhoppers because we live in
this out-of-the-way place. I am of noble descent on one side, and my
mother was a Buchan of Buchan, I assure you that there is no such
disparity between us as you seem to imagine."

"You misunderstand me," the general answered. "It is on our side that
the disparity lies. There are reasons why my daughter Gabriel should
live and die single. It would not be to your advantage to marry her."

"But surely, sir," I persisted, "I am the best judge of my own
interests and advantages. Since you take this ground all becomes easy,
for I do assure you that the one interest which overrides all others is
that I should have the woman I love for my wife. If this is your only
objection to our match you may surely give us your consent, for any
danger or trial which I may incur in marrying Gabriel will not weigh
with me one featherweight."

"Here's a young bantam!" exclaimed the old soldier, smiling at my
warmth. "It's easy to defy danger when you don't know what the danger
is."

"What is it, then?" I asked, hotly. "There is no earthly peril which
will drive me from Gabriel's side. Let me know what it is and test me."

"No, no. That would never do," he answered with a sigh, and then,
thoughtfully, as if speaking his mind aloud: "He has plenty of pluck and
is a well-grown lad, too. We might do worse than make use of him."

He went on mumbling to himself with a vacant stare in his eyes as if
he had forgotten my presence.

"Look here, West," he said presently. "You'll excuse me if I spoke
hastily a little time ago. It is the second time that I have had
occasion to apologise to you for the same offence. It shan't occur
again. I am rather over-particular, no doubt, in my desire for complete
isolation, but I have good reasons for insisting on the point. Rightly
or wrongly, I have got it into my head that some day there might be an
organised raid upon my grounds. If anything of the sort should occur I
suppose I might reckon upon your assistance?"

"With all my heart."

"So that if ever you got a message such as 'Come up,' or even
'Cloomber,' you would know that it was an appeal for help, and
would hurry up immediately, even if it were in the dead of the night?"

"Most certainly I should," I answered. "But might I ask you what the
nature of the danger is which you apprehend?"

"There would be nothing gained by your knowing. Indeed, you would
hardly understand it if I told you. I must bid you good day now, for I
have stayed with you too long. Remember, I count upon you as one of the
Cloomber garrison now."

"One other thing, sir," I said hurriedly, for he was turning away,"
I hope that you will not be angry with your daughter for anything which
I have told you. It was for my sake that she kept it all secret from
you."

"All right," he said, with his cold, inscrutable smile. "I am not such
an ogre in the bosom of my family as you seem to think. As to this
marriage question, I should advise you as a friend to let it drop
altogether, but if that is impossible I must insist that it stand
over completely for the present. It is impossible to say what
unexpected turn events may take. Good-bye."

He plunged into the wood and was quickly out of sight among the dense
plantation.

Thus ended this extraordinary interview, in which this strange man had
begun by pointing a loaded pistol at my breast and had ended, by
partially acknowledging the possibility of my becoming his future son-
in-law. I hardly knew whether to be cast down or elated over it.

On the one hand he was likely, by keeping a closer watch over his
daughter, to prevent us from communicating as freely as we had done
hitherto. Against this there was the advantage of having obtained
an implied consent to the renewal of my suit at some future date. On
the whole, I came to the conclusion as I walked thoughtfully home that I
had improved my position by the incident.

But this danger--this shadowy, unspeakable danger--which appeared to
rise up at every turn, and to hang day and night over the towers of
Cloomber! Rack my brain as I would, I could not conjure up any solution
to the problem which was not puerile and inadequate.

One fact struck me as being significant. Both the father and the son
had assured me, independently of each other, that if I were told what
the peril was, I would hardly realise its significance. How strange and
bizarre must the fear be which can scarcely be expressed in intelligible
language!

I held up my hand in the darkness before I turned to sleep that night,
and I swore that no power of man or devil should ever weaken my love for
the woman whose pure heart I had had the good fortune to win.

CHAPTER VII

OF CORPORAL RUFUS SMITH AND HIS COMING TO CLOOMBER

In making this statement I have purposely couched it in bald and
simple language, for fear I should be accused of colouring my narrative
for the sake of effect. If, however, I have told my story with any
approach to realism, the reader will understand me when I say that by
this time the succession of dramatic incidents which had occurred had
arrested my attention and excited my imagination to the exclusion of all
minor topics.

How could I plod through the dull routine of an agent's work, or
interest myself in the thatch of this tenant's bothy or the sails of
that one's boat, when my mind was taken up by the chain of events which
I have described, and was still busy seeking an explanation for them.

Go where I would over the countryside, I could see the square, white
tower shooting out from among the trees, and beneath that tower this
ill-fated family were watching and waiting, waiting and watching--and
for what? That was still the question which stood like an impassable
barrier at the end of every train of thought.

Regarded merely as an abstract problem, this mystery of the Heatherstone
family had a lurid fascination about it, but when the woman whom I loved
a thousandfold better than I did myself proved to be so deeply
interested in the solution, I felt that it was impossible to turn my
thoughts to anything else until it had been finally cleared up.

My good father had received a letter from the laird, dated from Naples,
which told us that he had derived much benefit from the change, and that
he had no intention of returning to Scotland for some time. This was
satisfactory to all of us, for my father had found Branksome such an
excellent place for study that it would have been a sore trial to
him to return to the noise and tumult of a city. As to my dear sister
and myself, there were, as I have shown, stronger reasons still to make
us love the Wigtownshire moors.

In spite of my interview with the general--or perhaps I might say on
account of it--I took occasion at least twice a day to walk towards
Cloomber and satisfy myself that all was well there. He had begun by
resenting my intrusion, but he had ended by taking me into a sort of
half-confidence, and even by asking my assistance, so I felt that I
stood upon a different footing with him than I had done formerly, and
that he was less likely to be annoyed by my presence. Indeed, I met
him pacing round the inclosure a few days afterwards, and his manner
towards me was civil, though he made no allusion to our former
conversation.

He appeared to be still in an extreme state of nervousness, starting
from time to time, and gazing furtively about him, with little
frightened, darting glances to the right and the left. I hoped that his
daughter was right in naming the fifth of October as the turning
point of his complaint, for it was evident to me as I looked at his
gleaming eyes and quivering hands, that a man could not live
long in such a state of nervous tension.

I found on examination that he had had the loose rails securely
fastened so as to block up our former trysting-place, and though I
prowled round the whole long line of fencing, I was unable to find any
other place where an entrance could be effected.

Here and there between the few chinks left in the barrier I could
catch glimpses of the Hall, and once I saw a rough-looking, middle-aged
man standing at a window on the lower floor, whom I supposed to be
Israel Stakes, the coachman. There was no sign, however, of Gabriel or
of Mordaunt, and their absence alarmed me. I was convinced that, unless
they were under some restraint, they would have managed to communicate
with my sister or myself. My fears became more and more acute as day
followed day without our seeing or hearing anything of them.

One morning--it was the second day of October--I was walking towards
the Hall, hoping that I might be fortunate enough to learn some news of
my darling, when I observed a man perched upon a stone at the side of
the road.

As I came nearer to him I could see that he was a stranger, and from
his dusty clothes and dilapidated appearance he seemed to have come from
a distance. He had a great hunch of bread on his knee and a clasp-knife
in his hand, but he had apparently just finished his breakfast, for he
brushed the crumbs off his lap and rose to his feet when he perceived
me.

Noticing the great height of the fellow and that he still held his
weapon, I kept well to the other side of the road, for I knew that
destitution makes men desperate and that the chain that glittered on my
waistcoat might be too great a temptation to him upon this lonely
highway. I was confirmed in my fears when I saw him step out into the
centre of the road and bar my progress.

"Well, my lad," I said, affecting an ease which I by no means felt,
"what can I do for you this morning?"

The fellow's face was the colour of mahogany with exposure to the
weather, and he had a deep scar from the corner of his mouth to his ear,
which by no means improved his appearance. His hair was grizzled, but
his figure was stalwart, and his fur cap was cocked on one side so as to
give him a rakish, semi-military appearance. Altogether he gave
me the impression of being one of the most dangerous types of tramp that
I had ever fallen in with.

Instead of replying to my question, he eyed me for some time in
silence with sullen, yellow-shot eyes, and then closed his knife with a
loud snick.

"You're not a beak," he said, "too young for that, I guess. They had
me in chokey at Paisley and they had me in chokey at Wigtown, but by the
living thunder if another of them lays a hand on me I'll make him
remember Corporal Rufus Smith! It's a darned fine country this, where
they won't give a man work, and then lay him by the heels for having no
visible means of subsistence."

"I am sorry to see an old soldier so reduced," said I. "What corps
did you serve in?"

"H Battery, Royal Horse Artillery. Bad cess to the Service and every
one in it! Here I am nigh sixty years of age, with a beggarly pension
of thirty-eight pound ten--not enough to keep me in beer and baccy."

"I should have thought thirty-eight pound ten a year would have been a
nice help to you in your old age," I remarked.

"Would you, though?" he answered with a sneer, pushing his weather-
beaten face forward until it was within a foot of my own.

"How much d'ye think that slash with a tulwar is worth? And my foot
with all the bones rattling about like a bagful of dice where the trail
of the gun went across it. What's that worth, eh? And a liver like a
sponge, and ague whenever the wind comes round to the east--what's the
market value of that? Would you take the lot for a dirty forty pound a
year--would you now?"

"We are poor folk in this part of the country," I answered. "You would
pass for a rich man down here."

"They are fool folk and they have fool tastes," said he, drawing a
black pipe from his pocket and stuffing it with tobacco. "I know what
good living is, and, by cripes! while I have a shilling in my pocket I
like to spend it as a shilling should be spent. I've fought for my
country and my country has done darned little for me. I'll go to the
Rooshians, so help me! I could show them how to cross the Himalayas so
that it would puzzle either Afghans or British to stop 'em. What's that
secret worth in St. Petersburg, eh, mister?"

"I am ashamed to hear an old soldier speak so, even in jest," said I
sternly.

"Jest, indeed!" He cried, with a great, roaring oath. "I'd have done
it years ago if the Rooshians had been game to take it up. Skobeloff
was the best of the bunch, but he's been snuffed out. However, that's
neither here nor there. What I want to ask you is whether you've ever
heard anything in this quarter of a man called Heatherstone, the same
who used to be colonel of the 41st Bengalis? They told me at Wigtown
that he lived somewhere down this way."

"He lives in that large house over yonder," said I, pointing to
Cloomber Tower. "You'll find the avenue gate a little way down the
road, but the general isn't over fond of visitors."

The last part of my speech was lost upon Corporal Rufus Smith; for the
instant that I pointed out the gate he set off hopping down the road.

His mode of progression was the most singular I have ever seen, for He
would only put his right foot to the ground once in every half-dozen
strides, while he worked so hard and attained such a momentum with the
other limb that he got over the ground at an astonishing speed.

I was so surprised that I stood in the roadway gazing after this
hulking figure until the thought suddenly struck me that some serious
result might come from a meeting between a man of such blunt speech and
the choleric, hot-headed general. I therefore followed him as he hopped
along like some great, clumsy bird, and overtook him at the avenue gate,
where he stood grasping the ironwork and peering through at the dark
carriage-drive beyond.

"He's a sly old jackal," he said, looking round at me and nodding his
head in the direction of the Hall. "He's a deep old dog. And that's
his bungalow, is it, among the trees?"

"That is his house," I answered; "but I should advise you to keep a
more civil tongue in your head if you intend to speak with the general.
He is not a man to stand any nonsense."

"Right you are. He was always a hard nut to crack. But isn't this him
coming down the avenue?"

I looked through the gate and saw that it was indeed the general, who,
having either seen us or been attracted by our voices, was hurrying down
towards us. As he advanced he would stop from time to time and peer at
us through the dark shadow thrown by the trees, as if he were irresolute
whether to come on or no.

"He's reconnoitering!" whispered my companion with a hoarse chuckle.
"He's afraid--and I know what he's afraid of. He won't be caught in a
trap if he can help it, the old 'un. He's about as fly as they make
'em, you bet!"

Then suddenly standing on his tip-toes and waving his hand through the
bars of the gate, he shouted at the top of his voice:

"Come on, my gallant commandant! Come on! The coast's clear, and no
enemy in sight."

This familiar address had the effect of reassuring the general, for he
came right for us, though I could tell by his heightened colour that his
temper was at boiling point.

"What, you here, Mr. West?" he said, as his eye fell upon me. "What is
it you want, and why have you brought this fellow with you?"

"I have not brought him with me, sir," I answered, feeling rather
disgusted at being made responsible for the presence of the
disreputable-looking vagabond beside me. "I found him on the road here,
and he desired to be directed to you, so I showed him the way. I know
nothing of him myself."

"What do you want with me, then?" the general asked sternly, turning
to my companion.

"If you please, sir," said the ex-corporal, speaking in a whining
voice, and touching his moleskin cap with a humility which contrasted
strangely with the previous rough independence of his bearing, "I'm an
old gunner in the Queen's service, sir, and knowing your name by hearing
it in India I thought that maybe you would take me as your groom or
gardener, or give me any other place as happened to be vacant."

"I am sorry that I cannot do anything for you, my man," the old
soldier answered impressively.

"Then you'll give me a little just to help me on my way, sir," said he
cringing mendicant. "You won't see an old comrade go to the bad for the
sake of a few rupees? I was with Sale's brigade in the Passes, sir, and
I was at the second taking of Cabul."

General Heatherstone looked keenly at the supplicant, but was silent
to his appeal.

"I was in Ghuznee with you when the walls were all shook down by an
earthquake, and when we found forty thousand Afghans within gunshot of
us. You ask me about it, and you'll see whether I'm lying or not. We
went through all this when we were young, and now that we are old you
are to live in a fine bungalow, and I am to starve by the roadside. It
don't seem to me to be fair."

"You are an impertinent scoundrel," said the general. "If you had been
a good soldier you would never need to ask for help. I shall not give
you a farthing."

"One word more, sir," cried the tramp, for the other was turning away,
"I've been in the Tarada Pass."

The old soldier sprang round as if the words had been a pistol-shot.

"What--what d'ye mean?" he stammered. "I've been in the Tarada Pass,
sir, and I knew a man there called Ghoolab Shah."

These last were hissed out in an undertone, and a malicious grin
overspread the face of the speaker.

Their effect upon the general was extraordinary. He fairly staggered
back from the gateway, and his yellow countenance blanched to a livid,
mottled grey. For a moment he was too overcome to speak. At last he
gasped out:

"Ghoolab Shah' Who are you who know Ghoolab Shah?"

"Take another look," said the tramp, "your sight is not as keen as it
was forty years ago."

The general took a long, earnest look at the unkempt wanderer in front
of him, and as he gazed I saw the light of recognition spring up in his
eyes.

"God bless my soul!" he cried. "Why, it's Corporal Rufus Smith."

"You've come on it at last," said the other, chuckling to himself.
"I was wondering how long it would be before you knew me. And, first of
all, just unlock this gate, will you? It's hard to talk through a
grating. It's too much like ten minutes with a visitor in the cells."

The general, whose face still bore evidences of his agitation, undid
the bolts with nervous, trembling fingers. The recognition of Corporal
Rufus Smith had, I fancied, been a relief to him, and yet he plainly
showed by his manner that he regarded his presence as by no means an
unmixed blessing.

"Why, Corporal," he said, as the gate swung open, "I have often
wondered whether you were dead or alive, but I never expected to see you
again. How have you been all these long years?"

"How have I been?" the corporal answered gruffly. "Why, I have been
drunk for the most part. When I draw my money I lay it out in liquor,
and as long as that lasts I get some peace in life. When I'm cleaned
out I go upon tramp, partly in the hope of picking up the price of a
dram, and partly in order to look for you."

"You'll excuse us talking about these private matters, West," the
general said, looking round at me, for I was beginning to move away.
"Don't leave us. You know something of this matter already, and may
find yourself entirely in the swim with us some of these days."

Corporal Rufus Smith looked round at me in blank astonishment.

"In the swim with us?" he said. "However did he get there?"

"Voluntarily, voluntarily," the general explained, hurriedly sinking
his voice. "He is a neighbour of mine, and he has volunteered his help
in case I should ever need it."

This explanation seemed, if anything, to increase the big stranger's
surprise.

"Well, if that don't lick cock-fighting!" he exclaimed, contemplating
me with admiration. "I never heard tell of such a thing."

"And now you have found me, Corporal Smith," said the tenant of
Cloomber, "what is it that you want of me?"

"Why, everything. I want a roof to cover me, and clothes to wear, and
food to eat, and, above all, brandy to drink."

"Well, I'll take you in and do what I can for you," said the general
slowly. "But look here, Smith, we must have discipline. I'm the general
and you are the corporal; I am the master and you are the man. Now,
don't let me have to remind you of that again."

The tramp drew himself up to his full height and raised his right hand
with the palm forward in a military salute.

"I can take you on as gardener and get rid of the fellow I have got.
As to brandy, you shall have an allowance and no more. We are not deep
drinkers at the Hall."

"Don't you take opium, or brandy, or nothing yourself, sir?" asked
Corporal Rufus Smith.

"Nothing," the general said firmly.

"Well, all I can say is, that you've got more nerve and pluck than I
shall ever have. I don't wonder now at your winning that Cross in the
Mutiny. If I was to go on listening night after night to them things
without ever taking a drop of something to cheer my heart--why, it would
drive me silly."

General Heatherstone put his hand up, as though afraid that his
companion might say too much.

"I must thank you, Mr. West," he said, "for having shown this man my
door. I would not willingly allow an old comrade, however humble, to go
to the bad, and if I did not acknowledge his claim more readily
it was simply because I had my doubts as to whether he was really what
he represented himself to be. Just walk up to the Hall, Corporal, and I
shall follow you in a minute."

"Poor fellow!" he continued, as he watched the newcomer hobbling up
the avenue in the ungainly manner which I have described. "He got a gun
over his foot, and it crushed the bones, but the obstinate fool would
not let the doctors take it off. I remember him now as a smart young
soldier in Afghanistan. He and I were associated in some queer
adventures, which I may tell you of some day, and I naturally feel
sympathy towards him, and would befriend him. Did he tell you
anything about me before I came?"

"Not a word," I replied.

"Oh," said the general carelessly, but with an evident expression of
relief, "I thought perhaps he might have said something of old times.
Well, I must go and look after him, or the servants will be frightened,
for he isn't a beauty to look at. Good-bye!"

With a wave of the hand the old man turned away from me and hurried up
the drive after this unexpected addition to his household, while I
strolled on round the high, black paling, peering through every chink
between the planks, but without seeing a trace either of Mordaunt or of
his sister.

I have now brought this statement down to the coming of Corporal Rufus
Smith, which will prove to be the beginning of the end.

I have set down soberly and in order the events which brought us to
Wigtownshire, the arrival of the Heatherstones at Cloomber, the many
strange incidents which excited first our curiosity and finally our
intense interest in that family, and I have briefly touched upon
the circumstances which brought my sister and myself into a closer and
more personal relationship with them. I think that there cannot be a
better moment than this to hand the narrative over to those who had
means of knowing something of what was going on inside Cloomber during
the months that I was observing it from without.

Israel Stakes, the coachman, proved to be unable to read or write, but
Mr. Mathew Clark, the Presbyterian Minister of Stoneykirk, has copied
down his deposition, duly attested by the cross set opposite to his
name. The good clergyman has, I fancy, put some slight polish upon the
narrator's story, which I rather regret, as it might have been more
interesting, if less intelligible, when reported verbatim. It still
preserves, however, considerable traces of Israel's individuality, and
may be regarded as an exact record of what he saw and did while in
General Heatherstone's service.

CHAPTER VIII

STATEMENT OF ISRAEL STAKES

[Copied and authenticated by the Reverend Mathew Clark, Presbyterian
Minister of Stoneykirk, in Wigtownshire]

Maister Fothergill West and the meenister say that I maun tell all I can
aboot General Heatherstone and his hoose, but that I maunna say muckle
aboot mysel' because the readers wouldna care to hear aboot me or my
affairs. I am na sae sure o' that, for the Stakes is a family weel
kenned and respecked on baith sides o' the Border, and there's mony
in Nithsdale and Annandale as would be gey pleased to hear news o' the
son o' Archie Stakes, o' Ecclefechan.

I maun e'en do as I'm tauld, however, for Mr. West's sake, hoping he'll
no forget me when I chance to hae a favour tae ask.[1] I'm no able tae
write mysel' because my feyther sent me oot to scare craws instead o'
sendin' me tae school, but on the ither hond he brought me up in the
preenciples and practice o' the real kirk o' the Covenant, for which
may the Lord be praised!

It way last May twel'month that the factor body, Maister McNeil, cam
ower tae me in the street and speered whether I was in want o' a place
as a coachman and gairdner. As it fell oot I chanced tae be on the look
oot for something o' the sort mysel' at the time, but I wasna ower quick
to let him see that I wanted it.

"Ye can tak it or leave it," says he sharp like. "It's a guid place,
and there's mony would be glad o't. If ye want it ye can come up tae my
office at twa the morn and put your ain questions tae the gentleman."

That was a' I could get frae him, for he's a close man and a hard one at
a bargain--which shall profit him leetle in the next life, though he lay
by a store o' siller in this. When the day comes there'll be a hantle
o' factors on the left hand o' the throne, and I shouldna be surprised
if Maister McNeil found himsel' amang them.

Weel, on the morn I gaed up to the office and there I foond the factor
and a lang, thin, dour man wi' grey hair and a face as brown and
crinkled as a walnut. He looked hard at me wi' a pair o' een that
glowed like twa spunks, and then he says, says he:

"You've been born in these pairts, I understan'?"

"Aye," says I, "and never left them neither."

"Never been oot o' Scotland?" he speers.

"Twice to Carlisle fair," says I, for I am a man wha loves the truth;
and besides I kenned that the factor would mind my gaeing there, for I
bargained fur twa steers and a stirk that he wanted for the stockin' o'
the Drumleugh Fairm.

"I learn frae Maister McNeil," says General Heatherstone--for him it was
and nane ither--"that ye canna write."

"Na," says I.

"Nor read?"

"Na," says I.

"It seems tae me," says he, turnin' tae the factor, "that this is the
vera man I want. Servants is spoilt noo-a-days," says he, "by ower
muckle eddication. I hae nae doobt, Stakes, that ye will suit me well
enough. Ye'll hae three pund a month and a' foond, but I shall resairve
the right o' givin' ye twenty-four hoors' notice at any time. How will
that suit ye?"

"It's vera different frae my last place," says I, discontented-like.

And the words were true enough, for auld Fairmer Scott only gave me a
pund a month and parritch twice a day.

"Weel, weel," says he, "maybe we'll gie ye a rise if ye suit. Meanwhile
here's the han'sel shillin' that Maister McNeil tells me it's the custom
tae give, and I shall expec' tae see ye at Cloomber on Monday."

When the Monday cam roond I walked oot tae Cloomber, and a great muckle
hoose it is, wi' a hunderd windows or mair, and space enough tae hide
awa' half the parish.

As tae gairdening, there was no gairden for me tae work at, and the
horse was never taken oot o' the stables frae week's end tae week's
end. I was busy enough for a' that, for there was a deal o' fencing tae
be put up, and one thing or anither, forbye cleanin' the knives and
brushin' the boots and such-like jobs as is mair fit for an auld wife
than for a grown man.

There was twa besides mysel' in the kitchen, the cook Eliza, and Mary
the hoosemaid, puir, benighted beings baith o' them, wha had wasted a'
their lives in London, and kenned leetle aboot the warld or the ways o'
the flesh.

I hadna muckle tae say to them, for they were simple folk who could
scarce understand English, and had hardly mair regard for their ain
souls than the tods on the moor. When the cook said she didna think
muckle o' John Knox, and the ither that she wouldna give saxpence tae
hear the discourse o' Maister Donald McSnaw o' the true kirk, I kenned
it was time for me tae leave them tae a higher Judge.

There was four in family, the general, my leddy, Maister Mordaunt, and
Miss Gabriel, and it wasna long before I found that a' wasna just
exactly as it should be. My leddy was as thin and as white as a ghaist,
and many's the time as I've come on her and found her yammerin' and
greetin' all by hersel'. I've watched her walkin' up and doon in the
wood where she thought nane could see her and wringin' her honds like
one demented.

There was the young gentleman, tae, and his sister--they baith seemed to
hae some trouble on their minds, and the general maist of a', for the
ithers were up ane day and down anither; but he was aye the same, wi' a
face as dour and sad as a felon when he feels the tow roond his neck.

I speered o' the hussies in the kitchen whether they kenned what was
amiss wi' the family, but the cook she answered me back that it wasna
for her tae inquire into the affairs o' her superiors, and that it was
naething to her as long as she did her work and had her wages.
They were puir, feckless bodies, the twa o' them, and would scarce gie
an answer tae a ceevil question, though they could clack lood eneugh
when they had a mind.

Weel, weeks passed into months and a' things grew waur instead o' better
in the Hall. The general he got mair nairvous, and his leddy mair
melancholy every day, and yet there wasna any quarrel or bickering
between them, for when they've been togither in the breakfast room I
used often tae gang round and prune the rose-tree alongside o' the
window, so that I couldna help hearin' a great pairt o' their
conversation, though sair against the grain.

When the young folk were wi' them they would speak little, but when they
had gone they would aye talk as if some waefu' trial ere aboot to fa'
upon them, though I could never gather from their words what it was
that they were afeared o'.

I've heard the general say mair than ance that he wasna frighted o'
death, or any danger that he could face and have