by John Buchan
CHAPTER IX
THE FIRST BATTLE OF THE CRUIVES
The old keep of Huntingtower stood some three hundred yards from theedge of the cliffs, a gnarled wood of hazels and oaks protecting it fromthe sea-winds. It was still in fair preservation, having till twentyyears before been an adjunct of the house of Dalquharter, and used askitchen, buttery and servants' quarters. There had been residentialwings attached, dating from the mid-eighteenth century, but these hadbeen pulled down and used for the foundations of the new mansion. Now itstood a lonely shell, its three storeys, each a single great roomconnected by a spiral stone staircase, being dedicated to lumber and thestorage of produce. But it was dry and intact, its massive oak doorsdefied any weapon short of artillery, its narrow unglazed windows wouldscarcely have admitted a cat--a place portentously strong, gloomy, butyet habitable.
Dougal opened the main door with a massy key. "The lassie fund it," hewhispered to Dickson, "somewhere about the kitchen--and I guessed it wasthe key o' this castle. I was thinkin' that if things got ower hot itwould be a good plan to flit here. Change our base, like." TheChieftain's occasional studies in war had trained his tongue to amilitary jargon.
In the ground room lay a fine assortment of oddments, including oldbedsteads and servants' furniture, and what looked like ancientdiscarded deer-skin rugs. Dust lay thick over everything, and they heardthe scurry of rats. A dismal place, indeed, but Dickson felt only itsstrangeness. The comfort of being back again among allies had quickenedhis spirit to an adventurous mood. The old lords of Huntingtower hadonce quarrelled and revelled and plotted here, and now here he was atthe same game. Present and past joined hands over the gulf of years. Thesaga of Huntingtower was not ended.
The Die-Hards had brought with them their scanty bedding, their lanternsand camp kettles. These and the provisions from Mearns Street werestowed away in a corner.
"Now for the Hoose, men," said Dougal. They stole over the downs to theshrubbery, and Dickson found himself almost in the same place as he hadlain in three days before, watching a dusky lawn, while the wet earthsoaked through his trouser knees and the drip from the azaleas trickledover his spine. Two of the boys fetched the ladder and placed it againstthe verandah wall. Heritage first, then Dickson darted across the lawnand made the ascent. The six scouts followed, and the ladder was pulledup and hidden among the verandah litter. For a second the whole eightstood still and listened. There was no sound except the murmur of thenow falling wind and the melancholy hooting of owls. The garrison hadentered the Dark Tower.
A council in whispers was held in the garden room.
"Nobody must show a light," Heritage observed. "It mustn't be known thatwe're here. Only the Princess will have a lamp. Yes"--this in answer toDickson, "she knows that we're coming--you too. We'll hunt for quarterslater upstairs. You scouts, you must picket every possible entrance. Thewindows are safe, I think, for they are locked from the inside. So isthe main door. But there's the verandah door, of which they have a key,and the back door beside the kitchen, and I'm not at all sure thatthere's not a way in by the boiler-house. You understand. We're holdingthis place against all comers. We must barricade the danger points. Theheadquarters of the garrison will be in the hall, where a scout must bealways on duty. You've all got whistles? Well, if there's an attempt onthe verandah door the picket will whistle once, if at the back doortwice, if anywhere else three times, and it's everybody's duty, exceptthe picket who whistles, to get back to the hall for orders."
"That's so," assented Dougal.
"If the enemy forces an entrance we must overpower him. Any means youlike. Sticks or fists, and remember that if it's a scrap in the darkmake for the man's throat. I expect you little devils have eyes likecats. The scoundrels must be kept away from the ladies at all costs. Ifthe worst comes to the worst, the Princess has a revolver."
"So have I," said Dickson. "I got it in Glasgow."
"The deuce you have! Can you use it?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you can hand it over to me, if you like. But it oughtn't to cometo shooting, if it's only the three of them. The eight of us should beable to manage three and one of them lame. If the others turn up--well,God help us all! But we've got to make sure of one thing, that no onelays hands on the Princess so long as there's one of us left alive tohit out."
"Ye needn't be feared for that," said Dougal. There was no light in theroom, but Dickson was certain that the morose face of the Chieftain waslit with unholy joy.
"Then off with you. Mr. McCunn and I will explain matters to theladies."
When they were alone, Heritage's voice took a different key. "We're infor it, Dogson, old man. There's no doubt these three scoundrels expectreinforcements at any moment, and with them will be one who is the devilincarnate. He's the only thing on earth that that brave girl fears. Itseems he is in love with her and has pestered her for years. She hatedthe sight of him, but he wouldn't take no, and being a powerfulman--rich and well-born and all the rest of it--she had a desperatetime. I gather he was pretty high in favour with the old Court. Thenwhen the Bolsheviks started he went over to them, like plenty of othergrandees, and now he's one of their chief brains--none of your callowrevolutionaries, but a man of the world, a kind of genius, she says, whocan hold his own anywhere. She believes him to be in this country, andonly waiting the right moment to turn up. Oh, it sounds ridiculous, Iknow, in Britain in the twentieth century, but I learned in the war thatcivilisation anywhere is a very thin crust. There are a hundred ways bywhich that kind of fellow could bamboozle all our law and police andspirit her away. That's the kind of crowd we have to face."
"Did she say what he was like in appearance?"
"A face like an angel--a lost angel, she says."
Dickson suddenly had an inspiration.
"D'you mind the man you said was an Australian--at Kirkmichael? Ithought myself he was a foreigner. Well, he was asking for a place hecalled Darkwater, and there's no sich place in the countryside. Ibelieve he meant Dalquharter. I believe he's the man she's feared of."
A gasped "By Jove!" came from the darkness. "Dogson, you've hit it. Thatwas five days ago, and he must have got on the right trail by this time.He'll be here to-night. That's why the three have been lying so quietto-day. Well, we'll go through with it, even if we haven't a dog'schance. Only I'm sorry that you should be mixed up in such a hopelessbusiness."
"Why me more than you?"
"Because it's all pure pride and joy for me to be here. Good God, Iwouldn't be elsewhere for worlds. It's the great hour of my life. Iwould gladly die for her."
"Tuts, that's no' the way to talk, man. Time enough to speak about dyingwhen there's no other way out. I'm looking at this thing in a businessway. We'd better be seeing the ladies."
They groped into the pitchy hall, somewhere in which a Die-Hard was onpicket, and down the passage to the smoking-room. Dickson blinked in thelight of a very feeble lamp and Heritage saw that his hands werecumbered with packages. He deposited them on a sofa and made a duckingbow.
"I've come back, Mem, and glad to be back. Your jools are in safekeeping, and not all the blagyirds in creation could get at them. I'vecome to tell you to cheer up--a stout heart to a stey brae, as the oldfolk say. I'm handling this affair as a business proposition, so don'tbe feared, Mem. If there are enemies seeking you, there's friends on theroad too.... Now, you'll have had your dinner, but you'd maybe like alittle dessert."
He spread before them a huge box of chocolates, the best that MearnsStreet could produce, a box of candied fruits, and another of saltedalmonds. Then from his hideously overcrowded pockets he took anotherbox, which he offered rather shyly. "That's some powder for yourcomplexion. They tell me that ladies find it useful whiles."
The girl's strained face watched him at first in mystification, and thenbroke slowly into a smile. Youth came back to it, the smile changed to alaugh, a low rippling laugh like far-away bells. She took both hishands.
"You are kind," she said, "you are kind
and brave. You are a de-ar."
And then she kissed him.
Now, as far as Dickson could remember, no one had ever kissed him excepthis wife. The light touch of her lips on his forehead was like thepressing of an electric button which explodes some powerful charge andalters the face of a countryside. He blushed scarlet; then he wanted tocry; then he wanted to sing. An immense exhilaration seized him, and Iam certain that if at that moment the serried ranks of Bolshevism hadappeared in the doorway, Dickson would have hurled himself upon themwith a joyful shout.
Cousin Eugenie was earnestly eating chocolates, but Saskia had otherbusiness.
"You will hold the house?" she asked.
"Please God, yes," said Heritage. "I look at it this way. The time isvery near when your three gaolers expect the others, their masters. Theyhave not troubled you in the past two days as they threatened, becauseit was not worth while. But they won't want to let you out of theirsight in the final hours, so they will almost certainly come here to beon the spot. Our object is to keep them out and confuse their plans.Somewhere in this neighbourhood, probably very near, is the man you fearmost. If we nonplus the three watchers, they'll have to revise theirpolicy, and that means a delay, and every hour's delay is a gain. Mr.McCunn has found out that the factor Loudon is in the plot, and he haspurchase enough, it seems, to blanket for a time any appeal to the law.But Mr. McCunn has taken steps to circumvent him, and in twenty-fourhours we should have help here."
"I do not want the help of your law," the girl interrupted. "It willentangle me."
"Not a bit of it," said Dickson cheerfully. "You see, Mem, they've cleanlost track of the jools, and nobody knows where they are but me. I'm atruthful man, but I'll lie like a packman if I'm asked questions. Forthe rest, it's a question of kidnapping, I understand, and that's athing that's not to be allowed. My advice is to go to our beds and get alittle sleep while there's a chance of it. The Gorbals Die-Hards aregrand watch-dogs."
This view sounded so reasonable that it was at once acted upon. Theladies' chamber was next door to the smoking-room--what had been the oldschoolroom. Heritage arranged with Saskia that the lamp was to be keptburning low, and that on no account were they to move unless summoned byhim. Then he and Dickson made their way to the hall, where there was afaint glimmer from the moon in the upper unshuttered windows--enough toreveal the figure of Wee Jaikie on duty at the foot of the staircase.They ascended to the second floor, where, in a large room above thehall, Heritage had bestowed his pack. He had managed to open a fold ofthe shutters, and there was sufficient light to see two big mahoganybedsteads without mattresses or bedclothes, and wardrobes and chests ofdrawers sheeted in holland. Outside the wind was rising again, but therain had stopped. Angry watery clouds scurried across the heavens.
Dickson made a pillow of his waterproof, stretched himself on one of thebedsteads and, so quiet was his conscience and so weary his body fromthe buffetings of the past days, was almost instantly asleep. It seemedto him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when he was awakened byDougal's hand pinching his shoulder. He gathered that the moon wassetting, for the room was pitchy dark.
"The three o' them is approachin' the kitchen door," whispered theChieftain. "I seen them from a spy-hole I made out o' a ventilator."
"Is it barricaded?" asked Heritage, who had apparently not been asleep.
"Ay, but I've thought o' a far better plan. Why should we keep them out?They'll be safer inside. Listen! We might manage to get them in one at atime. If they can't get in at the kitchen door, they'll send one o' themround to get in by another door and open to them. That gives us a chanceto get them separated, and lock them up. There's walth o' closets andhidy-holes all over the place, each with good doors and good keys tothem. Supposin' we get the three o' them shut up--the others, when theycome, will have nobody to guide them. Of course some time or other thethree will break out, but it may be ower late for them. At present we'rebesieged and they're roamin' the country. Would it no' be far better ifthey were the ones lockit up and we were goin' loose?"
"Supposing they don't come in one at a time?" Dickson objected.
"We'll make them," said Dougal firmly. "There's no time to waste. Are yefor it?"
"Yes," said Heritage. "Who's at the kitchen door?"
"Peter Paterson. I told him no' to whistle, but to wait on me.... Keepyour boots off. Ye're better in your stockin' feet. Wait you in the halland see ye're well hidden, for likely whoever comes in will have alantern. Just you keep quiet unless I give ye a cry. I've planned it a'out, and we're ready for them."
Dougal disappeared, and Dickson and Heritage, with their boots tiedround their necks by their laces, crept out to the upper landing. Thehall was impenetrably dark, but full of voices, for the wind was talkingin the ceiling beams, and murmuring through the long passages. The wallscreaked and muttered and little bits of plaster fluttered down. Thenoise was an advantage for the game of hide-and-seek they proposed toplay, but it made it hard to detect the enemy's approach. Dickson, inorder to get properly wakened, adventured as far as the smoking-room. Itwas black with night, but below the door of the adjacent room a faintline of light showed where the Princess's lamp was burning. He advancedto the window, and heard distinctly a foot on the gravel path that ledto the verandah. This sent him back to the hall in search of Dougal,whom he encountered in the passage. That boy could certainly see in thedark, for he caught Dickson's wrist without hesitation.
"We've got Spittal in the wine-cellar," he whispered triumphantly. "Thekitchen door was barricaded, and when they tried it, it wouldn't open.'Bide here,' says Dobson to Spittal, 'and we'll go round by another doorand come back and open to ye.' So off they went, and by that time PeterPaterson and me had the barricade down. As we expected, Spittal triedthe key again and it opens quite easy. He comes in and locks it behindhim, and, Dobson having took away the lantern, he gropes his way verycarefu' towards the kitchen. There's a point where the wine-cellar doorand the scullery door are aside each other. He should have taken thesecond, but I had it shut so he takes the first. Peter Paterson gave hima wee shove and he fell down the two-three steps into the cellar, and weturned the key on him. Yon cellar has a grand door and no windies."
"And Dobson and Leon are at the verandah door? With a light?"
"Thomas Yownie's on duty there. Ye can trust him. Ye'll no fickle ThomasYownie."
The next minutes were for Dickson a delirium of excitement notunpleasantly shot with flashes of doubt and fear. As a child he hadplayed hide-and-seek, and his memory had always cherished the delightsof the game. But how marvellous to play it thus in a great empty house,at dark of night, with the heaven filled with tempest, and with death orwounds as the stakes!
He took refuge in a corner where a tapestry curtain and the side of aDutch awmry gave him shelter, and from where he stood he could see thegarden-room and the beginning of the tiled passage which led to theverandah door. That is to say, he could have seen these things if therehad been any light, which there was not. He heard the soft flitting ofbare feet, for a delicate sound is often audible in a din when a loudnoise is obscured. Then a gale of wind blew towards him, as from an opendoor, and far away gleamed the flickering light of a lantern.
Suddenly the light disappeared and there was a clatter on the floor anda breaking of glass. Either the wind or Thomas Yownie.
The verandah door was shut, a match spluttered and the lantern wasrelit. Dobson and Leon came into the hall, both clad in longmackintoshes which glistened from the weather. Dobson halted andlistened to the wind howling in the upper spaces. He cursed it bitterly,looked at his watch, and then made an observation which woke theliveliest interest in Dickson lurking beside the awmry and Heritageensconced in the shadow of a window-seat.
"He's late. He should have been here five minutes syne. It would be adirty road for his car."
So the Unknown was coming that night. The news made Dickson the moreresolved to get the watchers under lock and key before reinforcementsarrived, and so put g
rit in their wheels. Then his party mustescape--flee anywhere so long as it was far from Dalquharter.
"You stop here," said Dobson, "I'll go down and let Spidel in. We wantanother lamp. Get the one that the women use and for God's sake get amove on."
The sound of his feet died in the kitchen passage and then rung againon the stone stairs. Dickson's ear of faith heard also the soft patterof naked feet as the Die-Hards preceded and followed him. He wasdelivering himself blind and bound into their hands.
For a minute or two there was no sound but the wind, which had found aloose chimney cowl on the roof and screwed out of it an odd sound likethe drone of a bagpipe. Dickson, unable to remain any longer in oneplace, moved into the centre of the hall, believing that Leon had goneto the smoking-room. It was a dangerous thing to do, for suddenly amatch was lit a yard from him. He had the sense to drop low, and so wasout of the main glare of the light. The man with the match apparentlyhad no more, judging by his execrations. Dickson stood stock still,longing for the wind to fall so that he might hear the sound of thefellow's boots on the stone floor. He gathered that they were movingtowards the smoking-room.
"Heritage," he whispered as loud as he dared, but there was no answer.
Then suddenly a moving body collided with him. He jumped a step back andthen stood at attention, "Is that you, Dobson?" a voice asked.
Now behold the occasional advantage of a nickname. Dickson thought hewas being addressed as "Dogson" after the Poet's fashion. Had he dreamedit was Leon he would not have replied, but fluttered off into theshadows and so missed a piece of vital news.
"Ay, it's me," he whispered.
His voice and accent were Scotch, like Dobson's, and Leon suspectednothing.
"I do not like this wind," he grumbled. "The Captain's letter said atdawn, but there is no chance of the Danish brig making your littleharbour in this weather. She must lie off and land the men by boats.That I do not like. It is too public."
The news--tremendous news, for it told that the new-comers would come bysea, which had never before entered Dickson's head--so interested himthat he stood dumb and ruminating. The silence made the Belgian suspect;he put out a hand and felt a waterproofed arm which might have beenDobson's. But the height of the shoulder proved that it was not theburly innkeeper. There was an oath, a quick movement, and Dickson wentdown with a knee on his chest and two hands at his throat.
"Heritage," he gasped. "Help!"
There was a sound of furniture scraped violently on the floor. A gurglefrom Dickson served as a guide, and the Poet suddenly cascaded over thecombatants. He felt for a head, found Leon's, and gripped the neck sosavagely that the owner loosened his hold on Dickson. The last-namedfound himself being buffeted violently by heavy-shod feet which seemedto be manoeuvring before an unseen enemy. He rolled out of the road andencountered another pair of feet, this time unshod. Then came a sound ofa concussion, as if metal or wood had struck some part of a human frame,and then a stumble and fall.
After that a good many things all seemed to happen at once. There was asudden light, which showed Leon blinking with a short loadedlife-preserver in his hand, and Heritage prone in front of him on thefloor. It also showed Dickson the figure of Dougal, and more than oneDie-Hard in the background. The light went out as suddenly as it hadappeared. There was a whistle, and a hoarse "Come on, men," and then fortwo seconds there was a desperate silent combat. It ended with Leon'shead meeting the floor so violently that its possessor became obliviousof further proceedings. He was dragged into a cubby-hole, which had oncebeen used for coats and rugs, and the door locked on him. Then the lightsprang forth again. It revealed Dougal and five Die-Hards, somewhat theworse for wear; it revealed also Dickson squatted with outspreadwaterproof very like a sitting hen.
"Where's Dobson?" he asked.
"In the boiler-house," and for once Dougal's gravity had laughter in it."Govey Dick! but yon was a fecht! Me and Peter Paterson and Wee Jaikiestarted it, but it was the whole company afore the end. Are ye better,Jaikie?"
"Ay, I'm better," said a pallid midget.
"He kickit Jaikie in the stomach and Jaikie was seeck," Dougalexplained. "That's the three accounted for. Now they're safe for fivehours at the least. I think mysel' that Dobson will be the first to getout, but he'll have his work letting out the others. Now, I'm forflittin' to the old Tower. They'll no ken where we are for a long time,and anyway yon place will be far easier to defend. Without they kindlea fire and smoke us out, I don't see how they'll beat us. Our provisionsare a' there, and there's a grand well o' water inside. Forbye there'sthe road down the rocks that'll keep our communications open.... Butwhat's come to Mr. Heritage?"
Dickson to his shame had forgotten all about his friend. The Poet layvery quiet with his head on one side and his legs crooked limply. Bloodtrickled over his eyes from an ugly scar on his forehead. Dickson felthis heart and pulse and found them faint but regular. The man had got aswinging blow and might have a slight concussion; for the present he wasunconscious.
"All the more reason why we should flit," said Dougal. "What d'ye say,Mr. McCunn?"
"Flit, of course, but further than the old Tower. What's the time?" Helifted Heritage's wrist and saw from his watch that it was half-pastthree. "Mercy! It's nearly morning. Afore we put these blagyirds away,they were conversing, at least Leon and Dobson were. They said that theyexpected somebody every moment, but that the car would be late. We'vestill got that Somebody to tackle. Then Leon spoke to me in the dark,thinking I was Dobson, and cursed the wind, saying it would keep theDanish brig from getting in at dawn as had been intended. D'you see whatthat means? The worst of the lot, the ones the ladies are in terror of,are coming by sea. Ay, and they can return by sea. We thought that theattack would be by land, and that even if they succeeded we could hangon to their heels and follow them, till we got them stopped. But that'simpossible! If they come in from the water, they can go out by thewater, and there'll never be more heard tell of the ladies or of you orme."
Dougal's face was once again sunk in gloom. "What's your plan, then?"
"We must get the ladies away from here--away inland, far from the sea.The rest of us must stand a siege in the old Tower, so that the enemywill think we're all there. Please God we'll hold out long enough forhelp to arrive. But we mustn't hang about here. There's the man Dobsonmentioned--he may come any second, and we want to be away first. Get theladder, Dougal.... Four of you take Mr. Heritage, and two come with meand carry the ladies' things. It's no' raining, but the wind's enough totake the wings off a seagull."
Dickson roused Saskia and her cousin, bidding them be ready in tenminutes. Then with the help of the Die-Hards he proceeded to transportthe necessary supplies--the stove, oil, dishes, clothes and wraps; morethan one journey was needed of small boys, hidden under clouds ofbaggage. When everything had gone he collected the keys, behind which,in various quarters of the house, three gaolers fumed impotently, andgave them to Wee Jaikie to dispose of in some secret nook. Then he ledthe two ladies to the verandah, the elder cross and sleepy, the youngeralert at the prospect of movement.
"Tell me again," she said. "You have locked all the three up, and theyare now the imprisoned?"
"Well, it was the boys that, properly speaking, did the locking up."
"It is a great--how do you say?--a turning of the tables. Ah--what isthat?"
At the end of the verandah there was a clattering down of pots whichcould not be due to the wind, since the place was sheltered. There wasstill only the faintest hint of light, and black night still lurked inthe crannies. Followed another fall of pots, as from a clumsy intruder,and then a man appeared, clear against the glass door by which the pathdescended to the rock garden.
It was the fourth man, whom the three prisoners had awaited. Dickson hadno doubt at all about his identity. He was that villain from whom allthe others took their orders, the man whom the Princess shuddered at.Before starting he had loaded his pistol. Now he tugged it from hiswaterproof pocket, pointed it at the
other and fired.
The man seemed to be hit, for he spun round and clapped a hand to hisleft arm. Then he fled through the door, which he left open.
Dickson was after him like a hound. At the door he saw him running andraised his pistol for another shot. Then he dropped it, for he sawsomething in the crouching, dodging figure which was familiar.
"A mistake," he explained to Jaikie when he returned. "But the shotwasn't wasted. I've just had a good try at killing the factor!"