John Burnet of Barns: A Romance

by John Buchan

  CHAPTER III

  THE HOUSE WITH THE CHIPPED GABLES

  The next morn the weather had changed. When I looked forth through thelatticed panes to the street, it was a bleak scene that met myeyes--near a foot of snow, flakes tossing and whirling everywhere, andthe roofs and gables showing leaden dull in the gloom. Had I been inanother frame of mind I should have lost my spirits, for nothing sodisheartened me as heavy, dismal weather. But now I was in such atemper that I welcomed the outlook; the grey, lifeless street was akinto my heart, and I went down from my chamber with the iron of resolutionin my soul.

  My first care was to enquire at Mistress Macmillan if she knew aught ofmy cousin's doings, for the town-house of the Eaglesham Burnets was nottwo streets distant. But she could give me no news, for, said she,since the old laird died and these troublous times succeeded, it waslittle that the young master came near the place. So without any delayI and my servant went out into the wintry day, and found our way to theold, dark dwelling in the High Street.

  The house had been built near a hundred years before, in the time ofEphraim Burnet, my cousin's grandfather. I mind it well to this day,and oft as I think of the city, that dreary, ancient pile rises to fillmy vision. The three Burnet leaves, the escutcheon of our family, hungover the doorway. Every window was little and well-barred with iron,nor was any sign of life to be seen behind the dreary panes. But themost notable things to the eye were the odd crow-step gables, which, Iknow not from what cause, were all chipped and defaced, and had astrange, pied appearance against the darker roof. It faced the streetand down one side ran a little lane. Behind were many lesser buildingsaround the courtyard, and the back opened into a wynd which ran westwardto the city walls.

  I went up the steps and with my sword-hilt thundered on the door. Theblows roused the echoes of the old place. Within I heard the resonanceof corridor and room, all hollow and empty. Below me was the snowystreet, with now and then a single passer, and I felt an eerie awe ofthis strange house, as of one who should seek to force a vault of thedead.

  Again I knocked, and this time it brought me an answer. I heardfeet--slow, shuffling feet, coming from some room, and ascending thestaircase to the hall. The place was so void that the slightest soundrang loud and clear, and I could mark the progress of the steps fromtheir beginning. Somewhere they came to a halt, as if the person wereconsidering whether or not to come to the door, but by and by theyadvanced, and with vast creaking a key was fitted into the lock and thegreat oak door was opened a little.

  It was a little old woman who stood in the opening, with a face seamedand wrinkled, and not a tooth in her head. She wore a mutch, which gaveher a most witch-like appearance, and her narrow, grey eyes, as theyfastened on me and sought out my errand, did not reassure me.

  "What d'ye want here the day, sir?" she said in a high, squeaking voice."It's cauld, cauld weather, and my banes are auld and I canna stand herebidin' your pleesur."

  "Is your master within?" I said, shortly. "Take me to him, for I havebusiness with him."

  "Maister, quotha!" she screamed. "Wha d'ye speak o', young sir? Ifit's the auld laird ye mean, he's lang syne wi' his Makker, and theyoung yin has no been here thae fower years. He was a tenty bit lad,was Maister Gilbert, but he gaed aff to the wars i' the abroad and ne'erthinks o' returnin'. Wae's me for the puir, hapless cheil." And shecrooned on to herself in the garrulity of old age.

  "Tell me the truth," said I, "and have done with your lies. It is wellknown that your master came here in the last two days with two men and alady, and abode here for the night. Tell me instantly if he is stillhere or whither has he gone."

  She looked at me with a twinkle of shrewdness and then shook her headonce more. "Na, na, I'm no leein'. I'm ower neer my accoont wi' theLord to burden my soul wi' lees. When you tae are faun i' the hinnerend o' life, ye'll no think it worth your while to mak up leesomestories. I tell ye the young maister hasna been here for years, thoughit's blithe I wad be to see him. If ye winna believe my word, ye cane'en gang your ways."

  Now I was in something of a quandary. The woman looked to be speakingthe truth, and it was possible that my cousin could have left the cityon one side and pushed straight on to his house of Eaglesham or even tothe remoter western coast. Yet the way was a long one, and I saw nothow he could have refrained from halting at Glasgow in the even. He hadno cause to fear my following him there more than another place. Forthat I would come post-haste to the Westlands at the first word he musthave well known, and so he could have no reason in covering his tracksfrom me. He was over-well known a figure in his own countryside to makesecrecy possible; his aim must be to outrace me in speed, not to outwitme with cunning.

  "Let me gang, young sir," the old hag was groaning. "I've therheumaticks i' my banes and I'm sair hadden doon wi' the chills, andI'll get my death if I stand here longer."

  "I will trust you then," said I, "but since I am a kinsman of yourmaster's and have ridden far on a bootless errand, I will even come inand refresh myself ere I return."

  "Na, na," she said, a new look, one of anxiety and cunning coming intoher face, "ye maun na dae that. It was the last word my maister bade meere he gaed awa'. 'Elspeth,' says he, 'see ye let nane intil the hoosetill I come back.'"

  "Tut, tut, I am his own cousin. I will enter if I please," and callingmy servant, I made to force an admittance.

  Then suddenly, ere I knew, the great door was slammed in my face, and Icould hear the sound of a key turning and a bar being dropped.

  Here was a pretty to-do. Without doubt there was that in the housewhich the crone desired to keep from my notice. I sprang to the doorand thundered on it like a madman, wrestling with the lock, and callingfor the woman to open it. But all in vain, and after a few seconds'bootless endeavour, I turned ruefully to my servant.

  "Can aught be done?" I asked.

  "I saw a dyke as we cam here," said Nicol, "and ower the back o't was ayaird. There was likewise a gate i' the dyke. I'm thinkin' that'll bethe back door o' the hoose. If ye were awfu' determined, Laird, yemicht win in there."

  I thought for a moment. "You are right," I cried. "I know the place.But we will first go back and fetch the horses, for it is like therewill be wild work before us ere night."

  But lo and behold! when we went to the inn stable my horse was off. "Ithocht he needit a shoe," said the ostler, "so I just sent him doun toJock Walkinshaw's i' the East Port. If ye'll bide a wee, I'll send aladdie doun to bring him up."

  Five, twenty, sixty minutes and more we waited while that accursed childbrought my horse. Then he came back a little after midday; three shoeshad been needed, he said, and he had rin a' the way, and he wasna toblame. So I gave him a crown and a sound box on the ears, and then thetwo of us set off.

  The place was high and difficult of access, being in a narrow lane wherefew passers ever went, and nigh to the city wall. I bade Nicol hold thehorses, and standing on the back of one I could just come to within afew feet of the top. I did my utmost by springing upward to grasp theparapet, but all in vain, so in a miserable state of disappointed hopesI desisted and consulted with my servant. Together we tried the door,but it was of massive wood, clamped with iron, and triply bolted. Therewas nothing for it but to send off to Mistress Macmillan and seek somecontrivance. Had the day not been so wild and the lane so quiet wecould scarce have gone unnoticed. As it was, one man passed, a hawkerin a little cart, seeking a near way, and with little time to stare atthe two solitary horsemen waiting by the wall.

  Nicol went off alone, while I kept guard--an aimless guard--by the gate.In a little he returned with an old boat-hook, with the cleek at the endsomewhat unusually long. Then he proposed his method. I should standon horseback as before, and hang the hook on the flat surface of thewall. When, by dint of scraping, I had fixed it firmly, I should climbit hand over hand, as a sailor mounts a rope, and with a few pulls Imight hope to be at the summit.r />
  I did as he bade, and, with great labour, fixed the hook in the hardstone. Then I pulled myself up, very slowly and carefully, with theshaft quivering in my hands. I was just gripping the stone when thewretched iron slipped and rattled down to the ground, cutting me sharplyin the wrist. Luckily I did not go with it, for in the moment offalling, I had grasped the top and hung there with aching hands and theblood from the cut trickling down my arm. Then, with a mighty effort, Iswung myself up and stood safe on the top.

  Below me was a sloping roof of wood which ended in a sheer wall of maybetwelve feet. Below that in turn was the great yard, flagged with stone,but now hidden under a cloak of snow. Around it were stables, empty ofhorses, windy, cold, and dismal. I cannot tell how the whole placedepressed me. I felt as though I were descending into some pit of thedead.

  Staunching the blood from my wrist--by good luck my left--as best Imight with my kerchief, I slipped down the white roof and dropped intothe court. It was a wide, empty place, and, in the late afternoon,looked grey and fearsome. The dead black house behind, with its manywindows all shuttered and lifeless, shadowed the place like a pall. Atmy back was the back door of the house, like the other locked andiron-clamped. I seemed to myself to have done little good by myescapade in coming thither.

  Wandering aimlessly, I entered the stables, scarce thinking what I wasdoing. Something about the place made me stop and look. I rubbed myeyes and wondered. There, sure enough, were signs of horses having beenrecently here. Fresh hay and a few oats were in the mangers, and strawand dung in the stalls clearly proclaimed that not long agone the placehad been tenanted.

  I rushed out into the yard, and ran hither and thither searching theground. There were hoof-marks--fool that I was not to have marked thembefore--leading clearly from the stable door to the gate on the HighStreet. I rushed to the iron doors and tugged at them. To my amazementI found that they yielded, and I was staring into the darkening street.

  So the birds had been there and flown in our brief absence. I cursed myill-fortune with a bitter heart.

  Suddenly I saw something dark lying amid the snow. I picked it up andlaid it tenderly in my bosom. For it was a little knot of blue velvetribbon, such as my lady wore.