The Disentanglers Part 46

'Dod, man, aw 'm the lad that'll lairn ye the p.r.o.noonciation,' said Logan, and he was going.

'Wait,' said Merton, 'sign me a paper giving me leave to treat about the ransom. And promise that, if I don't reappear by the eleventh, you won't negotiate at all.'

'Not likely I will,' said Logan.

Merton lay in bed inventing imaginary dialogues to be rendered into Scots as occasion served. Presently Logan brought him a little book named _Mansie Waugh_.

'That is our lingo here,' he said; and Merton studied the work carefully, marking some phrases with a pencil.

In about an hour Logan reported that the detectives were at work in the secret pa.s.sage. The lesson in the Scots of the Lothians began, accompanied by sounds of m.u.f.fled laughter. Not for two or three centuries can the turret chamber at Kirkburn have heard so much merriment.

The afternoon pa.s.sed in this course of instruction. Merton was a fairly good mimic, and Logan felt at last that he could not readily be detected for an Englishman. Six o'clock had scarcely struck when Mrs. Bower's grandson was ushered into the bedroom. The exchange of clothes took place, Merton dressing as the young Bower undressed. The detectives, who had found nothing, were being entertained by Mrs. Bower at dinner.

'I know how the trap in the secret pa.s.sage is worked,' said Merton, 'but you keep them hunting for it.'

Had the worthy detectives been within earshot the yells of laughter echoing in the turret as the men dressed must have suggested strange theories to their imaginations.

'Larks!' said Merton, as he blackened his face with coal dust.

Dismissing young Bower, who was told to wait in the hall, Merton made his final arrangements. 'You will communicate with me under cover to Trevor,' he said. He took a curious mediaeval ring that he always wore from his ringer, and tied it to a piece of string, which he hung round his neck, tucking all under his s.h.i.+rt. Then he arranged his thick comforter so as to hide the back of his head and neck (he had bitten his nails and blackened them with coal).

'Logan, I only want a bottle of whisky, the cork drawn and loose in the bottle, and a few dirty Scotch one pound notes; and, oh! has Mrs. Bower a pack of cards?'

Having been supplied with these properties, and said farewell to Logan, Merton stole downstairs, walked round the house, entered the kitchen by the back door, and said to Mrs. Bower, 'Grannie, I maun be ganging.'

'My grandson, gentlemen,' said Mrs. Bower to the detectives. Then to her grandson, she remarked, 'Hae, there's a jeely piece for you'; and Merton, munching a round of bread covered with jam, walked down the steep avenue.

He knew the house he was to enter, the gardener's lodge, and also that he was to approach it by the back way, and go in at the back door. The inmates expected him and understood the scheme; presently he went out by the door into the village street, still munching at his round of bread.

To such lads and la.s.sies as hailed him in the waning light he replied gruffly, explaining that he had 'a sair hoast,' that is, a bad cough, from which he had observed that young Bower was suffering. He was soon outside of the village, and walking at top speed towards the station.

Several times he paused, in shadowy corners of the hedges, and listened.

There was no sound of pursuing feet. He was not being followed, but, of course, he might be dogged at the station. The enemy would have their spies there: if they had them in the village his disguise had deceived them. He ran, whenever no pa.s.ser-by was in sight; through the villages he walked, whistling 'Wull ye no come back again!' He reached the station with three minutes to spare, took a third-cla.s.s ticket, and went on to the platform. Several people were waiting, among them four or five rough-looking miners, probably spies. He strolled towards the end of the platform, and when the train entered, leaped into a third-cla.s.s carriage which was nearly full. Turning at the door, he saw the rough customers making for the same carriage. 'Come on,' cried Merton, with a slight touch of intoxication in his voice; 'come on billies, a' freens here!'

and he cast a glance of affection behind him at the other occupants of the carriage. The roughs pressed in.

'I won't have it,' cried a testy old gentleman, who was economically travelling by third-cla.s.s, 'there are only three seats vacant. The rest of the train is nearly empty. Hi, guard! station-master, hi!'

'A' _freens_ here,' repeated Merton stolidly, taking his whisky bottle from his greatcoat pocket. Two of the roughs had entered, but the guard persuaded the other two that they must bestow themselves elsewhere. The old gentleman glared at Merton, who was standing up, the cork of the bottle between his teeth, as the train began to move. He staggered and fell back into his seat.

'We are na fou, we're no _that_ fou,'

Merton chanted, directing his speech to the old gentleman,

'But just a wee drap in oor 'ee!'

'The curse of Scotland,' muttered the old gentleman, whether with reference to alcohol or to Robert Burns, is uncertain.

'The Curse o' Scotland,' said Merton, 'that's the nine o' diamonds. I hae the cairts on me, maybe ye'd take a hand, sir, at Beggar ma Neebour, or Catch the Ten? Ye needna be feared, a can pay gin I lose.' He dragged out his cards, and a handful of silver.

The rough customers between whom Merton was sitting began to laugh hoa.r.s.ely. The old gentleman frowned.

'I shall change my carriage at the next station,' he said, 'and I shall report you for gambling.'

'A' freens!' said Merton, as if horrified by the austere reception of his cordial advances. 'Wha's gaumlin'? We mauna play, billies, till he's gane. An unco pernicketty auld carl, thon ane,' he remarked, _sotto voce_. 'But there's naething in the Company's by-laws again refraishments,' Merton added. He uncorked his bottle, made a pretence of sucking at it, and pa.s.sed it to his neighbours, the rough customers. They imbibed with freedom.

The carriage was very dark, the lamp 'moved like a moon in a wane,' as Merton might have quoted in happier circ.u.mstances. The rough customers glared at him, but his cap had a peak, and he wore his comforter high.

'Man, ye're the kind o' lad I like,' said one of the rough customers.

'A' freens!' said Merton, again applying himself to the bottle, and pa.s.sing it. 'Ony ither gentleman tak' a sook?' asked Merton, including all the pa.s.sengers in his hospitable glance. 'Nane o' ye dry?

'Oh! fill yer ain gla.s.s, And let the jug pa.s.s, Hoo d'ye ken but yer neighbour's dry?'

Merton carolled.

'Thon's no a Scotch lilt,' remarked one of the roughs.

'A ken it's Irish,' said Merton. 'But, billie, the whusky's Scotch!'

The train slowed and the old gentleman got out. From the platform he stormed at Merton.

'Ye're no an awakened character, ma freend,' answered Merton. 'Gude nicht to ye! Gie ma love to the gude wife and the weans!'

The train pursued her course.

'Aw 'm saying, billie, aw 'm saying,' remarked one of the roughs, thrusting his dirty beard into Merton's face.

'Weel, _be_ saying,' said Merton.

'You're no Lairdie Bower, ye ken, ye haena the neb o' him.'

'And wha the deil said a _was_ Lairdie Bower? Aw 'm a Lanerick man.

Lairdie's at hame wi' a sair hoast,' answered Merton.

'But ye're wearing Lairdie Bower's auld big coat.'

'And what for no? Lairdie has anither coat, a brawer yin, and he lent me the auld yin because the nichts is cauld, and I hae a hoast ma'sel! Div _ye_ ken Lairdie Bower? I've been wi' his auld faither and the la.s.ses half the day, but speakin's awfu' dry work.'

Here Merton repeated the bottle trick, and showed symptoms of going to sleep, his head rolling on to the shoulder of the rough.

'Haud up, man!' said the rough, withdrawing the support.

'A' freens here,' remarked Merton, drawing a dirty clay pipe from his pocket. 'Hae ye a s.p.u.n.k?'

The rough provided him with a match, and he killed some time, while Preston Pans was pa.s.sed, in filling and lighting his pipe.

'Ye're a Lanerick man?' asked the inquiring rough.

'Ay, a Hamilton frae Moss End. But I'm taking the play. Ma auld t.i.ttie has dee'd and left me some siller,' Merton dragged a handful of dirty notes out of his trousers pocket. 'I've been to see the auld Bowers, but Lairdie was on the s.h.i.+ft.'

'And ye're ganging to Embro?'