The Riddle of the Spinning Wheel Part 2

"Who is the gentleman of the axe, Miss Duggan?" said Cleek, turning toward her, his face alight with interest. "What a magnificent thing it is! And how he stands out against this Highland sky of yours--menacing, victorious, utterly sublime! Some ancestor, no doubt?"

"_The_ ancestor. The greatest of all that great line of Duggans, or _Mac_duggans, as it was then," she responded in a hushed, exultant voice. "Chief of the greatest and most powerful clan of all Scotland, in those days when Scotland was a country apart, and the Scottish chiefs were little kings in their own dominion, ruling in absolute monarchy over their subjects. Rhea du Macduggan. That was his name, Mr. Deland. A great and powerful and just man. And when this Castle was built over the spot where his camp had been in those by-gone glorious days, the Macduggan who had it built caused that statue to be erected, and had it wrought in finest bronze, to endure throughout the centuries. You can see for yourself how well Rhea has withstood the bludgeoning of time.

And, too, you may understand a little, at sight of him, what this place means to my brother and me, and how loath we are even to entertain the thought of letting it get out of the family."

"And is the estate not entailed?"

"Unfortunately not this portion of it. That part which follows the entail comprises a couple of the adjacent villages and a lot of farmsteads out there across the valley. But the Castle--no. In olden days each son of the family fought for it against the surviving holder of it, fought a personal battle of strength to prove himself worthy of it, and then, upon victory--or proved worthiness--the will was made. The line has never been broken, Mr. Deland. And to-day my brother and I are as willing to fight for it as were our ancestors of old."

"And I don't blame you, either," said Cleek with alacrity, sighing a little, as though some thought of all this magnificence awakened an echo in his heart that would not immediately be stilled. "I know a little of that feeling, too. When a man loves his ancestral home, and his country, he will fight for it and die for it rather than that an alien hand shall take possession of either. That is the gift of Race, the inherent something that Family breeds in us. The clans.h.i.+p which belongs to an old and unbroken line. I know--I know.... Heigho! But it is an inheritance indeed. I am more in sympathy with you than ever before, Miss Duggan, for I, too, would fight for this against the hand of an enemy, and die fighting rather than that it should slip out of my reach.... And you mean to tell me that your brother Ross has installed electric lighting _here_?"

She smiled a little, and nodded her head as one might smile at thought of some child's deliciously childish and foolish action. One could see that she wors.h.i.+pped her brother.

"Yes, Mr. Deland. A complete installation, which is both the envy and the desire of every other landowner for miles around."

"And why the envy, may I ask?"

"Because the fortunes of many are lower than ours. The Duggans were always the wealthiest clan in this part of the country. The other clans were poor. They are still poor. And we, too, are poorer than we were.

The land takes nearly all our income to wrest something from its wildness besides the heather and the stretches of gorse-covered moor. We herd the flocks on those parts, Mr. Deland, but cultivation of the rest is very difficult. It is too wild, too barren. And the other big houses are indeed envious of our wonderful lighting arrangements. It has been the root of much friendly quarrelling among us. But the villagers are _terrified_!"

"I can well understand that--in this uncivilized quarter," put in Cleek with a smile. "Many, I have no doubt, still use the old rushlight of former days.... Ah, here is the village. My man and I had better put up at the local hotel, Miss Duggan, as a couple of fishermen-- I'll be bound your salmon is wonderful in these parts, and I for one love the sport--and then we can effect an introduction by the aid of our mutual friend, Miss Lorne, and perhaps to-morrow I might be permitted to call upon you. How does that satisfy your mind?"

She put out a hand to him with an impetuosity that was foreign to her.

"It satisfies me splendidly. You are more than kind to take such an interest. Put up at the Three Fishers, by all means, Mr. Deland. The landlord is a kindly soul, and will give you every attention, I know.

And then, if you will be good enough, call to-morrow morning--unless I have to send for you before then. And if so, how shall I do that?"

The hack drew up in front of the Inn of the Three Fishers and Cleek and Dollops dismounted, the latter entering the inn with their baggage, while Cleek stood at the side of the carriage, leaning over the edge of it to speak to its sole occupant. Beyond him, directly opposite to them, the village street broke off into a slope that led down into the valley, rock-bound and lichened over with heather-bells and the outstretched arms of p.r.i.c.kly gorse-bushes. While on an adjacent hill directly in front and rising out of the valley itself up a steep mountainside stood Aygon Castle, its many windows commanding a distant view of the village, and practically upon a level with it, so that some of those same windows faced upon those of the inn, with the street and then the valley and the hillside on which it stood between.

Cleek waved a hand toward it now.

"Which is your own window?" he asked softly.

She pointed. "Fourth from the left. That tall, narrowish slit-like one.

It has mullioned panes--see? There are only three others like that on this side. The fourth from the left is mine. Why?"

"Because," said Cleek meaningly, "if you want me, put a light in that window--a red light, for preference, as at this distance it would be easier to see. And light and re-light it three times. I shall be on the watch. And if not I, my man Dollops. Until to-morrow morning, when I shall call. Remember--three times, if you want me, and I shall come immediately--in my professional guise or not, as you like. And keep up your heart, Miss Duggan. Things may not be as black as you think. Fourth from the left, isn't it?"

"Fourth from the left. How kind you are! I shall never be able to thank you for all your interest. And I have a little disused bicycle lamp in my cupboard. It has a red slide. I will flash that--if I need you.

Good-bye."

"Good-bye," said Cleek, smiling, and standing bareheaded in the early morning suns.h.i.+ne.

The carriage drove on up the hill, turning at the corner and winding down again into the valley, and from the outer wall of the street upon the opposite side one could watch its progress as one watched the movements of a fly upon an adjacent bank. Cleek crossed the road and stopped there, head bent, arms folded upon the low stone top of the wall. Round along the tortuous hill road it went creeping along, at an incredibly slow pace it seemed from his position above it, on and on and on into the valley, and then up, up, up, the opposite hillside, through bushes and shrubs that screened it now and again from view, and betwixt immense boulders, until eventually it came abreast of the huge wrought-iron gates of the place and pa.s.sed between them out of sight.

And as it disappeared Cleek turned upon his heel with a deep-drawn sigh.

"Gad! what an inheritance!" he mentally commented as he crossed the road and entered the portals of the inn itself. "Enough to fight for, indeed!

Mr. Narkom, old friend, this is one of those subtle things which your middle-cla.s.s upbringing could never understand. One of those things which belong to the few and the chosen. Heigho! And Esau bartered his birthright for a mess of pottage. She'd fight for it--and so would I! A nice girl--hysterical, high-strung, but full of the pride of race. The fourth window from the left, she said. I'll put Dollops on the job, while I snoop around a bit for myself, and see how the land lies. Mine host might possibly put me wise to a good deal, as our American cousins say."

So he strolled into the bar-parlour, and ordered a tankard of ale, and over it made the acquaintance of that particular specimen of rugged Scotch manhood who was for the time being to be his host.

"Fine views in these parts," said he, conversationally, and in the man-of-the-world-tourist-idiot voice which he affected upon occasions.

"My man and myself want to put up here for the fis.h.i.+n', doncherknow. You can fix us in all right, I suppose?"

"Cairtainly, sair. Therre's plainty of rume in th' Three Fishairs,"

responded Mr. Fairnish, with a smile of welcome, and in that inimitable accent which is Scotland's own, and which rings like rugged music upon the ear of the stranger to those parts. "We've a nice bedroom facin' th'

Castle. It'll be a grrand view in the mornin' wi' yer tea. And yer man--we'll find him a shake-down nearr-by, if ye so wish ut."

Cleek liked on sight this genial host with his mellow accent.

"Well, I'd prefer for him to be within reachin' distance of me, doncherknow," he said, with an inane grin into the red-whiskered countenance, blue-eyed and lined with exposure to wind and weather, that glowed above him.

"Cairtainly. If ye weesh it; Mrs. Fairnish will show ye yer rume, and anything ye may want----"

Cleek raised a detaining hand.

"Please don't be in any hurry," he said pleasantly. "I've all day here before me. Come down to do a bit of fis.h.i.+n', doncherknow. Fine sport in these parts, they tell me. And that's Aygon Castle, is it? I know the young lady, Miss Duggan, slightly. Grand place it looks, to be sure."

Mr. Fairnish raised his eyes ceilingwards. His hands followed them.

"It's a heavenly spot indeed," he said piously, as one might speak of some religious place of wors.h.i.+p. "One of the grrandest in our whole country, sair. You'll be visitin' there, no doubt?"

"Oh, possibly. A friendly call, doncherknow. What's the old chap like who owns it?"

Mr. Fairnish cast a hurried look on either side of him. The canny Scot showed uppermost in his visage. But the coast was clear. Only a boy of ten or twelve played at the other end of the bar with a roughly made engine of wood, dragging it to and fro over the tiled floor.

"Sair Andrew's a harrd mon--a dour, harrd mon is Sair Andrew," he said in a low, harsh voice, and with a wrinkling of face muscles which spoke volumes. "I wudner cross his path unless I could help it. Harrd, sair, harrd as nails. And wi' a grrasp on him for every penny!"

"Oho!" said Cleek in two different tones. "Mean, is he?"

"Mean wi' ye call it? Mean? There's no worrd ter expraiss what Sair Andrew is at all. Not in the language, sair. But he's got a fine bailiff ter manage th' land, and 'tis wi' him the people deal. Not wi' Sair Andrew. Mistair Tavish, now--he's a fine chap, wi' a greeat hearrt an' a helpin' hand for aiverybody. Mistair Tavish, now, he's a gentleman, sair. Not a block er grranite, like th' old landlorrd!"

Cleek smiled. So even in these rocky fastnesses of the silent Highlands a man liked his bit of gossip, and loosened his tongue to pa.s.s the time of day with every stranger.

"Very interesting, Mr.----"

"Fairnish, Robairt Fairnish."

"Mr. Fairnish. And what about the rest of the family? Mean also?"

"Aw no, sair. Not Mistair Ross, at any rate, nor Miss Duggan, either,"

supplemented Mr. Fairnish, lighting his pipe with one h.o.r.n.y hand and leaning out over the bar the better to address Cleek. "Another ale, sair?--cairtainly. Mr. Ross, now. A fine fellow, in spite of his strrange ways and his wonderful apparatus. He's lit th' whole Castle with electricity, sair; and Sair Andrew has no got ovair the effect o'

it yet. He does nought but grrumble and growl at Mistair Ross for th'

expainse and th' noosence of it, until, so I haird, th' Castle be no pleasant spot to live in. And his wife, Lady Paula Duggan----"

Mr. Fairnish raised his hands and eyes in a very expressive gesture.

"You don't like the lady of the Castle, then, Mr. Fairnish?" interposed Cleek, tossing off his ale and setting the empty tankard down upon the bar in front of him.