Brothers & Sisters - John & Anna Buchan Edition (Collection of Their Greatest Works). Buchan John

drink to be had in this dam teetotal shop. Will ye no meet us in the Briar Bush the nicht? There’s mony a man in this toun wad be blithe to see J. Galt.”

      The ice was now broken, and for five minutes there was a well-informed discussion on the subtler aspects of Rugby football. Then Jaikie gently insinuated his own purpose. He wanted to find out who was living in the Hydropathic, and he did not want to trouble the higher functionaries.

      “Nae wonder,” said Wilkie. “There’s a pentit Jezebel in yon bewry that wad bite a body’s heid off.”

      Was there no one, Jaikie asked, no friend of his friends inside the building with whom he could have a friendly talk?

      “There’s Tam Grierson, the heid-porter,” he was told. “He’s a decent body, though he looks like a bubbly-jock. He’ll be comin’ off duty for his tea in ten minutes. He bides at the lodge ayont the big garage. I’ll tak ye doun and introduce ye. Tam will be set up to see ye, for he’s terrible keen on fitba.”

      So presently Jaikie found himself drinking tea with the resplendent personage, who had removed his braided frock-coat for comfort in his own dwelling. Mr Grierson off duty was the soul of friendliness. They spoke of the match, they spoke of Rugby heroes of old days. They spoke of Scotland’s chances against England. Then Jaikie introduced the subject of his quest. “There’s a man whose name I’m not very sure about,” he said, “something like Collins or Allen. My friend, with whom I’m on a walking tour, is anxious to know if he’s staying here.” He described in great detail the appearance of Mr Allins, his high colour, his pale eyes, his small yellow moustache.

      “Ho!” said the head-porter. “I ken him fine! He arrived last night. I don’t just mind his name. He’s a foreigner, anyway, though he speaks English. I heard him jabberin’ a foreign langwidge wi’ the others.”

      “What others?”

      “The other foreigners. There’s generally a lot o’ queer folk bidin’ in the Hydro, and a lot o’ them’s foreigners. But the ones I mean came by the London mail last night, and your freend arrived about dinner-time. He seemed to be very thick wi’ them. There’s seven o’ them a’thegither. Four has never stirred outbye the day. One gaed off in a cawr after lunch, and your freend and the other are down in Portaway. Ye can come back wi’ me and see if ye can get a glisk o’ them.”

      Presently the head-porter resumed his braided frock-coat, and, accompanied by Jaikie, returned to the scene of his labours, and incidentally to the grand manner. Jaikie was directed to an inconspicuous seat at the back of the porch, while the head-porter directed the activities of boots and waiters. At first there was a lull. The tea-drinkers had finished their meal and for the most part gone indoors, and on the broad sweep of gravel the dusk descended. The head-porter spared an occasional moment for conversation, but for the most part Jaikie was left to himself to smoke cigarettes and watch the lights spring out in the valley below.

      About half-past five the bustle began. The Hydropathic omnibuses began to roll up and discharge new guests, and they were followed by several taxi-cabs and one ancient four-wheeler. “It’s the train frae the south,” he was informed by Grierson, who was at once swept into a whirl of busyness. His barrack-room voice—he had once been a sergeant in the K.O.S.B.—echoed in porch and hall, and he had more than one distinguished passage of arms with a taxi-driver. Jaikie thought he had forgotten him, till suddenly he heard his hoarse whisper in his ear, “There’s your gentry,” and looked up to see two men entering the hotel.

      One was beyond doubt Sigismund Allins, the man whom Mr Craw had recognised yesterday in the Gledmouth motor, the man whom he himself had dined opposite at the Grey Goose Club. He was dressed in a golfing suit of crotal tweeds, and made an elegant symphony in brown. Jaikie’s eye passed to his companion, who was the more conspicuous figure. He was short and square and had a heavy shaven face and small penetrating eyes which were not concealed by his large glasses. He wore an ulster of a type rarely seen on these shores, and a small green hat pushed back from a broad forehead. As the light of the porch fell on him Jaikie had a sudden impression of an enormously vigorous being, who made Allins by his side seem like a wisp of straw.

      He had another impression. The two men were talking eagerly in a foreign tongue, and both seemed to be in a state of high excitement. Allins showed it by his twitching lips and nervous hands, the other by his quick purposeful stride and the way he stuck his chin forward. Within the last half-hour they had seen something which had strongly moved them.

      This was also the opinion of Grierson, delivered confidentially, as he superintended the moving of some baggage. “They maun hae been doun meetin’ the train,” he whispered, “and they’ve gotten either guid news or ill news.”

      There was no reason why he should stay longer, so Jaikie took his departure, after asking his friend the head-porter to keep an eye on the foreigners. “I’ve my reasons,” he said, “which I’ll tell you later. I’ll be up some time to-morrow to have another crack with you.”

      At the lodge-gates he encountered the man called Wilkie returning from the town. “How did ye get on wi’ Grierson? Fine? I thocht ye would. Tam’s a rale auld-fashioned character, and can be desperate thrawn if ye get the wrang side o’ him, but when he’s in gude fettle ye’ll no find a nicer man… I’ve been doun at the station. I wanted a word wi’ the Knockraw shover.”

      “Knockraw?”

      “Aye. The folk in Knockraw have hired twae cars from us for the month, but they brocht their ain shover wi’ them. A Frenchie. Weel, there was something wrong wi’ the clutch o’ ane o’ them, and they wrote in about it. I saw the cawr in the town, so I went to the station to speak to the man. He was meetin’ the express.”

      “Was he meeting anyone?”

      “Aye, a young lad cam off the train, a lang lad in a blue top-coat. The shover was in a michty hurry to get on the road and he wadna stop to speak to me—said he would come back the morn. At least, I think he said that, but his English is ill to follow.”

      “Did the new arrival speak to anyone at the station?”

      “No a word. He just banged into the cawr and off.”

      Jaikie, having a good deal to think about, walked slowly back to the Green Tree. Another Evallonian had arrived to join the Knockraw party. Allins and his friend had been at the station and must have seen him, but they had not accosted him. Was he wrong in his suspicions, and had Allins nothing to do with the Evallonians?… Yet the sight of something had put him and his companion into a state of profound excitement. The mystery was getting deeper.

      He purchased at the station copies of that day’s View and Wire as an offering for Mr Craw. He also ascertained from a porter, whom he had known of old, that a guest had arrived for Knockraw. “I should have cairried his bag, but yon foreign shover was waitin’ for him, and the twae were out o’ the station and into their cawr afore ye could blaw your nose. Ugh, man! since this damned election sterted Portaway’s been a fair penny waddin’. Half the folk that come here the noo should be in a menawgerie.”

      Mr Craw was seated by his bedroom fire, writing with great contentment. He announced that he also had been for a walk. Rather shamefacedly he confessed that he had wanted to taste a butter biscuit again, and had made his way to the baker’s shop. “They are quite as good as I thought,” he said. “I have kept two for you.”

      He had had an adventure in a small way, for he had seen Mr Allins. Alone, and wearing the russet clothes which Jaikie had observed at the Hydropathic. He had seen him coming up the Eastgate, and, remembering Jaikie’s caution, had retired down an alley, whence he had had a good view of him. There was no doubt on the matter; it was Sigismund Allins, the member of his secretariat.

      Jaikie presented him with the two papers and sat down to reflect. Suddenly he was startled by the sound which a small animal might make in heavy pain. Mr Craw was reading something in the Wire which made him whimper. He finished it, passed a hand over his brow, and let the paper fall to the ground.

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