“There’s only you and I that can do anything. The first thing is to get Casimir and his friends away from Knockraw.”
“That won’t be easy. They’re feeling too comfortable. You see, they’ve made a devout ally of Mr McCunn. Dougal brought him to Castle Gay because he thought he would talk sense to them—he said he was a typical Briton and would soon convince them that Britain wasn’t interested in their plans. Instead of that he has fallen completely under the spell of the Prince. He would talk about nothing else last night coming home—said it was a sin and a shame that such a fine lad should be kept from his rights by a wheen blue-spectacled dominies.” She gave a very good imitation of Dickson’s robust accents.
“Just what he’d do. He was always desperately romantic. I think Dougal must have taken leave of his senses. What does Dougal say about things?”
“Chiefly oaths,” said the girl. “He argues with Casimir and the Professor and makes no more impression than a toothpick on a brick wall. You might say that the situation at Castle Gay was out of hand. The question is, what are you and I going to do?”
The assumption of alliance warmed Jaikie’s heart.
“I must get somehow to Knockraw,” he said. “It had better be to-morrow morning early. There are six of the Republicans here, and this election has brought some queer characters into the town. You may be certain that they’re keeping a pretty good watch up the water. The first thing to make sure of is that the Prince does not stir out of doors. You must get Casimir on the telephone and put the fear of God into him about that. Pitch it high enough to scare him… Then you must meet me at Knockraw to-morrow morning. Say eight o’ clock. I can tell them all I know, and there’s a lot they can tell me that I don’t know. But they won’t believe me unless you’re there to back me up.”
He looked down to find a small dog standing on its hind legs with its paws on his arm.
“What’s that?” Alison asked.
“That’s Woolworth—the terrier I bought from the drover. I told you about him.”
The girl bent to fondle the dog’s head, upon which Woolworth laid muddy paws on the skirts of her coat. “He must be introduced to Tactful and Pensive,” she said. “He seems to belong to the same school of thought… I had better get back at once and alarm Knockraw… It’s all right. I usually leave my pony at the Green Tree, so there’s nothing unusual in my going there. But we’d better not arrive together.”
Jaikie, unwilling to leave her side, accompanied her as far as the Eastgate. But just before they reached it, he stopped short and whistled on Woolworth. He had seen Allins advancing towards them, and Allins had seen the girl. Apparently the latter desired to avoid a meeting, for he turned sharply and dived up a side street.
“What is it?” said Alison, who had been interrupted in the middle of a sentence.
“It’s Allins. He saw us both. That’s a pity. He and I are bound to have a meeting sooner or later, and I didn’t want him to connect me with Castle Gay.”
It was significant of Jaikie’s state of mind that, though he allowed five minutes to elapse between Alison’s entering the stable yard and his own approach to the inn, the first thing he did when he was inside the door was to rush to the staircase window, where he was rewarded by the sight of a slim figure on a black pony leaving the gate, pursued by Mrs Fairweather’s farewells.
As luck would have it the rain began after luncheon, and there was no temptation for Mr Craw to go out of doors. A fire was again lit in his bedroom, and Jaikie sought a bookseller’s and purchased him a selection of cheap reprints of the English classics, a gift which was received without gratitude.
“I have got fifty pounds for you,” he told him. “I saw Miss Westwater this morning.”
Mr Craw showed little interest. The mild satisfaction due to reading and re-reading his own article had ebbed, and he was clearly in a difficult temper.
“But she forgot to bring the clothes. I’m so sorry, Mr Craw, but I’m afraid you can’t go to London to-night.”
“I have no intention of going to London tonight,” was the cold answer.
Jaikie regarded him curiously. He thought he realised the reason for this change of purpose. The interview had awakened some long-dormant spirit in Mr Craw. He felt that he was being taken advantage of, that his household gods and his inner personality were being outraged, and he was determined to fight for them. That would have been all to the good four days ago, but now it was the very deuce. Jaikie did not dare to tell him the true story of the interview: the thought of Dickson, innocently masquerading as his august self, would only infuriate him. What he wanted was to get back to Castle Gay, and that at all costs must be prevented. So Jaikie imparted a little judicious information.
“I heard from Miss Westwater that Prince John of Evallonia arrived at Knockraw last night. They all went to dinner there to meet him.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Mr Craw. He was startled at last out of his dumps. “That is a terrible blunder—a terrible calamity. They won’t be able to keep his visit secret. I shall be credited—” His eyes told the kind of unpleasant thing with which he would be credited.
“Cheer up, sir,” said Jaikie. “We’ll find a way out. But you see how impossible it is for you to go to Castle Gay… And how important it is that nobody should recognise you here… If all goes well, you can disavow the interview, and the world will think you have been all the time out of the country.”
Mr Craw said nothing. He had started morosely upon the Essays of Addison, and the big glasses adorning his weather-beaten face gave him the air of a pious bookmaker.
Jaikie went out into the rain and made a few calls. He visited the lounge of the Station Hotel in the hope of finding a thirsty Evallonian comforting himself after the drought of the Hydropathic. But he found nobody there except a stray bagman and one or two rainbound golfers. Then he proceeded to the Hydropathic, where he had a few words with the head-porter. The foreigners were all abroad; they had departed after breakfast in two cars; whither the deponent did not know. Their habits? Well, there was always one or two of them on the road. The young man seemed to spend a lot of time in the town, and Wilkie had reported that he had seen him with some queer-looking folk. “He’s maybe a poalitician,” he added. “There’s a heap o’ that trash in Portaway the noo.”
Jaikie penetrated to the back parts of the establishment, and found Wilkie in the boiler house, too much occupied to talk.
“Yon was a dreich show last night, Mr Galt,” was all he found time to say. “I’ve tried a’ three pairties and there’s no ane to mend the ither. My faither used to say that in the auld days an election in Portaway was one lang, bluidy battalation. This time I don’t believe there’ll be a single broken heid. Folks nowadays hae lost a’ spunk and pith. There’s twa-three Communists in the town, and there’s plenty of them among the lads at the Quarries. Maybe they’ll brichten up things afore the polling-day.”
“When is that?” Jaikie asked, and was told “Friday.” “It’ll be a big day in Portaway,” Wilkie added, “for, forby being the nicht o’ the poll, it’s the Callowa Club Ball. Fancy dress, nae less. It used to be in the auld Assembly Rooms, but that’s a furniture depository noo, so they haud it in the big room at the Station Hotel. I’ve seen fifty cairriages and pairs in Portaway that nicht, but noo it’s a’ motors.”
Jaikie returned about tea-time, to find that Mr Craw had fallen asleep over Addison. Mercifully he slept for several hours, and awoke in a better temper, and, having had no tea, with a considerable appetite for dinner. He must be given air and exercise, so, after that meal, the rain having ceased, Jaikie proposed a saunter in the town. Mr Craw consented. “But I will go to no more political meetings,” he said. “I am not interested in this local dog-fight.”
It was a fresh night, with a south-west wind drifting cloud galleons up from the Solway.