"Sir," said Rolls, "you're too sensible a man not to know that the last thing a lad is likely to do is what's reasonable, especially when he's in that flurry, and just furious at being blamed."
Mr Monypenny was walking up and down his business room with much haste and excitement. His house was built on the side of a slope, so that the room, which was level with the road on one side, was elevated on the upper floor at the other, and consequently had the advantage of a view bounded, as was general, by "that eternal Tinto," as he was in the habit of calling it. The good man, greatly disturbed by what he heard, walked to his window and stared out as Rolls spoke. And he shook his fist at the distant object of so many troubles. "Him and his big house and his ill ways – they've been the trouble of the country-side those fifteen years and more," cried the excited "man of business"; "and now we're not done with him, even when he's dead."
"Far from done with him," said Rolls, shaking his head. He was seated on the edge of a chair with his hat in his lap and a countenance of dismay. "If I might make so bold as to ask," he said, "what would ye say, sir, would be done if the worst came to the worst? I'm no' saying to Mr Erskine indiveedually," added Rolls – "for it's my belief he's had nothing ado with it – but granting that it's some person and no mere accident – "
"How can I tell – or any man?" said Mr Monypenny. "It depends entirely on the nature of the act. It's all supposition, so far as I can see. To pitch Pat Torrance over the Scaur, him and his big horse, with murderous intent, is more than John Erskine could have done, or any man I know. And there was no quarrel or motive. Culpable homicide – "
"That'll be what the English gentleman called manslaughter."
"Manslaughter is a wide word. It would all depend on the circumstances. A year; maybe six months only – If it were to turn out so – which I do not for a moment believe – " said Mr Monypenny, fixing his eyes upon Rolls with a determination which betrayed internal feebleness of belief.
"Nor me, sir – nor me!" cried Rolls, with the same look. They were like two conspirators regarding each other with the consciousness of the plot, which, even between themselves, each eyeing the other, they were determined to deny.
"But if by any evil chance it were to turn out so – I would advise a plain statement," said Mr Monypenny – "just a plain statement, concealing nothing. That should have been done at the moment: help should have been sought at the moment; there's the error. A misadventure like that might happen to any man. We might any of us be the means of such an accident: but panic is just the worst policy. Panic looks like guilt. If he's been so far left to himself as to take fright – to see that big man on his big horse thunderin' over the Scaur would be enough to make any man lose his head," the agent added, with a sort of apology in his tone.
"If you could think of the young master as in that poseetion," said Rolls.
"Which is just impossible," Mr Monypenny said, and then there was a little pause. "The wisest thing," he went on, "would be, just as I say, a plain statement. Such and such a thing happened. I lost my head. I thought there was nothing to be done. I was foolish enough to shrink from the name of it, or from the coolness it would make between me and my friends. Ay, very likely that might be the cause – the coolness it would make between him and the family at Lindores – "
"You're meaning always if there was onything in it at a'?"
"That is what I'm meaning. I will go and see him at once," Mr Monypenny said, "and that is the advice I will give. A plain story whatever it may be – just the facts; neither extenuate nor set down aught in malice. And as for you, Rolls, that seem to be mixed up in it yourself – "
"Ay, sir; I'm mixed up in it," said Rolls, turning upon him an inquiring yet half-defiant glance.
"It was you that found the body first. It was you that met your master at the gate. You're the most important witness, so far as I can see. Lord bless us, man!" said Mr Monypenny, forgetting precaution, "had you not the judgment, when you saw the lad had been in a tuilzie, to get him out of other folk's sight, and keep it to yourself?"
"There was John Tamson as well as me," said Rolls, very gravely; and then he added, "but ye canna see yet, Mr Monypenny, how it may a' turn."
"I see plenty," said the man of business, impatiently; and then he added, "the best thing you can do is to find out all you can about the ground, and other details. It was always unsafe; and there had been a great deal of rain. Very likely it was worse than ordinary that day. And call to mind any circumstances that might tell on our side. Ye had better come to me and make me acquainted with all your observations. Neglect nothing. The very way the beast was lying, if ye can rightly remember, might be a help. You're not without sense, Rolls. I've always had a high opinion of your sense. Now here's a chance for you to prove it – And come back to me, and we'll judge how the evidence tends. There's no need," he said, standing at the window once more with his back to his pupil, "to bring out any points that might turn – the other way."
"I'm not just such a fool as – some folk think," said Rolls; "and yet," he added, in an undertone, "for a' that, you canna see, Mr Monypenny, how it may all turn – "
"Don't haver, Rolls," said the agent, turning upon him angrily; "or speak out what you mean. There is no man can say how a thing will turn but he that has perfect knowledge of all the circumstances – which is not my case."
"That's what I was saying, sir," said Rolls, with a tranquil assumption which roused Mr Monypenny's temper; but the old man was so solemn in his air of superior knowledge, so full of sorrowful decision and despondency, that anger seemed out of place. The other grew alarmed as he looked at him.
"For God's sake, man," he cried, "if there's anything behind that I don't know, tell it! let me hear the worst. We must know the worst, if it's to make the best of it. Hide nothing from me."
"I give ye my word, sir, I'll hide nothing – when the time comes," said Rolls, with a sigh; "but I canna just unburden my bozume at this moment. There's mair thought needful and mair planning. And there's one thing I would like to make sure of, Mr Monypenny. If I'm put to expenses, or otherwise laid open to risk and ootlay – there's no doubt but it would be made up to me? And if, as might happen, anything serious was to befall – without doubt the young maister would think himself bound to take good care o' Bauby? She's my sister, maybe you'll mind: an aixcellent housekeeper and a good woman, though maybe I should leave her praises to ither folk. You see he hasna been brought up in the midst o' his ain folk, so to speak, or I would have little doubt."
"I cannot conceive what you mean, Rolls. Of course I know Bauby and her cookery both; but what risk you should run, or what she can have to do with it! Your expenses of course," said the agent, with a contemptuous wave of his hand, "you may be sure enough of. But you must have done pretty well in the service of the Dalrulzian family, Rolls. I'm surprised that you should think of this at such a moment – "
"That's just what I expectit, sir," said Rolls; "but maybe I ken my ain affairs best, having no man of business. And about Bauby, she's just what I care for most. I wouldna have her vexed or distresst for siller, or put out of her ordinar. The maister he's but a young man, and no' attached to us as he would have been had he been brought up at hame. It's a great drawback to a young lad, Mr Monypenny" – Rolls broke off his personal argument to say sententiously – "not to be brought up at hame."
"Because he does not get the chance of becoming attached to his servants?" said Mr Monypenny, with an impatient laugh. "Perhaps it may be so, but this is a curious moment to moralise on the subject."
"No' so curious as you think, sir; but I will not weary you," said Rolls, with some dignity. "When I was saying ootlay, I meant mair than just a sixpence here or there. But Bauby's the grand question. I'm in a strange kind of a poseetion, and the one thing I'm clear in is my duty to her. She's been a rael guid sister to me; aye made me comfortable, studiet my ways, took an interest in all my bits o' fykes. I would ill like either scorn or trouble to come to Bauby. She's awfu' soft-hearted," said the old butler, solemnly gazing into vacancy with a reddening of his eyes. Something of that most moving of all sentiments, self-pity, was in his tone. He foresaw Bauby's apron