Castle Gay - MVK World

"He's wonderin' if ane o' you lads wad take a telegram for him to the
office. He's terrible set on't. 'Madam,' he says wi' his Englishy voice, 'I assure
you it's a matter of the first importance.'"
"Nonsense," said Dougal. "Sixteen miles after a long day's tramp! He
can easily wait till the morning. Besides, the office would be closed before
we got there."
"Aye, but hearken." Mrs Catterick's voice was hushed in awe. "He offers
twenty punds to the man that will dae his will. He's gotten the notes
in his pooch."
"Now where on earth," said Dougal, "did a medical student get twenty
pounds?"
"He's no like a student. The mair I look at him the better I see that he's
nane o' the rough clan that Erchie rins wi'. He's yin that's been used wi'
his comforts. And he's aulder than I thocht—an aulder man than John. I
wadna say but that blagyird Erchie has kidnapped a Lord Provost, and
whaur will we a' be then?"
"We had better interview him," said Dougal. "It's a shame to let him
fret himself."
"Ane at a time," advised Mrs Catterick, "for he's as skeery as a cowt.
You gang, Dougal. Ye ken the ways o' the college lads."
Dougal departed and the two left behind fell silent. Mrs Catterick's instinct
for the dramatic had been roused, and she kept her eye on the
door, through which the envoy would return, as if it had been the curtain
of a stage play. Even Jaikie's placidity was stirred.
"This is a funny business, Mrs Catterick," he said. "Dougal and I come
here for peace, and we find the Back House of the Garroch turned into a
robbers' den. The Canonry is becoming a stirring place. You've an election
on, too."
"So I was hearin', and the post brings us papers about it. John maun
try and vote, if he can get an orra day atween the sales. He votit last time,
honest man, but we never heard richt whae got in. We're ower far up the
glens for poalitics. Wheesht! Is that Dougal?"
It was not. He did not return for nearly half an hour, and when he
came it was to put his head inside the door and violently beckon Jaikie.
He led him out of doors to the corner of the garden, and then turned on
him a face so excited and portentous that the appropriate utterance
should have been a shout. He did not shout: he whispered hoarsely.
"Do you mind our talk coming up the road? … Providence has taken
me at my word… . Who do you think is sitting ben the house? It's the
man Craw!"
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