Castle Gay - MVK World

his way… . There's somebody else at work on this job, somebody that
wants to have it believed that Craw is out of the country."
Jaikie shook a sceptical head.
"You were always too ingenious, Dougal. You've got Craw on the
brain, and are determined to find melodrama… . Order my breakfast like
a good chap. I'll be down in twenty minutes."
Jaikie bathed in the ancient contrivance of wood and tin, which was all
that the inn provided, and was busy shaving when Dougal returned. The
latter sat himself resolutely on the bed.
"The sooner we're at the Castle the better," he observed, as if the remark
were the result of a chain of profound reasoning. "The more I think
of this affair the less I like it. I'm not exactly in love with Craw, but he's
my chief, and I'm for him every time against his trade rivals. Compared
to the Wire crowd, Craw is respectable. What I want to get at is the state
of mind of the folk in the Castle. They're afraid of the journalists, and
they've cause. A fellow like Tibbets is as dangerous as nitro-glycerine.
They've lost Craw, and they want to keep it quiet till they find him again.
So far it's plain sailing. But what in Heaven's name did they mean by
barricading the gate at the big lodge?"
"To prevent themselves being taken by surprise by journalists in
motor-cars or on motor-bicycles," said Jaikie, who was now trying to flatten
out his rebellious hair.
"But that's not sense. To barricade the gate was just to give the journalists
the kind of news they wanted. 'Mr Craw's House in a State of Siege.'
'Amazing Precautions at Castle Gay'—think of the headlines! Barbon and
the rest know everything about newspaper tricks, and we must assume
that they haven't suddenly become congenital idiots… . No, Jaikie my
lad, they're afraid—blind afraid—of something more than the journalists,
and the sooner we find out what it is the better for you and me and
Craw… . I'll give you twenty minutes to eat your breakfast, and then we
take the road. It'll be by the bridge and the water-side, the same as last
night."
It was a still hazy autumn morning with the promise of a warm midday.
The woods through which the two sped were loud with pheasants,
the shooting of which would be at the best perfunctory, for the tenant at
the Castle never handled a gun. No one was on the road, except an aged
stonebreaker in a retired nook. They hid their bicycles with some care in
a mossy covert, for they might be for some time separated from them,
and, after a careful reconnaissance to see that they were unobserved,
entered the park by way of the bridge parapet, the traverse and the ten-
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