Johnstone of the Border

CHAPTER XIV

A FAIR ALLY

It was bright afternoon, and Elsie sat beside a tea-table on the lawn at Appleyard, with Williamson standing beside her. The days were getting short, but the screen of stiff silver-firs kept off the light wind, and strong sunshine warmed the air. It was what the Scot calls a pet day; one borrowed from a finer season, and to be made the most of when winter was close at hand. Madge Whitney lay in a canvas lounge nearer the shelter of the trees, talking to Andrew, and several young men and women stood about the tennis net across the lawn. They seemed to be engaged in a good-humored dispute and their laughter followed a remark of Dick's.

Williamson glanced at his companion and saw that her eyes were fixed upon the boy. They were grave, and her expression was preoccupied, but he did not see the softness he had expected. Indeed, her interest in Dick was puzzling, because he did not think it was altogether accounted for by the hints Staffer had given him, and this was a point upon which he wished to be enlightened. Williamson knew something about women, but, for the most part, they were not women of very high character. With these he was not a favorite, although he was a clever talker and his manners were good.

"You do play tennis sometimes," Elsie said after a silence.

Williamson smiled. Her meaning was obvious.

"Oh, yes, but one feels lazy now and then; and I imagined you let me stay because you wanted to talk to me! Was I wrong?"

"No," answered Elsie; and he noted her unmoved calm.

She was young, but he had not expected shy hesitation or forced boldness from her. He was, however, surprised when she said nothing for the next minute; for he had usually found that an inexperienced antagonist shirks the strain of silence. Then he indicated Dick, who had just returned a difficult ball.

"He plays a good game."

"Dick does a number of things pretty well, although there's none at which he really excels. I don't know which is the more useful – "

"You like a man to have some salient point of skill or character that those who know him can rely upon?"

He noticed her glance wander and did not know that she was half instinctively looking for Andrew, but it rested again on Dick, brooding but calm. Williamson saw that she felt no keen animosity against himself. She knew or suspected that they were, in some respects, opponents, but this did not make her vindictive. She would take the course she had determined on without hating him. This indicated strength of character, but it was too detached an attitude for a young girl fighting for her lover.

"Dick looks better than he did," he remarked to give her an opening.

"Yes," said Elsie, fixing her eyes quietly on his face; "very much better than he did when he came home from town."

Williamson admired her courage.

"For which you held me to blame!" he said.

"Partly to blame."

"Well, I see you're trying to be fair, though I'm half afraid you failed. But since you meant to raise this point, I must warn you against looking at things out of their right perspective. It makes those in the foreground appear too big."

"You mean one should not exaggerate their relative importance?"

"Exactly. You must, for example, allow for the exhilarating effect a change of air has on a young man fresh from the country who spends a few days in town. Remember that Dick leads a very quiet and monotonous life at Appleyard."

"A sober life is much the best for him."

Williamson wondered whether she spoke with naïve girlish prudery; if not, there was something he ought to know.

"Perhaps it's best for everybody; but we don't all like it, and a change is bracing," he answered with a smile. "I suppose you are looking at the thing from the moral standpoint."

"Not exclusively. Dick will soon be master at Appleyard, and that will bring him duties he ought to be fitting himself for. Then you may not know that he is not very strong."

"I guessed something of the kind, but a few late nights and a little excitement can't do much harm."

Elsie looked at him with thoughtful eyes.

"Possibly not, in most cases, but they are bad for Dick."

"If you would be quite frank it would help." Williamson was anxious to learn why quietness was necessary for the lad. "We might get on better if we understood each other."

"Have I not been frank? You could hardly have expected me to say as much as I have, even. But I am not Dick's doctor."

Williamson felt baffled, but he would not show it.

"You feel that I ought to have looked after Dick better. I think that's hardly just, because I have, of course, no control over him."

"You are an older man, and he is easily led. A hint would have gone a long way, and he doesn't resent good-humored firmness from those he likes."

"You suggest that he likes me?"

"One can't tell," said Elsie in a quiet voice.

"Well, you must see how awkwardly I'm placed. I can't defend myself without attacking Dick, and you wouldn't like that. Suppose I hinted that he insisted on following his bent although I tried to restrain him?"

"Did you?"

Williamson hesitated, which was an unusual thing. He had no sentimental respect for girlish inexperience, but he could not make the direct statement that would have cleared him. He reflected with a touch of ironical amusement that Elsie would not be deceived.

"It was really difficult to interfere, but I did try a tactful hint," he said with an indulgent air. "Perhaps the way you regard the thing is natural and deserves some sympathy, but I must say I feel a little hurt. It looks as if you thought I had some object in encouraging Dick to be extravagant and rash."

"No; I can't see what you would gain," Elsie replied thoughtfully.

"Well, that's some relief; but what do you want now? A promise that, at the risk of offending him, I'll be very firm in future?"

Elsie was silent for a moment and then looked at him calmly.

"I don't think I will ask you for this," she said.

She rose, and Williamson turned away, feeling somewhat annoyed with himself. Elsie had not asked for his promise, because she thought it would not be kept. He had failed to convince her, and her opposition must be reckoned with. Then, what she had said about excitement being bad for Dick had roused his keen curiosity. The girl was inexperienced and had used no artifice, but he did not think she could have played her part better. Staffer apparently believed that she and Andrew Johnstone were not important; but Williamson thought him mistaken. While he crossed the lawn Madge Whitney watched him with a smile.

"That man," she remarked to Andrew, "has just got a set down, but I imagine Elsie has been wasting her time."

"It looks as if you knew what they had been talking about," Andrew replied.

Madge's eyes twinkled.

"Why, of course I do! You must remember that I've been here a week, noticing things. Elsie doesn't like the man, and the only reason she could have for talking to him confidentially is that she wanted to warn him to keep his hands off Dick. But I don't think he will."

"Ah!" Andrew said sharply. "It's curious that you – "

"Shall I finish what you meant to say? It's curious that although I haven't had much opportunity for seeing what is going on, I should agree with the conclusion you have come to after mature deliberation. Well, if you're afraid of complimenting me on my cleverness, you can account for it by remembering that I'm an American. Of course, this doesn't make me anything the less of an outsider."

"I didn't mean that you were an outsider."

"Perhaps you didn't. It was your Scottish reserve that made you hate to talk about your family affairs; but Jim, who counts you as his partner, has told me something. Then I don't mind telling you that I like you and admire what you are trying to do. However, we'll keep to the point. Williamson is leading your cousin into extravagance with some object."

"I believe that's true," Andrew agreed quietly. "After all, you were right to some extent, about my reserve; but now if you can help me I'll be very glad. It isn't an easy job I have undertaken."

"Very well. I'll begin by telling you something. The evening Williamson arrived, I was coming down to dinner before the rest – I afterward found my watch was fast. When I got to the gallery at the top of the stairs I stopped; it's rather dark where you come out of the passage, you know. Dick was standing by the fire in the hall and his manner indicated that he was waiting for somebody. As I hesitated, Williamson came out of the opposite passage and went downstairs, but his quick glance around showed he wanted to be sure there was nobody but Dick about. I saw Dick's face, and it was eager. Williamson gave him two or three bits of paper that looked like bank-notes."

"If Dick had given them to Williamson, I could have understood it better," Andrew interrupted.

"Yes; the explanation would then have been obvious; but what I saw suggests something graver. Dick went away, looking relieved; but Williamson moved toward the stairs and then turned back, and a few moments afterward Staffer came in. He said, 'So you have seen him!'"

Andrew made an abrupt movement, but said nothing.

"I suppose you see the significance of this?" Madge said.

It was plain to Andrew that Staffer had known, and no doubt approved, of the transaction between Williamson and Dick.

"Yes; and I feel disturbed about it."

"Well," continued Madge, "I went back quietly and didn't come down for some time; but I watched the three men at dinner. Williamson spoke to Dick as if he had not seen him since he came, and Dick said he was sorry he wasn't able to meet him at the station. In fact, they rather overdid it; and Staffer seemed to think so, because he stopped them. Then, perhaps, because he felt relieved, Dick – "

"Drank more than usual?" Andrew suggested grimly when she hesitated. "I noticed that. Well, since you have seen so much, I'm glad to have you on my side, particularly if you can tell me what I ought to do. I'll admit that I don't know."

"I think you should watch and do what seems plainly needful, but nothing more. Don't try to make clever plans, but take Mackellar into your confidence."

"You haven't met him," Andrew said in surprise.

"Jim has, and I know what he thinks of him."

Andrew took her advice and soon afterward left Appleyard in the side-car. Whitney let the high-powered bicycle go when they turned into the main western road, which runs, straight and level, along the Solway, and they reached Dumfries in an hour. Mackellar had not left his office and in five minutes Andrew had made the situation plain. Mackellar pondered it silently for a time, and then looked up.

"Weel," he said, "it gets interesting and I must set to work. I'll let ye know when I have anything to report."

Andrew, knowing his man, was satisfied with this. He and Whitney drove home at full speed, and arrived before their absence had been noticed. Williamson left the next morning, and Madge Whitney a few days afterward, and nothing of importance happened during the following week; but Mackellar had, in the meantime, been carrying out a plan that was to have some influence upon Williamson's affairs.

CHAPTER XV

A BARGAIN

There was no Sunday delivery of letters, and one Monday morning Williamson sat rather anxiously watching the road outside a small country house beside the Tweed. One of the tall gateposts at the end of the drive had sunk to a slant and the gravel had not been rolled or raked for some time. The borders round the lawn hinted at economy in bedding out and gardener's hire, and the old house had a dilapidated look. These things were significant and explained why Williamson had been received there as a paying guest, with the privilege of some rough shooting and salmon-fishing.

He could have found cheaper quarters, but the place suited him. For one thing, his residence there gave him a certain standing in the country, and his host, a decayed Scottish gentleman, was getting old and left him alone. He could go and come as he liked without exciting remark, and the people he met were well bred and not imaginative. Since he had been received by his host, they took it for granted that he was a man one could be friendly with.

The postman at last dismounted from his bicycle at the gate. It is customary in that neighborhood to meet the post, but Williamson sat still, as if he did not expect any letters. The man gave him three before he went on to the house, and Williamson put them down and carelessly lighted his pipe. He had learned to exercise caution in such details, though he felt disturbed as he recognized the writing.

The first curtly reminded him that payment for the hire of a motor car was two months overdue. The second enclosed a statement of a fashionable tailor's account, which included an expensive fur coat; but there was no difference in the hand. Williamson knew it well; indeed, he had two or three similar demands in his pocket. Each ended with an intimation that unless payment were made within a specified time, proceedings would be taken to enforce it.

Williamson put down the notes and vacantly looked about. Not far away, the Tweed, sparkling in the sunshine, ran through a wooded hollow where beeches gleamed ruddy-brown among somber firs. Two men with guns upon their shoulders were crossing the steep stubble that glittered with melting hoar frost on the breast of a neighboring hill, and a keeper with a couple of setters stood at the gate. Williamson was to have gone shooting with his host; but now he must excuse himself, for he had something of importance to think about.

His expenses were heavy, for it was important that he should pass for a sporting man of means, and he was a good shot and skilful with the salmon rod. As a rule, he had money enough for his needs, but his supplies had been irregular since the war began, and as he had luxurious tastes his debts had mounted up. Of late, his creditors had grown impatient, but it was curious they should all have asked the same lawyer to enforce their claims. This could not have happened by coincidence. It looked as if somebody, who must have taken a good deal of trouble to investigate his affairs, meant to put some pressure on him. This was alarming, for several reasons; and as he could not pay his debts in the time allowed, he determined to call upon the lawyer and see what he could find out.

There was, however, another matter that demanded attention, and as he took up a letter with the Newcastle postmark the Tweed drew his eyes again. It reminded him of a wider river with older associations; a river where terraced vineyards rose steeply from the waterside, instead of the rounded Scottish hills, and barges slowly floating past ancient towns. His expression changed and grew resolute as he thought of it.

Opening the envelope he found, as he expected, a short note folded round a letter. The note said that he would, no doubt, like to hear how Jack was getting on in Holland, and ended with a few references to mutual acquaintances. The letter was of some length, and narrated in gossiping style its writer's business journey to several Dutch towns. Williamson, however, knew that there was more in it than met the eye, and he went to excuse himself from joining the shooting party. After this, he spent some time studying the letter in his room, and when he had burned it he went at once to the station.

Leaving the train at an old country town, he called at the lawyer's office and was received by a suave elderly gentleman.

"It was my unpleasant duty to send you these notices," the lawyer said with an apologetic air. "I appreciate your prompt response, and expect the little matter will now be put right. You must admit that the creditors have exercised some patience."

"But don't mean to do so any longer, eh? That is really what I came to see about."

"Of course you understand that the war has made money tight. My clients inform me that they find themselves compelled to press for outstanding accounts and to take a course that in a happier state of things they would not employ."

"Then I am to understand that these notices will be acted upon?"

"I think you can take that for granted," the lawyer answered in a deprecatory tone. "However, there is a way in which you can obviate all trouble to yourself and me – I mean by paying what is due at once."

Williamson looked at him with a grim smile.

"It sounds simple, but there are difficulties. Now, I can pay these bills, but not in the time mentioned. Have you power to extend it?"

"No; but if you will make me an offer I will consult my clients."

"That would cause some delay. As I want the matter settled, I would prefer to call upon the man who has brought it to a head. Will you tell me his name?"

Williamson had hoped to catch the lawyer off his guard, but his amused expression showed him that he had failed.

"There are several names. You know the people."

"Of course; but suppose you admit that I have some intelligence and try to look at the matter from my point of view."

"It would be difficult, for the want of practise," the lawyer answered dryly. "I have no debts."

"Still, if you had several creditors who lived in different places and simultaneously put their claims into the hands of one particular lawyer, what would you think?"

"It might be accounted for very simply. I believe I am known as a businesslike, trustworthy man."

"I don't doubt it; but I suspect another explanation. There is somebody behind these people who has persuaded them to stop my credit or has bought up the debts. He must have a reason for this, and if I could talk it over privately with him, it would simplify things."

"I'm not so sure that follows," said the lawyer. "All I can tell you is that the bills have been sent to me for collection and unless they are met I shall reluctantly be forced to – "

"Just so," Williamson interrupted. "At present, I cannot say whether they will be met or not. I'm afraid we must leave it at that. And now, good day."

A clerk politely showed him out; and he reached the station in time to catch an Edinburgh train. There was no one else in the compartment he entered, and he sat in a corner, thinking hard. Though he had not learned much he felt that he was right in his surmise. Some one was trying to put pressure on him through his creditors. His first guess at his unknown antagonist's object caused him serious alarm; but after some reflection he dismissed it with relief as improbable and sought for another explanation.

To begin with, he must first discover the identity of his enemy. His suspicions centered on Appleyard. Andrew Johnstone was certainly hostile, on his cousin's account; and it was possible that he had been helped by Mackellar, whom Williamson had met at Appleyard. He determined to see Mackellar; but he could not do so until next day, for a more important matter demanded attention first.

Getting out at the Waverley station, he took a cable tram, and, leaving it on the outskirts of the city, walked on to Leith. Here at dusk he met a man dressed like a sailor, and spent an hour with him in the back room of a public house. When they came out the sailor disappeared in the darkness and Williamson returned to Edinburgh, where he dined and slept at a fashionable hotel. The next morning he went to Glasgow, and left it shortly after his arrival by a train which took him to Dumfries. It was not without a reason he had traveled by three different railways. Williamson generally tried to cover his tracks.

After lunch at the station hotel, he walked down the narrow High Street and stopped at a garage, to order a motorcycle to be ready in half an hour. Then, by an indirect route, he went to Mackellar's offices.

As it happened, Mackellar was then talking to Andrew and Whitney in his private room, and he smiled as he showed them Williamson's card.

"Maybe ye had better ask Mr. Davies to let ye out by the back," he said. "If ye call again in half an hour, I may have some news."

"I wonder how Williamson got here?" Andrew said when they reached the street. "There's no train that connects with the North British."

"Came in a car, perhaps," Whitney suggested. "Somehow, I'd like to know. Let's try our garage; everybody puts up there."

They went to the garage and Whitney began to make an unnecessary adjustment to the engine of his side-car.

"I suppose Mr. Williamson comes here when he's in town?" he said to a man at work near by.

"Yes," the man answered. "He's in town the noo."

"Did Mr. Staffer bring him in his car?"

"She's no' in the yard, and Mr. Williamson's for Castle Douglas." The man indicated the motorcycle on which he was working. "I'm tightening her up for the run; no' that she needs it much. Mr. Williamson kens a good machine and always asks for her."

"Is there anything doing at Castle Douglas to-day?"

"No' that I've heard of. He's for the moors, I'm thinking. There's a gun-case to be strapped on the carrier; but if ye're wanting to see him ye must leave word at the office. I'll be away at another job before he comes in."

"It doesn't matter; we may meet him," Whitney answered carelessly; and he and Andrew strolled away.

"Well," he said, "we have learned something! It seems Williamson's in the habit of hiring a motorcycle here. Has he any friends in Galloway who might give him some shooting?"

"None that I know of," Andrew replied with a puzzled look.

"I guess you noted that he makes a curious choice of a machine. She's good – I know that make – but I can't see why he picks a single-cylinder lightweight when they've several full-powered machines on the stand. Looks as if he expected he'd have to wheel her. What's the Castle Douglas road like?"

"It's the highway to the west, and we keep our main roads in good order."

"You certainly do," Whitney agreed. "But I stick to my opinion that he has some particular reason for choosing a light machine." He hesitated a moment. "I don't want to butt in, and as the fellow's a family friend, it's delicate ground; but if you feel you'd like a run through Galloway – "