Part 39 (2/2)

He thought he knew every hole and corner of the cave, and there was but one where the laird, who, for as near him as he heard his voice the first time, certainly had not formed one of the visible congregation, might have concealed himself: if that was his covert, there he must be still, for he had a.s.suredly not issued from it.

Immediately behind where he had sat in the morning, was a projection of rock, with a narrow cleft between it and the wall of the cavern, visible only from the very back of the cave, where the roof came down low. But when he thought of it, he saw that even here he could not have been hidden in the full light of the morning from the eyes of some urchins who had seated themselves as far back as the roof would allow them, and they had never looked as if they saw anything more than other people. Still, if he was to search at all, here he must begin. The cleft had scarcely more width than sufficed to admit his body, and his hands told him at once that there was no laird there. Could there be any opening further? If there was, it could only be somewhere above. Was advance in that direction possible?

He felt about, and finding two or three footholds, began to climb in the dark, and had reached the height of six feet or so, when he came to a horizontal projection, which, for a moment only, barred his further progress. Having literally surmounted this, that is, got on the top of it, he found there a narrow vertical opening: was it but a shallow recess, or did it lead into the heart of the rock?

Carefully feeling his way both with hands and feet, he advanced a step or two, and came to a place where the pa.s.sage widened a little, and then took a sharp turn and became so narrow that it was with difficulty he forced himself through. It was, however, but one close pinch, and he found himself, as his feet told him, at the top of a steep descent. He stood for a moment hesitating, for prudence demanded a light. The sound of the sea was behind him, but all in front was still as the darkness of the grave. Suddenly up from unknown depths of gloom, came the tones of a sweet childish voice, singing The Lord's my Shepherd.

Malcolm waited until the psalm was finished, and then called out:

”Mr Stewart! I'm here--Malcolm MacPhail. I want to see ye. Tell him it's me, Phemy.”

A brief pause followed; then Phemy's voice answered:

”Come awa' doon. He says ye s' be welcome.”

”Canna ye shaw a licht than; for I dinna ken a fit o' the ro'd,”

said Malcolm.

The next moment a light appeared at some little distance below, and presently began to ascend, borne by Phemy, towards the place where he stood. She took him by the hand without a word, and led him down a slope, apparently formed of material fallen from the roof, to the cave already described. The moment he entered it, he marked the water in its side, the smooth floor, the walls hollowed into a thousand fantastic cavities, and knew he had come upon the cave in which his great grandfather had found refuge so many years before. Changes in its mouth had rendered entrance difficult, and it had slipped by degrees from the knowledge of men.

At the bottom of the slope, by the side of the well, sat the laird.

Phemy set the little lantern she carried on its edge. The laird rose and shook hands with Malcolm and asked him to be seated.

”I'm sorry to say they're efter ye again, laird,” said Malcolm after a little ordinary chat.

Mr Stewart was on his feet instantly.

”I maun awa'. Tak care o' Phemy,” he said hurriedly.

”Na, na, sir,” said Malcolm, laying his hand on his arm; ”there's nae sic hurry. As lang's I'm here ye may sit still; an', as far's I ken, naebody's fun' the w'y in but mysel', an' that was yer am wyte (blame), laird. But ye hae garred mair fowk nor me luik, an'

that's the pity o' 't.”

”I tauld ye, sir, ye sudna cry oot,” said Phemy.

”I couldna help it,” said Stewart apologetically.

”Weel, ye sudna ha' gane near them again,” persisted the little woman.

”Wha kent but they kent whaur I cam frae?” persisted the laird.

”Sit ye doon, sir, an' lat's hae a word aboot it,” said Malcolm cheerily.

The laird cast a doubting look at Phemy.

”Ay, sit doon,” said Phemy.

Mr Stewart yielded, but nervous starts and sudden twitches of the muscles betrayed his uneasiness: it looked as if his body would jump up and run without his mind's consent.

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