Part 65 (2/2)

he cried, as he wrenched a cudgel from the grasp of one of them.

Then catching up a lantern, and hurrying behind the projecting rock --”Haste ye, an' come,” he shouted. ”The w'y 's clear, but only for a meenute.”

Florimel appeared, and Malcolm got her down.

”Mind that fellow,” cried the marquis from above.

Malcolm turned quickly, and saw the gleam of a knife in the grasp of his old enemy, who had risen, and crept behind him to the recess.

He flung the lantern in his face, following it with a blow in which were concentrated all the weight and energy of his frame. The man went down again heavily, and Malcolm instantly trampled all their lanterns to pieces.

”Noo,” he said to himself, ”they winna ken but it 's the laird an'

Phemy wi' me!”

Then turning, and taking Florimel by the arm, he hurried her out of the cave, followed by the marquis.

They emerged in the liquid darkness of a starry night. Lady Florimel clung to both her father and Malcolm. It was a rough way for some little distance, but at length they reached the hard wet sand, and the marquis would have stopped to take breath; but Malcolm was uneasy, and hurried them on.

”What are you frightened at now?” asked his lords.h.i.+p.

”Naething,” answered Malcolm, adding to himself however, ”I 'm fleyt at naethin'--I 'm fleyt for the laird.”

As they approached the tunnel, he fell behind.

”Why don't you come on?” said his lords.h.i.+p.

”I 'm gaein' back noo 'at ye 're safe,” said Malcolm.

”Going back! What for?” asked the marquis.

”I maun see what thae villains are up till,” answered Malcolm.

”Not alone, surely!” exclaimed the marquis. ”At least get some of your people to go with you.”

”There 's nae time, my lord. Dinna be fleyt for me: I s' tak care o' mysel'.”

He was already yards away, running at full speed. The marquis shouted after him, but Malcolm would not hear.

When he reached the Baillies' Barn once more, all was still. He groped his way in and found his own lantern where they had been sitting, and having lighted it, descended and followed the windings of the cavern a long way, but saw nothing of the laird or Phemy.

Coming at length to a spot where he heard the rus.h.i.+ng of a stream, he found he could go no farther: the roof of the cave had fallen, and blocked up the way with huge ma.s.ses of stone and earth. He had come a good distance certainly, but by no means so far as Phemy's imagination had represented the reach of the cavern. He might however have missed a turn, he thought.

The sound he heard was that of the Lossie Burn, flowing along in the starlight through the grounds of the House. Of this he satisfied himself afterwards; and then it seemed to him not unlikely that in ancient times the river had found its way to the sea along the cave, for throughout its length the action of water was plainly visible. But perhaps the sea itself had used to go roaring along the great duct: Malcolm was no geologist, and could not tell.

CHAPTER XLVII: MRS STEWART'S CLAIM

The weather became unsettled with the approach of winter, and the marquis had a boat house built at the west end of the Seaton: there the little cutter was laid up, well wrapt in tarpaulins, like a b.u.t.terfly returned to the golden coffin of her internatal chrysalis.

A great part of his resulting leisure, Malcolm spent with Mr Graham, to whom he had, as a matter of course, unfolded the trouble caused him by Duncan's communication.

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