English
Branksomemighthaveappearedapoordwelling-placewhencomparedwiththehouseofanEnglishsquire,buttous,afterourlongresidenceinstuffyapartments,itwasofregalmagnificence.
Thebuildingwasbroad-spreadandlow,withred-tiledroof,diamond-panedwindows,andaprofusionofdwellingroomswithsmoke-blackenedceilingsandoakenwainscots.
Infrontwasasmalllawn,girtroundwithathinfringeofhaggardandillgrownbeeches,allgnarledandwitheredfromtheeffectsofthesea-spray.
BehindlaythescatteredhamletofBranksome-Bere—adozencottagesatmost—inhabitedbyrudefisher-folkwholookeduponthelairdastheirnaturalprotector.
Tothewestwasthebroad,yellowbeachandtheIrishSea,whileinallotherdirectionsthedesolatemoors,greyish-greenintheforegroundandpurpleinthedistance,stretchedawayinlong,lowcurvestothehorizon.
VerybleakandlonelyitwasuponthisWigtowncoast.
Amanmightwalkmanyawearymileandneverseealivingthingexceptthewhite,heavy-flappingkittiwakes,whichscreamedandcriedtoeachotherwiththeirshrill,sadvoices.
Verylonelyandverybleak!OnceoutofsightofBranksomeandtherewasnosignoftheworksofmansaveonlywherethehigh,whitetowerofCloomberHallshotup,likeaheadstoneofsomegiantgrave,fromamidthefirsandlarcheswhichgirtitround.
Thisgreathouse,amileormorefromourdwelling,hadbeenbuiltbyawealthyGlasgowmerchantofstrangetastesandlonelyhabits,butatthetimeofourarrivalithadbeenuntenantedformanyyears,andstoodwithweather-blotchedwallsandvacant,staringwindowslookingblanklyoutoverthehillside.
Emptyandmildewed,itservedonlyasalandmarktothefishermen,fortheyhadfoundbyexperiencethatbykeepingthelaird’schimneyandthewhitetowerofCloomberinalinetheycouldsteertheirwaythroughtheuglyreefwhichraisesitsjaggedback,likethatofsomesleepingmonster,abovethetroubledwatersofthewind-sweptbay.
TothiswildspotitwasthatFatehadbroughtmyfather,mysister,andmyself.Forusitslonelinesshadnoterrors.
Afterthehubbubandbustleofagreatcity,andthewearytaskofupholdingappearancesuponaslenderincome,therewasagrand,soul-soothingserenityinthelongskylineandtheeagerair.
Hereatleasttherewasnoneighbourtopryandchatter.
Thelairdhadlefthisphaetonandtwoponiesbehindhim,withtheaidofwhichmyfatherandIwouldgotheroundoftheestatedoingsuchlightdutiesasfalltoanagent,or“factor”asitwastherecalled,whileourgentleEstherlookedtoourhouseholdneeds,andbrightenedthedarkoldbuilding.
Suchwasoursimple,uneventfulexistence,untilthesummernightwhenanunlooked-forincidentoccurredwhichprovedtobetheheraldofthosestrangedoingswhichIhavetakenupmypentodescribe.
Ithadbeenmyhabittopulloutofaneveninginthelaird’sskiffandtocatchafewwhitingwhichmightserveforoursupper.
Onthiswell-rememberedoccasionmysistercamewithme,sittingwithherbookinthestern-sheetsoftheboat,whileIhungmylinesoverthebows.
ThesunhadsunkdownbehindtheruggedIrishcoast,butalongbankofflushedcloudstillmarkedthespot,andcastagloryuponthewaters.
Thewholebroadoceanwasseamedandscarredwithcrimsonstreaks.
Ihadrisenintheboat,andwasgazingroundindelightatthebroadpanoramaofshoreandseaandsky,whenmysisterpluckedatmysleevewithalittle,sharpcryofsurprise.
“See,John,”shecried,“thereisalightinCloomberTower!”
Iturnedmyheadandstaredbackatthetall,whiteturretwhichpeepedoutabovethebeltoftrees.
AsIgazedIdistinctlysawatoneofthewindowstheglintofalight,whichsuddenlyvanished,andthenshoneoutoncemorefromanotherhigherup.
Thereitflickeredforsometime,andfinallyflashedpasttwosuccessivewindowsunderneathbeforethetreesobscuredourviewofit.
Itwasclearthatsomeonebearingalamporacandlehadclimbedupthetowerstairsandhadthenreturnedintothebodyofthehouse.
“Whointheworldcanitbe?”Iexclaimed,speakingrathertomyselfthantoEsther,forIcouldseebythesurpriseuponherfacethatshehadnosolutiontooffer.
“MaybesomeofthefolkfromBranksome-Berehavewantedtolookovertheplace.”
Mysistershookherhead.
“Thereisnotoneofthemwoulddaretosetfootwithintheavenuegates,”shesaid.
“Besides,John,thekeysarekeptbythehouse-agentatWigtown.
Weretheyeversocurious,noneofourpeoplecouldfindtheirwayin”
portraitofSirArthurConanDoyle
WhenIreflecteduponthemassivedoorandponderousshutterswhichguardedthelowerstoreyofCloomber,Icouldnotbutadmittheforceofmysister’sobjection.
Theuntimelyvisitormusteitherhaveusedconsiderableviolenceinordertoforcehiswayin,orhemusthaveobtainedpossessionofthekeys.
Piquedbythelittlemystery,Ipulledforthebeach,withthedeterminationtoseeformyselfwhotheintrudermightbe,andwhatwerehisintentions.
LeavingmysisteratBranksome,andsummoningSethJamieson,anoldman-o’-war’s-manandoneofthestoutestofthefishermen,Isetoffacrossthemoorwithhimthroughthegatheringdarkness.
“Ithasnaaguidnameafterdark,yonhoose,”remarkedmycompanion,slackeninghispaceperceptiblyasIexplainedtohimthenatureofourerrand.
“It’snofornaethingthathimwhaownsitwunnagangwithinaScotchmileo’t.”
“Well,Seth,thereissomeonewhohasnofearsaboutgoingintoit,”saidI,pointingtothegreat,whitebuildingwhichflickeredupinfrontofusthroughthegloom.
ThelightwhichIhadobservedfromtheseawasmovingbackwardsandforwardpastthelowerfloorwindows,theshuttersofwhichhadbeenremoved.
Icouldnowseethatasecondfainterlightfollowedafewpacesbehindtheother.
Evidentlytwoindividuals,theonewithalampandtheotherwithacandleorrushlight,weremakingacarefulexaminationoftilebuilding.
“Letilkamanblawhisainparritch,”saidSethJamiesondoggedly,comingtoadeadstop.
“Whatisittaeusifawraithoraboglemindstaetak’afancytaeCloomber?
It’snocannytaemeddlewi’suchthings.”
“Why,man,”Icried,“youdon’tsupposeawraithcamehereinagig?Whatarethoselightsawayyonderbytheavenuegates?”
“Thelampso’agig,sureenough!”exclaimedmycompanioninalesslugubriousvoice.“Let’ssteerforit,MasterWest,andspeerwhereshehailsfrae.”
Bythistimenighthadclosedinsaveforasinglelong,narrowslitinthewestward.
Stumblingacrossthemoortogether,wemadeourwayintotheWigtownRoad,atthepointwherethehighstonepillarsmarktheentrancetotheCloomberavenue.
Atalldog-cartstoodinfrontofthegateway,thehorsebrowsinguponthethinborderofgrasswhichskirtedtheroad.
“It’sa’richt!”saidJamieson,takingacloselookatthedesertedvehicle.“Ikenitweel.ItbelongstaeMaisterMcNeil,thefactorbodyfraeWigtown—himwhakeepsthekeys.”
“Thenwemayaswellhavespeechwithhimnowthatwearehere,”Ianswered.“Theyarecomingdown,ifIamnotmistaken.”
AsIspokeweheardtheslamoftheheavydoorandwithinafewminutestwofigures,theonetallandangular,theothershortandthickcametowardsusthroughthedarkness.
Theyweretalkingsoearnestlythattheydidnotobserveusuntiltheyhadpassedthroughtheavenuegate.
“Goodevening,Mr.McNeil,”saidI,steppingforwardandaddressingtheWigtownfactor,withwhomIhadsomeslightacquaintance.
ThesmallerofthetwoturnedhisfacetowardsmeasIspoke,andshowedmethatIwasnotmistakeninhisidentity,buthistallercompanionsprangbackandshowedeverysignofviolentagitation.
“Whatisthis,McNeil?”Iheardhimsay,inagasping,chokingvoice.“Isthisyourpromise?Whatisthemeaningofit?”
“Don’tbealarmed,General!Don’tbealarmed!”
saidthelittlefatfactorinasoothingfashion,asonemightspeaktoafrightenedchild.
“ThisisyoungMr.FothergillWest,ofBranksome,thoughwhatbringshimupheretonightismorethanIcanunderstand.
However,asyouaretobeneighbours,Ican’tdobetterthantaketheopportunitytointroduceyoutoeachother.
Mr.West,thisisGeneralHeatherstone,whoisabouttotakealeaseofCloomberHall.”
Iheldoutmyhandtothetallman,wholookitinahesitating,half-reluctantfashion.
“Icameup,”Iexplained,“becauseIsawyourlightsinthewindows,andIboughtthatsomethingmightbewrong.
IamverygladIdidso,sinceithasgivenmethechanceofmakingthegeneral’sacquaintance.”
WhilstIwastalking,IwasconsciousthatthenewtenantofCloomberHallwaspeeringatmeverycloselythroughthedarkness.
AsIconcluded,hestretchedoutalong,tremulousarm,andturnedthegig-lampinsuchawayastothrowafloodoflightuponmyface.
“GoodHeavens,McNeil!”hecried,inthesamequiveringvoiceasbefore,“thefellow’sasbrownaschocolate.He’snotanEnglishman.You’renotanEnglishman—you,sir?”
“I’maScotchman,bornandbred,”saidI,withaninclinationtolaugh,whichwasonlycheckedbymynewacquaintance’sobviousterror.
“AScotchman,eh?”saidhe,withasighofrelief.“It’sallonenowadays.Youmustexcuseme,Mr.—Mr.West.I’mnervous,infernallynervous.
Comealong,McNeil,wemustbebackinWigtowninlessthananhour.Good-night,gentlemen,good-night!”
Thetwoclamberedintotheirplaces;thefactorcrackedhiswhip,andthehighdog-cartclatteredawaythroughthedarkness,castingabrillianttunnelofyellowlightoneithersideofit,untiltherumbleofitswheelsdiedawayinthedistance.
“Whatdoyouthinkofournewneighbour,Jamieson?”Iasked,afteralongsilence.
“‘Deed,Mr.West,heseems,ashesayshimsel’,tobeveranervous.Maybehisconscienceisooto’order.”
“Hisliver,morelikely,”saidI.“Helooksasifhehadtriedhisconstitutionabit.Butit’sblowingchill,Seth,mylad,andit’stimebothofuswereindoors.”
Ibademycompaniongood-night,andstruckoffacrossthemoorsforthecheery,ruddylightwhichmarkedtheparlourwindowsofBranksome.
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