04 I Run a Great Danger in the House of Shaws (Kidnapped)

01CHAPTER IV.

02I run a great danger in the house of Shaw's.

03For a day that was begun so ill, the day passed fairly well.

04We had the porridge cold again at noon and hot porridge at night.

05Porridge and small beer was my uncle's diet.

06He spoke but little, and that in the same way as before, shooting a question at me after a long silence, and when I sought to lead him to talk about my future, slipped out of it again.

07In a room next door to the kitchen, where he suffered me to go, I found a great number of books, both Latin and English, in which I took great pleasure all the afternoon.

08Indeed, the time passed so lightly in this good company that I began to be almost reconciled to my residence at Shaw's, and nothing but the sight of my uncle, and his eyes playing a hide-and-seek with mine, revived the force of my distrust.

09One thing I discovered, which put me in some doubt, there was an entry on the fly-leaf of a chap-book, one of Patrick Walker's, plainly written by my father's hand, and thus conceived, to my brother Ebenezer on his fifth birthday.

10Now what puzzled me was this, that, as my father was of course the younger brother, he must either have made some strange error, or he must have written, before he was yet five, an excellent, clear, manly hand of writing.

11I tried to get this out of my head, but though I took down many interesting authors, old and new, history, poetry, and story-book, this notion of my father's hand of writing stuck to me, and when at length I went back into the kitchen, and sat down once more, to porridge and small beer, the first thing I said to Uncle Ebenezer was to ask him if my father had not been very quick at his book.

12"'Alexander?

13No him!' was the reply.

14"'I was far quicker mysell.

15I was a clever chappy when I was young.

16Why, I could read as soon as he could.' This puzzled me yet more, and a thought coming into my head I asked if he and my father had been twins.

17He jumped upon his stool, and the horn spoon fell out of his hand upon the floor.

18"'What gars you ask that?' he said, and he caught me by the breast of the jacket, and looked this time straight into my eyes, his own were little and light, and bright like a bird's, blinking and winking strangely.

19"'What do you mean?' I asked very calmly, for I was far stronger than he, and not easily frightened.

20"'Take your hand for my jacket.

21This is no way to behave.' My uncle seemed to make a great effort upon himself.

22"'Died man, David,' he said.

23"'You shouldn't speak to me about your father.

24That's where the mistake is.' He sat a while, and shook, blinking in his plate.

25"'He was all the brother that ever I had,' he added, with no heart in his voice, and then he caught up his spoon and fell to supper again, but still shaking.

26Now this last passage, this laying of hands upon my person, and sudden profession of love for my dead father, went so clean beyond my comprehension that it put me into both fear and hope.

27On the one hand, I began to think my uncle was perhaps insane and might be dangerous.

28On the other, there came up into my mind, quite unbidden by me, and even discouraged, a story like some ballad I had heard folks singing, of a poor lad that was a rightful heir, and a wicked kinsman that tried to keep him from his own.

29But why should my uncle play a part with a relative that came almost a beggar to his door, unless in his heart he had some cause to fear him?

30With this notion, all unacknowledged, but nevertheless getting firmly settled in my head, I now began to imitate his covert looks, so that we sat at table like a cat and a mouse, each stealthily observing the other.

31Not another word had he to say to me, black or white, but he was busy turning something secretly over in his mind, and the longer we sat and the more I looked at him, the more certain I became that the something was unfriendly to myself.

32When he had cleared the platter, he got out a single pipeful of tobacco, just as in the morning, turned round his stool into the chimney corner, and sat a while smoking with his back to me.

33Just precisely, just exactly, and here he paused and stumbled, just exactly forty pounds.

34This last he rapped out with a sidelong glance over his shoulder, and the next moment he added, almost with a scream, Scots!

35The pound Scots being the same thing as an English shilling, the difference made by this second thought was considerable.

36I could see, besides, that the whole story was a lie, invented with some end which it puzzled me to guess, and I made no attempt to conceal the tone of raillery in which I answered, Oh, think again, sir!

37Pound Sterling, I believe.

38That's what I said, returned my uncle.

39Pound Sterling!

40And if you'll step out by to the door a minute, just to see what kind of a night it is, I'll get it out to you, and call you in again.

41I did his will, smiling to myself in my contempt that he should think I was so easily to be deceived.

42It was a dark night, with a few stars low down, and as I stood just outside the door I heard a hollow moaning of wind far off among the hills.

43I said to myself there was something thundery and changeful in the weather, and little knew of what a vast importance that should prove to me before the evening passed.

44When I was called in again, my uncle counted out into my hand seven and thirty golden guinea pieces.

45The rest was in his hand, in small gold and silver, but his heart failed him there, and he crammed the change into his pocket.

46There, said he, that'll show you.

47I'm a queer man, and strange with strangers, but my word is my bond, and there's the proof of it.

48Now my uncle seemed so miserly that I was struck dumb by this sudden generosity, and could find no words in which to thank him.

49No word, he said, no thanks, I want no thanks.

50I do my duty.

51I'm no saying that everybody would have done it, but for my part, though I'm a careful body too, it's a pleasure to me to do the right by my brother's son, and it's a pleasure to me to think that now we'll agree as such near friends should.

52I spoke him in return as handsomely as I was able, but all the while I was wondering what would come next, and why he had parted with his precious guineas, for as to the reason he had given, a baby would have refused it.

53Presently he looked towards me sideways.

54And see here, said he, tit for tat.

55I told him I was ready to prove my gratitude in any reasonable degree, and then waited, looking for some monstrous demand.

56And yet, when at last he plucked up courage to speak, it was only to tell me, very properly as I thought, that he was growing old and a little broken, and that he would expect me to help him with the house and the big garden.

57I answered and expressed my readiness to serve.

58Well, said he, let's begin.

59He pulled out of his pocket a rusty key.

60There, says he, there's the key of the stair-tower at the far end of the house.

61You can only win into it from the outside, for that part of the house is no finished.

62Gang you in there, and up the stairs, and bring me down the chest that's at the top.

63There's papers in it, he added.

64Can I have a light, sir?

65said I.

66Nah, said he, very cunningly, no lights in my house.

67Very well, sir, said I.

68Are the stairs good?

69They're grand, said he, and then, as I was going, keep to the wall, he added.

70There's no banisters, but the stairs are grand underfoot.

71Out I went into the night.

72The wind was still moaning in the distance, though never a breath of it came near the house of Shaw's.

73It had fallen blacker than ever, and I was glad to feel along the wall, till I came the length of the stair-tower door at the far end of the unfinished wing.

74I had got the key into the keyhole, and had just turned it, when all of a sudden, without sound of wind or thunder, the whole sky lighted up with wild fire, and went black again.

75I had to put my hand over my eyes to get back to the colour of the darkness, and indeed I was already half-blinded when I stepped into the tower.

76It was so dark inside it seemed a body could scarce breathe, but I pushed out with foot in hand and presently struck the wall with the one, and the lowermost round of the stair with the other.

77The wall, by the touch, was a fine-hewn stone.

78The steps, too, though somewhat steep and narrow, were of polished mason-work, and regular and solid underfoot.

79Minding my uncle's word about the banisters, I kept close to the tower's side, and felt my way in the pitch darkness with a beating heart.

80The house of Shaz stood some five full stories high, not counting lofts.

81Well, as I advanced, it seemed to me the stair grew airier and a thought more lightsome, and I was wondering what might be the cause of this change when a second blink of the summer lightning came and went.

82If I did not cry out, it was because fear had me by the throat, and if I did not fall, it was more by heaven's mercy than my own strength.

83It was not only that the flash shone in on every side through breaches in the wall, so that I seemed to be clambering aloft upon an open scaffold, but the same passing brightness showed me the steps were of unequal length, and that one of my feet rested that moment within two inches of the well.

84This was the grand stair, I thought, and with the thought a gust of a kind of angry courage came into my heart.

85My uncle had sent me here, certainly to run great risks, perhaps to die.

86I swore I would settle that, perhaps, if I should break my neck for it, got me down upon my hands and knees, and as slowly as a snail, feeling before me every inch, and testing the solidity of every stone, I continued to ascend the stair.

87The darkness, by contrast with the flash, appeared to have redoubled, nor was that all, for my ears were now troubled and my mind confounded by a great stir of bats in the top part of the tower, and the foul beasts, flying downwards, sometimes beat about my face and body.

88The tower, I should have said, was square, and in every corner the step was made of a great stone of a different shape to join the flights.

89Well, I had come close to one of these turns, when, feeling forward as usual, my hand slipped upon an edge and found nothing but emptiness beyond it.

90The stair had been carried no higher.

91To set a stranger mounting it in the darkness was to send him straight to his death, and, although, thanks to the lightning and my own precautions, I was safe enough, the mere thought of the peril in which I might have stood, and the dreadful height I might have fallen from, brought out the sweat upon my body and relaxed my joints.

92But I knew what I wanted now, and turned and groped my way down again, with a wonderful anger in my heart.

93About halfway down, the wind sprang up in a clap and shook the tower and died again.

94The rain followed, and before I had reached the ground level it fell in buckets.

95I put out my head into the storm and looked along towards the kitchen.

96The door, which I had shut behind me when I left, now stood open and shed a little glimmer of light, and I thought I could see a figure standing in the rain, quite still, like a man hearkening.

97And then there came a blinding flash, which showed me my uncle plainly, just where I had fancied him to stand, and hard upon the heels of it a great toro of thunder.

98Now, whether my uncle thought the crash to be the sound of my fall, or whether he heard in it God's voice denouncing murder, I will leave you to guess.

99Certain it is, at least, that he was seized on by a kind of panic fear, and that he ran into the house and left the door open behind him.

100I followed as softly as I could, and coming unheard into the kitchen, stood and watched him.

101He had found time to open the corner cupboard and bring out a great case-bottle of aqua vitae, and now sat with his back towards me at the table.

102Ever and again he would be seized with a fit of deadly shuddering and groan aloud, and carrying the bottle to his lips, drink down the raw spirits by the mouthful.

103I stepped forward, came close behind him where he sat, and suddenly clapping my two hands down upon his shoulders, Ah!

104cried I.

105My uncle gave a kind of broken cry like a sheep's bleat, flung up his arms and tumbled to the floor like a dead man.

106I was somewhat shocked at this, but I had myself to look to first of all, and I did not hesitate to let him lie, as he had fallen.

107The keys were hanging in the cupboard, and it was my design to furnish myself with arms before my uncle should come again to his senses and the power of devising evil.

108In the cupboard were a few bottles, some apparently of medicine, a great many bills and other papers, which I should willingly enough have rummaged, had I had the time, and a few necessaries that were nothing to my purpose.

109Thence I turned to the chests.

110The first was full of meal, the second of money-bags and papers tied into sheaves.

111In the third, with many other things, and these for the most part clothes, I found a rusty, ugly-looking Highland Dirk without the scabbard.

112This then I concealed inside my waistcoat, and turned to my uncle.

113He lay as he had fallen, all huddled, with one knee up and one arm sprawling abroad.

114His face had a strange colour of blue, and he seemed to have ceased breathing.

115Fear came on me that he was dead.

116Then I got water and dashed it in his face, and with that he seemed to come a little to himself, working his mouth and fluttering his eyelids.

117At last he looked up and saw me, and there came into his eyes a terror that was not of this world.

118"'Come, come,' said I.

119"'Sit up!' "'Are ye alive?' he sobbed.

120"'Oh, man, are ye alive?' "'That am I,' said I.

121"'Small thanks to you.' He had begun to seek for his breath with deep sighs.

122"'The blue-file,' said he.

123"'In the almery, the blue-file.' His breath came slower still.

124I ran to the cupboard, and sure enough found there a blue-file of medicine, with the dose written on it on a paper, and this I administered to him with what speed I might.

125"'It's the trouble,' said he, reviving a little.

126"'I have a trouble, Davy.

127It's the heart.' I sat him on a chair and looked at him.

128It is true I felt some pity for a man that looked so sick, but I was full besides of righteous anger, and I numbered over before him the points on which I wanted explanation.

129Why he lied to me at every word, why he feared that I should leave him, why he disliked it to be hinted that he and my father were twins.

130"'Is that because it is true?' I asked.

131Why he had given me money, to which I was convinced I had no claim, and last of all, why he had tried to kill me.

132He heard me all through in silence, and then, in a broken voice, begged me to let him go to bed.

133"'I'll tell you the morn,' he said, "'as sure as death I will.' And so weak was he that I could do nothing but consent.

134I locked him into his room, however, and pocketed the key, and then, returning to the kitchen, made up such a blaze as had not shown there for many a long year, and, wrapping myself in my plaid, lay down upon the chests, and fell asleep.

135End of chapter End of chapter End of chapter