STAFFER'S MESSENGER
Dick spent several exhilarating days in Edinburgh, although on the
whole he conducted himself with a sobriety that surprised his
companions, who were thus encouraged to leave him alone.
As they were getting breakfast on the morning they left Edinburgh,
Staffer said to Dick:
"We must start back as soon as we can, but there's an adjustment to be
made on the car that may keep me half an hour at the garage. I don't
suppose you'll mind doing an errand for me in the meantime?"
"Certainly not," said Dick.
"Then you might go to the Caledonian Hotel and see a man called
Sanders. I'll give you his room number, so you needn't bother them at
the office. Go straight up in the elevator and ask if he has any
message for me; then you can come back to the garage, where we'll be
waiting."
"He doesn't know me, but perhaps that won't matter?"
"I don't suppose so; the thing's not important," Staffer answered
carelessly. "However, since you mention it, if he should hesitate, you
can show him this."
He gave Dick a handsome silver cigarette-case, engraved with a rather
unusual pattern round the crest.
"Be back in half an hour," he said.
It was a fine morning with bright sunshine and a keen east wind, and
Dick walked along carelessly, looking at the shops. At one he bought
some gloves for Mrs. Woodhouse, and at another some delicate, quilled
chrysanthemums caught his eye. He bought a larger bunch than he could
conveniently hold, imagining that they might please Elsie, and farther
on he purchased an enameled locket.
With a box of gloves sticking awkwardly out of his pocket, and a
wrapped-up jewel case dangling by a loop from a finger of the hand
with which he clutched the great bunch of chrysanthemums, Dick entered
the hotel. None of the pages or porters asked him what he wanted when
he strode through the entrance hall; for his twinkling smile and easy
manner banished suspicion. There were very few people who ever
distrusted Dick. Staffer had chosen his messenger well.
Dick found Sanders reading a letter in his room, and thought the
fellow had been surprised when he entered unannounced. The paper in
his hand was crumpled, as if he had meant to put it out of sight, but
he turned to Dick with a quiet movement. His face was expressionless,
but his glance was very keen.
"Perhaps I ought to apologize for breaking in on you like this," Dick
said.
"It's not quite usual," Sanders replied. "The general custom is to
send in a card."
"Well, I was told to go straight up; and as I was thinking of
something else, I'm afraid I forgot to knock."
"I'm afraid you did," returned Sanders. "Who told you to come up?"
"Staffer. I understand you have a message for him. We're just starting
home."
"Ah!" Sanders' voice was quiet, but Dick imagined that he felt some
surprise. "You will excuse my remarking that, as a rule, one likes to
know something about a messenger."
"Of course; I forgot." Dick took out the cigarette-case. "Staffer is
my step-father, and he said you'd know this."
"Then you're Mr. Johnstone of Appleyard?"
Dick nodded and felt that he was being quietly studied. It was obvious
that Sanders knew something about him.
"How long have you been in Edinburgh?" he asked, and looked thoughtful
when Dick told him.
"Well, I have no message for Mr. Staffer. As a matter of fact, I was
expecting some news from him, and have not received it. You might tell
him so."
"I see; you can't reply to a message you didn't get. But I'll send him
round when I reach the garage, if you like--and there's the
telephone."
"You seem to understand the situation," Sanders smiled. "I won't
trouble Mr. Staffer, as it is not important. Will you come down and
smoke a cigarette?"
"No, thanks. Staffer's waiting," Dick said.
Sanders picked up the cigarette-case, which he had left on the table.
"This is Mr. Staffer's, and perhaps you had better return it as soon
as you see him. The thing is valuable."
Dick left the hotel, but took out the case and examined it as he
walked back up the street. It was heavily gilded inside, and he
thought the engraving round the small gold crest remarkably good. The
case was beautifully made, and must have been expensive; but he
suspected that this did not altogether account for Sanders' warning
him to take care of it. Dick's face grew thoughtful as he remembered
the crumpled letter, which the man had not had time to thrust into his
pocket. Then, it was strange that he had been unwilling to use the
telephone; and, when one came to think of it, Staffer could have
avoided some delay by ringing him up. Moreover, Elsie had told him
that he might be made use of in Edinburgh.
As he remembered this, Dick smiled. After all, he was not so simple as
he looked, and people who misunderstood his character sometimes
suffered for their mistake. His mind was occupied as he went on to the
garage, where he found the car waiting at the door with Williamson
inside. They had not brought Watson, and when Dick appeared Staffer
started the engine.
"I suppose you saw Sanders," he said carelessly.
"Yes," replied Dick. "Hope I haven't kept you; I wasn't with him
long."
"Jump up," Staffer said, as he threw in the clutch, and the big car
rolled away down the street.
The traffic was thick when they crossed the railway bridge, and
Staffer was forced to drive cautiously; and when they ran between tall
houses along the narrow highway out of the town, there seemed to be an
unusual number of carts about and tramcars on the line. It was not
until they were speeding past the last of the small villas on the
outskirts that Staffer could relax his watchfulness, and then he did
not speak to Dick. Staffer and Sanders had given him to understand
that the message was of no importance, and Dick knew that Staffer
would accordingly show no haste to ask about it.
They ran under a lofty railway viaduct and through a colliery village;
then the road led upward across open country toward a high, blue ridge
that rose between them and the south. As the car sped on, the careful
cultivation that marks the Lothian levels became less evident. There
were fewer broad belts of stubble, and the dark-green turnip fields
were left behind; no copses and patches of woodland lined the winding
road. Rushy pastures rolled away from it, the hedgerows were made of
ragged, wind-stunted thorns, which presently gave place to dry stone
dykes. Round hilltops began to rise above the high table-land where
the white bent-grass grew, and a keen wind from the North Sea stung
their faces as they climbed the last ascent. Here Dick's eyes swept
the landscape.
The Forth had dwindled to a thin, glittering streak, Edinburgh was
hidden by a haze of smoke, and the Craigs and Arthur's seat were
fading into the background of the highland hills. Ahead, across the
divide, a long, gently sloping hollow opened up where Gala Water wound
among the fields and woods. The road, however, ran straight along the
hillside, which gradually rose above it, while the valley melted
through deepening shades of gray into a gulf of blue shadow. As the
car rushed down the incline a faint white line was drawn across the
distance, and Dick, glancing at his watch, imagined it was an
Edinburgh express.
Then Staffer turned to him.
"By the way, what about the message Sanders gave you?"
"Oh," said Dick, "he didn't give it to me."
Staffer looked round as far as he was able, but dared not neglect his
driving, and so missed Dick's grin.
"But you saw him!" he exclaimed.
"Oh, yes; but he had nothing to say. He didn't know what you wanted,
because he hadn't heard from you. Anyway, that's what I understood."
The car had swung toward the edge of the road, and Staffer was
occupied by the wheel for the next few moments, but Dick imagined that
he and Williamson exchanged glances.
"Can you remember his exact remarks?" Staffer asked when he could turn
again.
"I'm afraid not. Still, I think he expected you to send him something
that hadn't come."
Staffer said nothing more, but Williamson put his hand into his
pocket, and took out what appeared to be a time-table. A thin spire
with a few white houses below it now stood out from the hillside two
or three miles away, but Dick thought Williamson would not get out
there. It would look significant after hearing his report, and he
could get a train to Edinburgh farther on. Staffer said something that
Dick could not hear, and the car raced through the village without
slackening speed.
For a time the road ran southward beside the sparkling stream, and
then wound round wide curves where woods rolled down the hollows of
the hills, until, as they turned a corner, Galashield's factory
chimneys rose about the waterside, and a haze of smoke floated across
the valley. Staffer reduced speed as they ran in among the houses, and
drove very slowly when they reached a sharp bend near the station.
"I want some oil," he said. "We'll stop here and get a tin."
He pulled up in front of a big red hotel, and they went into the
smoking-room.
Williamson walked over to the fire.
"It's a cold day for driving, and I don't think I'll go any farther,"
he remarked. "I want a few things that I can buy in the town, and I'll
go on by the afternoon train."
"As you like," said Staffer. "Your place is off our way."
When Williamson left them, Dick turned to Staffer.
"I wonder if you would lend me a pound or two?" he asked.
"I might take the risk; but why do you want it?"
"Well," Dick said apologetically, "it's difficult to bring much money
back when you go to Edinburgh; and if you don't mind I'll stop here.
If Andrew and Whitney aren't in the neighborhood, I'll come on by
train, but I expect to find them at Melrose or Abbotsford. You see, I
felt rather shabby about leaving on the day they were coming home."
Staffer did not object, but Dick thought his compliance was accounted
for by the whistle of a stopping train that was then starting for
Edinburgh.
"Andrew has eccentric tastes, but, allowing for that, it's hard to see
what satisfaction he and his American friend can get from cruising
about the Galloway coast in winter," Staffer said.
"They're fond of a shot at the black geese."
"They can get snipe and partridges at Appleyard without much trouble."
"They can," Dick agreed, smiling; "that partly accounts for it. If
you knew Andrew as I do, you'd understand why he prefers the geese.
Anything he can get easily, doesn't appeal to him. No doubt, it's a
matter of temperament, but I imagine he goes punting after geese
because it's a remarkably good way of getting cold and wet."
"Then it's only the shooting that takes him along the coast."
"Of course. I can't think of anything else. Can you?"
"No," Staffer said with a quick laugh. "But I'll admit that I don't
understand your cousin's type of character."
They left the hotel soon afterward, but Dick's face grew thoughtful
when Staffer drove off in the car. He had known for some time that
Williamson derived an advantage from exploiting his extravagance, but
he had not minded this. Of late, however, Williamson had left him
alone, but Dick did not think this was because Staffer had interfered
on his behalf. He had admired and trusted his step-father, who had
always treated him indulgently; and he now retained some liking for
him, though he was beginning to know him better.
Leaving the town he took the road to Abbotsford lost in gloomy
thought; but presently he braced himself to ponder the line he ought
now to take. After all, he was the heir to Appleyard, and although he
had recklessly ignored his responsibilities, he loved the old house.
Now, all was not well there: something mysterious was going on. Dick
held Williamson mainly accountable for this, but it looked as if
Staffer had a part in the plot. This complicated things, because
Staffer was his step-father and Elsie's uncle, and Dick cherished the
honor of his house.
He looked up as he heard the hoot of a motor horn, and his tense face
relaxed into a smile. Andrew, in the side-car of Whitney's bicycle,
waved his hand and Dick's troubles began to vanish. One could rely on
Andrew, who, after all, was a much better Johnstone than himself.
Somehow, Andrew would stand between them and whatever threatened the
honor of Appleyard.