Brothers & Sisters - John & Anna Buchan Edition (Collection of Their Greatest Works). Buchan JohnЧитать онлайн книгу.
unveiled with a vengeance. He preached a mercantile and militant patriotism, a downright, heavy-handed, man-of-the-world, damn-your-eyes, matter-of-fact philosophy. Tibbets had done his work well. Everything that the Wire had urged was now fathered on the Wire‘s chief rival. The thing was brilliantly staged—the dim library at Castle Gay, and the robust and bright-eyed sage scintillating among its ancient shadows. Tibbets had behaved well, too. There was not a hint of irony in his style; he wrote as convert and admirer; he suggested that the nation had been long in travail, and had at last produced a Man. The quondam sentimentalist and peacemaker stood revealed as the natural leader of the red-bloods and the die-hards.
“What will they think of me?” the small voice wailed. “Those who have trusted me?”
What indeed! thought Jaikie. The field-marshal who flings his baton into the ash-bin and announces that the enemy have all the virtues, the prophet who tells his impassioned votaries that he has been pulling their leg, the priest who parodies his faith’s mysteries—of such was Mr Craw. Jaikie was himself so blankly astonished that he did not trouble to think how, during the last feverish days, that interview could have been given.
He was roused by the injured man getting to his feet. Mr Craw was no longer plaintive—he was determined and he was angry.
“There has been infamous treachery somewhere,” he announced in a full loud voice. “Have the goodness to order a car. I start at once for Castle Gay, and there I am going to—to—to wring somebody’s neck.”
CHAPTER 13
PORTAWAY—RED DAVIE
Jaikie lifted his head in astonishment. This was a Craw whom he had not met before—a man of purpose, with his hackles up. He was proposing to take that bold course which Jaikie himself had urged at the Back House of the Garroch, to loose the entangling knot by cutting it. But, strangely enough, Jaikie was now averse to that proposal, for he had come to suspect that business was afoot which made it desirable that Mr Craw should keep at a distance from Castle Gay.
“That’s a pretty good score for YOU,” he said.
“What do you mean? It’s an outrage. It must be at once repudiated.”
“The Wire has been hoaxed. You’ve got them in your hand. They’ll have to eat humble pie. But I’m blessed if I know how it happened. Tibbets is no fool, and he would not have printed the stuff unless he believed it to be genuine. Who has been pulling his leg? It can’t have been Dougal—he must have known that it was too dangerous.”
“I shall find out at Castle Gay.”
“There’s no need to go there—at least there’s no hurry. Telegraph to the View telling them to announce that the interview in the Wire is bogus. I’ll take it round to the office before it closes.”
Mr Craw was in the mood for action. He at once drafted a telegram, signing it with the code-word which he employed in emergencies and which would secure the instant attention of his editor. Jaikie took it and departed. “Remember to order a car,” Mr Craw called after him, but got no reply.
But when he reached the Post Office Jaikie did not send the telegram as originally drafted. It was borne in on him that this bogus interview was a disguised blessing. If it went uncontradicted it would keep Tibbets quiet; it had changed that menacing creature from an enemy to an ally. So on his own responsibility he altered the telegram to “Do not repudiate Wire interview for the moment,” and signed it with Mr Craw’s codeword. That would prevent any premature disavowal from Castle Gay.
Jaikie despatched the wire and walked slowly back. His mind was busy with a problem which each hour seemed to develop new ramifications.
There was first the question of Sigismund Allins. Jaikie was firmly resolved that Allins was a rogue, and his chief evidence was his own instinct. There was something fishy about the man’s behaviour—his premature and secret return from holiday, his presence at the Hydropathic under another name, his association with the strange foreigners. But above all he remembered Allins’s face and manner of speech, which had inspired him with profound mistrust. A hard and a varied life had made Jaikie a good impressionist judge of character. He remembered few occasions when he had been wrong.
That morning he had reached a conclusion. Mr Allins—for a consideration—had brought the Evallonians to Knockraw, and had arranged for the announcement of Mr Craw’s journey abroad. He was a gambler, and probably hard up. Mr Craw’s disappearance, if he was aware of it, must have upset his calculations, but that, after all, was the Evallonians’ concern: Allins’s task had probably only been to get them into Craw’s vicinity. There might be a contingent payment due to him if the Evallonians succeeded in their mission, and in that case it was to his interest to further their efforts. But he could scarcely do that at Castle Gay, for his connivance might leak out. No. It was quite clear that Allins had every reason to be absent during their visit.
Why, then, had he returned? To advise the Evallonians and earn his contingent payment at a safe distance? That was intelligible enough, though dangerous. There must be people in Portaway who knew him by sight, and a rumour of his arrival might reach Castle Gay. He had not disguised himself, except by posing as a foreigner, and he was walking about brazenly in the streets… The more Jaikie thought about it, the less reason he could find for Allins’s return. It was a risk which no discreet blackguard would take, and he believed Allins to be discreet. No, there must be some overmastering motive which he could not guess at.
His mind turned to the foreigners at the Hydropathic. Were they Evallonians, a reserve summoned to wait in the background? Jaikie regretted that his ignorance of foreign tongues had prevented his identifying their speech. He could think of no reason for their presence. The business was very secret and did not require numbers. The three plenipotentiaries at Knockraw were abundantly adequate… They had behaved oddly, too. Allins and another had visited the station and witnessed the arrival of a visitor for Knockraw. They had not spoken to him or to the Knockraw chauffeur, and the visitor had left in a mighty hurry, as if anxious to be unobserved. But the sight of him had put Allins and his friend into a state of considerable excitement. He remembered their eager talk at the Hydropathic door.
His reflections came to a sudden halt, for an idea had struck him, an idea so startling that for the moment he could not compass it. He needed more information. The last part of his return journey was almost a canter.
He found Mr Craw still fuming over the Wire.
“I didn’t send your telegram,” he said. “As long as the interview goes unrepudiated it will keep Tibbets quiet, so I think we’d better let it alone for a day or two.”
Mr Craw disregarded this act of indiscipline.
“Have you ordered a car?” he asked crossly.
Jaikie pulled a chair up to the small fire, which had been lit by his order, and regarded his companion seriously.
“I don’t think you should go back to Castle Gay to-night,” he said. “You’ll only fall into the thick of that Evallonian mess. Perhaps Barbon and Dougal have got it settled, and it would be a pity to spoil their game. By eleven o’clock to-morrow morning we’ll know the position, and I think that you should wait at least till them. There’s no need to hurry. You’ve got the Wire in a cleft stick.”
Mr Craw’s ire was slightly ebbing.
“I shall not rest,” he answered, “till I have run the author to ground and exposed the whole shameful affair. It is the most scandalous breach of the comity of journalism that I have ever heard of.”
“I agree. But it won’t do you any harm. It will only make the Wire look foolish. You don’t mean to give them any chance to get back on you through the Evallonian business. Up to now you’ve won all along the line, for they’ve had to confess their mistake in their mystery stunt about