stripe and ripped it off him. Then he held out his hand, and Dugald tremblingly unpinned his badge and gave it up. McGuigan dropped stripe and badge in Brenda’s lap. Dugald set off running down the road again. McGuigan closed the window, revved ferociously, and sent the Cortina leaping away.
‘Oh my!’ Brenda murmured. ‘That was really telling Dugald something.’
‘I’ve sent him to fetch the Rover,’ McGuigan growled. ‘They’ll need it to give your car a pluck.’
‘Are you always so conciliatory with your men?’
McGuigan drove some way in a heavy silence. Then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he said:
‘You’re either the laird or no’ the laird.’
They swooped through the curves near the house and braked smokingly for the gates. Here it was the misfortune of ‘MacAdolf’, or Hamish, to be in the way of his master’s wrath. Hamish, having taken in the situation, seemed to be wanting to speak to McGuigan, but before he could more than open his mouth a peal of the Gaelic thunder silenced him. The same performance was gone through again. Chevrons, badge tumbled into Brenda’s lap. At first Hamish looked sulky, then astounded, then stupefied by the storm that rocked him; and at last was reduced to staring at his feet, his neck as red as a turkey-cock’s.
‘Now, ye stupid, gangrel body, yell apologize,’ McGuigan concluded in English. ‘Down on your knees, ye glaikit fool, or ye’re for Barlinnie, and I’ll not hinder it.’
‘But I’m tryin’ to tell you—!’ Hamish wailed.
‘Tell me nothing – down on your knees! By gar, ye’re in peril of a seven-year stretch, and ye’d still chop words with me.
On your knees!
’
Hamish, gurgling, went down on his knees, but the scene suffered an interruption. The figure of a woman had appeared in the yard, and now she came running down the drive towards them. Her eyes were for McGuigan. Her expression was one of happy yet anxious anticipation. She failed to notice Gently and Brenda in the flutter of her approach. Then she saw them. She turned pale and staggered. McGuigan sprang out of the car and darted to her. She shook her head and tried to push him away, but he swept her up in his arms.
‘Jamie – no!’
‘Mary – Mary!’
She struggled weakly in his huge embrace.
‘Oh Jamie!’
‘What is it?’
‘I’ve betrayed you – Jamie!’
And she fainted away. It was Mary Dunglass.
McGuigan hoisted her up – she was only a feather to him – and hesitated a second; then he gave a jerk of his head to Gently and Brenda and went striding off towards the house. They got out of the Cortina and followed him. Hamish scrambled up anguishedly from his knees. He ran after his master and jigged along beside him, expostulating, twisting about to face the big man.
‘Och, Knockie, if ye’d only listened! I was for tellin’ ye – I kent she meant trouble.’
‘No more of that, man.’
‘Ay, but she tellt me – I kent fine about the vagayries ower at Tudlem.’
‘Whist – hold your tongue.’
‘But Knockie, I maun tell ye – the Englishman kens ye were up the braes!’
‘Man,’ McGuigan growled from his belly. ‘If ye
winna
hold your tongue, by gar, I’ll grip it an’ stow it down your thrapple!’
In the yard stood a blue Sunbeam Alpine, presumably the property of Mary Dunglass. McGuigan marched past it and up the steps of the porch and crashed open twin doors with his boot. They followed him in. He carried his burden into one of the rooms and laid her tenderly on a sofa. She was conscious again now. She was staring at McGuigan, her eyes dark against her pale face.
‘If I’m not mistaken,’ McGuigan growled at Gently, ‘you’ll be wanting a word or two with us.’
Gently nodded. ‘It could help if I understood certain matters.’
‘Ay – but first the lady must get her breath back – and then we’ll want some cracks of our own. You’ll be good enough to bide in the sitting-room, man – I’ll have Lettie
‘Oh my!’ Brenda murmured. ‘That was really telling Dugald something.’
‘I’ve sent him to fetch the Rover,’ McGuigan growled. ‘They’ll need it to give your car a pluck.’
‘Are you always so conciliatory with your men?’
McGuigan drove some way in a heavy silence. Then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he said:
‘You’re either the laird or no’ the laird.’
They swooped through the curves near the house and braked smokingly for the gates. Here it was the misfortune of ‘MacAdolf’, or Hamish, to be in the way of his master’s wrath. Hamish, having taken in the situation, seemed to be wanting to speak to McGuigan, but before he could more than open his mouth a peal of the Gaelic thunder silenced him. The same performance was gone through again. Chevrons, badge tumbled into Brenda’s lap. At first Hamish looked sulky, then astounded, then stupefied by the storm that rocked him; and at last was reduced to staring at his feet, his neck as red as a turkey-cock’s.
‘Now, ye stupid, gangrel body, yell apologize,’ McGuigan concluded in English. ‘Down on your knees, ye glaikit fool, or ye’re for Barlinnie, and I’ll not hinder it.’
‘But I’m tryin’ to tell you—!’ Hamish wailed.
‘Tell me nothing – down on your knees! By gar, ye’re in peril of a seven-year stretch, and ye’d still chop words with me.
On your knees!
’
Hamish, gurgling, went down on his knees, but the scene suffered an interruption. The figure of a woman had appeared in the yard, and now she came running down the drive towards them. Her eyes were for McGuigan. Her expression was one of happy yet anxious anticipation. She failed to notice Gently and Brenda in the flutter of her approach. Then she saw them. She turned pale and staggered. McGuigan sprang out of the car and darted to her. She shook her head and tried to push him away, but he swept her up in his arms.
‘Jamie – no!’
‘Mary – Mary!’
She struggled weakly in his huge embrace.
‘Oh Jamie!’
‘What is it?’
‘I’ve betrayed you – Jamie!’
And she fainted away. It was Mary Dunglass.
McGuigan hoisted her up – she was only a feather to him – and hesitated a second; then he gave a jerk of his head to Gently and Brenda and went striding off towards the house. They got out of the Cortina and followed him. Hamish scrambled up anguishedly from his knees. He ran after his master and jigged along beside him, expostulating, twisting about to face the big man.
‘Och, Knockie, if ye’d only listened! I was for tellin’ ye – I kent she meant trouble.’
‘No more of that, man.’
‘Ay, but she tellt me – I kent fine about the vagayries ower at Tudlem.’
‘Whist – hold your tongue.’
‘But Knockie, I maun tell ye – the Englishman kens ye were up the braes!’
‘Man,’ McGuigan growled from his belly. ‘If ye
winna
hold your tongue, by gar, I’ll grip it an’ stow it down your thrapple!’
In the yard stood a blue Sunbeam Alpine, presumably the property of Mary Dunglass. McGuigan marched past it and up the steps of the porch and crashed open twin doors with his boot. They followed him in. He carried his burden into one of the rooms and laid her tenderly on a sofa. She was conscious again now. She was staring at McGuigan, her eyes dark against her pale face.
‘If I’m not mistaken,’ McGuigan growled at Gently, ‘you’ll be wanting a word or two with us.’
Gently nodded. ‘It could help if I understood certain matters.’
‘Ay – but first the lady must get her breath back – and then we’ll want some cracks of our own. You’ll be good enough to bide in the sitting-room, man – I’ll have Lettie
Similar Books
