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'Have you anything in the way of terms to propose? asked the doctor, filling his pipe. 'Well, first, absolute secrecy. I alone know the state of the case. 'Has Mr. Logan no guess? 'Not the faintest suspicion. The detectives, when I left Kirkburn, had not even found the trap door, you understand. You hit on its discovery through knowing the priest's hole at Oxburgh Hall, I suppose?
Two days passed, and in the afternoon of the third a telegram arrived for Logan from Kirkburn. 'Come at once, Marquis very ill. Dr. Douglas, Kirkburn. There was no express train North till 8.45 in the evening. Merton dined with Logan at King's Cross, and saw him off. He would reach his cousin's house at about six in the morning if the train kept time.
The landscape through which Merton passed on his northward way to Kirkburn, whither Logan had summoned him, was blank with snow. The snow was not more than a couple of inches deep where it had not drifted, and, as frost had set in, it was not likely to deepen. There was no fear of being snowed up.
'What are you about? asked Merton. 'There are methods of extracting information from reluctant witnesses, snarled Logan. 'Oh, bosh! said Merton. 'Mr. Macrae cannot permit you to revive your ancestral proceedings. Logan threw down his knotted cord. 'I beg your pardon, Mr. Macrae, he said, 'but if I had that dog in my house of Kirkburn he then went out.
Merton opened it and handed it to the peer, who, after trying a pinch on his nostrils, poured a quantity into his hand and thence into a little black mull made of horn, which he took from his breast pocket. 'It's good, he said. 'Better than I get at Kirkburn.
'To Robert Logan, Esq., at Kirkburn Keep, Drem, Scotland. Merton read the letter aloud; there was no date of place, but there were the words: 'March 6, 2.45 P.M. 'SIR, Perhaps I ought to say my Lord 'What a fool the fellow is, said Merton. 'Why? 'Shows he is an educated man.
'Jean's a Lanerick wumman, he added, 'she's in service in the Pleasance. Aw 'm ganging to my Jo. Ye'll a' hae Jos, billies? 'Aw 'm sayin', the intoxicated rough persisted, 'ye're no a Lanerick man. Ye're the English gentleman birkie that cam' to Kirkburn yestreen. 'Me ane o' the polis! Aw 'm askin' the company, div a look like a polisman?
It usually does in our experience, said Merton, adding, 'Am I to write to you at your London address? Merton wondered whether the Cunzie was the title of some wealthy Scotch peer. 'And I'm off for Kirkburn by the night express. Here's wishing luck, and the old sinner finished the brandy. 'May I call a cab for you it still rains?
Douglas, of Kirkburn. 'You telegraphed to my friend Logan the news of the marquis's illness, said Merton. 'I fear you have no better news to give me. Dr. Douglas shook his head. A curious little crowd was watching the pair from a short distance. There was an air of solemnity about the people, which was not wholly due to the chill grey late afternoon, and the melancholy sea.
But his favourite abode was almost as ruinous as his cottages, and an artist in search of a model for the domestic interior of the Master of Ravenswood might have found what he wanted at Kirkburn, the usual lair of this avaricious nobleman. It was a keep of the sixteenth century, and looked as if it had never been papered or painted since Queen Mary's time.
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