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CHAPTER VI: MR CRATHIE
He was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, and the voice
of the factor in exultant wrath.
"MacPhail!" it cried. "Come out with you. Don't think to sneak
there. I know you. What right have you to be on the premises? Didn't
I send you about your business this morning?"
"Ay, sir, but ye didna pay me my wages," said Malcolm, who had
sprung to the door and now stood holding it half shut, while Mr
Crathie pushed it half open.
"No matter. You're nothing better than a housebreaker if you enter
any building about the place."
"I brak nae lock," returned Malcolm. "I ha'e the key my lord gae
me to ilka place 'ithin the wa's excep' the strong room."
"Give it me directly. I'm master here now."
"'Deed, I s' du nae sic thing, sir. What he gae me I'll keep."
"Give up that key, or I'll go at once and get a warrant against
you for theft."
"Weel, we s' refar't to Maister Soutar."
"Damn your impudence--'at I sud say't!--what has he to do with
my affairs? Come out of that directly."
"Huly, huly, sir!" returned Malcolm, in terror lest he should
discover who was with him.
"You low bred rascal! Who have you there with you?"
As he spoke Mr Crathie would have forced his way into the dusky
chamber, where he could just perceive a motionless undefined
form. But stiff as a statue Malcolm kept his stand, and the door
was immovable. Mr Crathie gave a second and angrier push, but the
youth's corporeal as well as his mental equilibrium was hard to
upset, and his enemy drew back in mounting fury.
"Get out of there," he cried, "or I'll horsewhip you for a damned
blackguard."
"Whup awa'," said Malcolm, "but in here ye s' no come the nicht."
The factor rushed at him, his heavy whip upheaved--and the same
moment found himself, not in the room, but lying on the flower bed
in front of it. Malcolm instantly stepped out, locked the door,
put the key in his pocket, and turned to assist him. But he was up
already, and busy with words unbefitting the mouth of an elder of
the kirk.
"Didna I say 'at ye sudna come in, sir? What for wull fowk no tak'
a tellin'?" expostulated Malcolm.
But the factor was far beyond force of logic or illumination of
reason. He raved and swore.
"Get oot o' my sicht," he cried, "or I'll shot ye like a tyke."
"Gang an' fess yer gun," said Malcolm, "an' gien ye fin' me waitin'
for ye, ye can lat at me."
The factor uttered a horrible imprecation on himself if he did not
make him pay dearly for his behaviour.
"Hoots, sir! Be asham't o' yersel'. Gang hame to the mistress, an'
I s' be up the morn's mornin' for my wages."
"If ye set foot on the grounds again, I'll set every dog in the
place upon you."
Malcolm laughed.
"Gien I was to turn the order the ither gait, wad they min' you or
me, div ye think, Maister Crathie?"
"Give me that key, and go about your business."
"Na, na, sir! What my lord gae me I s' keep--for a' the factors
atween this an' the Land's En'," returned Malcolm. "An' for lea'in'
the place, gien I be na in your service, Maister Crathie, I'm nae
un'er your orders. I'll gang whan it shuits me. An' mair yet, ye
s' gang oot o' this first, or I s' gar ye, an that ye'll see."
It was a violent proceeding, but for a matter of manners he was
not going to risk what of her good name poor Lizzy had left: like
the books of the Sibyl, that grew in value. He made, however, but
one threatful stride towards the factor, for the great man turned
and fled.
The moment he was out of sight, Malcolm unlocked the door, led
Lizzy out, and brought her through the tunnel to the sands. There
he left her, and set out for Scaurnose.
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