Dick Merriwell Abroad Part 3

"I would prefer something warmer than that," he said. "Have you any whisky in the house?"

"I canna tell. I much doot i' I ha'!"

"Because if you have," said the stranger, jingling some money in his hand, "I'll pay well for a stiff drink."

"I may ha' a wee drap," confessed the landlady. "I sometime' ha' it far me'cine."

"It is for medicine I need it now, so if you will hasten, madam, you need but to name your price."

The widow disappeared. After about ten minutes she reappeared with hot water, whisky and sugar, at sight of which the face of the stranger showed his satisfaction. Deftly and with loss of little time the stranger mixed his drink, tasted it, smacked his lips over it and then asked the widow to name her price.

She declined to state a price, whereupon he placed two pieces of money in her hand, and when she saw their value she showered him with thanks and called down blessings on his head.

In this manner the stranger placed himself right with the widow, whom he engaged in further conversation as he stretched his booted feet to the fire and sipped his steaming drink.

"At this season I presume few are the visitors who come here to stop?"

he questioned.

"Few ye ma' weel say," she nodded.

"Is your house empty at the present time?"

"Na, na! not quite sa bad as that."

"Then you have some guests?"

"I ha' twa."

"Two? How long have they been with you, madam?"

"They came three days gone, sir."

"And is it long you expect them to remain?"

"As to that I canna tell. When they came they said it might be they wud stay three days or more; but it is now the third day an' they have na spoke of leavin'."

"I hope my curiosity you will pardon, but it seems strange any one should come here at this season to remain so long. Where are they from, if you don't mind telling?"

"I ha' na reason to know, for I didna ask them, but London I think ha seen them none sa lang ago."

"They are English?"

The widow slowly shook her head.

"They are na like th' English. I think they may be fra America."

"I presume they are man and wife?"

"Na, na; they are brother an' sister. A bonnie la.s.sie is the girl, sir; but her brother seems na well."

"Not well?"

"Na, sir. He keeps over close to his room. If they came to see Queen Mary's prison they ha' not yet accomplisht it."

"It is not likely Americans would take so much trouble to get a look at Queen Mary's prison, madam. It must be they are here for some other purpose."

"Then what it can be heaven knows! Once I said to the la.s.sie that her brother were fra too pale, an' I thought a wee bit o' whisky might be guide fa him; but she went white an' trembly an' begged me na to gi' him one drop o' it. She made me promise if he came and asked for it I wud say there was naething o' th' kind i' th' house. I ken she is feared to ha' him drink it."

The stranger smiled a little, and there seemed something a trifle sinister about his face in that moment.

"It is a man poor in command of himself that cannot drink when he likes and leave it alone when he chooses," he declared.

"Many a guide man canna do it."

"Well, I don't understand them. What is the name of this unfortunate man, if you don't mind telling?"

"It is Budthorne."

"Rather odd name."

"But I ha' na asked your name, sir. You are na English yoursel'?"

"No."

"Nor still American. I think you must be--"

"French? Well, you are right, madam. I am Henri Clairvaux, of Paris.

Think not I am curious or prying. These questions I have asked merely the time to pa.s.s. I am walking through Scotland, but the weather is getting too cold, and I soon shall depart for the south. In winter I much prefer Italy to your bleak north country here."

At this the widow bridled a bit.

"Scotland alwa' ha' been guide enow fa me!" she exclaimed. "I ha' took notice it is alwa' th' weak that prefer the warm countries i' th'

winter. I ha' been thinkin' ma'hap it wud be well fa th' young man upstair to go south fa th' winter time."

Outside the door there was rustling. The door was opened and a musical, feminine voice called to the widow.

The man in the cloak had his back toward the door, and he did not move.

Excusing herself, the landlady hurried from the room. The moment she was gone the stranger picked up his hat and gloves and hastily rose.

"It is well enough that she should not see me now," he muttered. "I must get out at once."

He clapped his hat on his head and pulled it hard down, taking pains to make the limber brim lap over his face. Then he swiftly crossed the room to the door, b.u.t.toning his cloak over his breast.

Pausing at the door, he listened.

"The coast is clear," he whispered; after which he stepped briskly out to the front door.

Just as he was pa.s.sing through that door the girl came from another room and saw his vanis.h.i.+ng back. She clutched at the widow, who had followed her.