The Gleam in the North. D. K. Broster

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СКАЧАТЬ the servants!” said Captain Jackson to a soldier near the door. “No, wait a moment!” He turned again and pointed at Donald, standing at his mother’s side, his eyes fixed on the captive, who, for his part, was now looking out of the window. “You, boy, do you know who this man is?”

      “Must you drag in a small child——” began Alison indignantly.

      “If you will not answer, yes,” retorted the Englishman. “And he is quite of an age to supplement your unwillingness, madam. Come, boy”—he advanced a little on Donald, “don’t be frightened; I am not going to hurt you. Just tell me now, have you ever seen this man before?”

      The question appeared to Donald extremely amusing, and, since he was not at all frightened, but merely excited, he gave a little laugh.

      “Oh yes, sir.”

      “How often?”

      His mother’s hand on his shoulder gave him a warning pressure. “I . . . I could not count.”

      “Six times—seven times? More? He comes here often, then?”

      Donald considered. One could not say that Father came here; he was here. “No, sir.”

      “He does not come often, eh? How long has he been here this time?”

      Donald, a little perplexed, glanced up at his mother. What was he to say to this? But Captain Jackson now took steps to prevent his receiving any more assistance from that source. He stretched out a hand.

      “No, thank you, Mrs. Cameron! If you won’t speak you shan’t prompt either! Come here, boy.” He drew Donald, without roughness, away, and placed him more in the middle of the room, with his back to his mother. “Have you ever heard this gentleman called ‘Sinclair’?” he asked. “Now, tell the truth!”

      Donald told it. “No, never!” he replied, shaking his golden head.

      “I thought as much! Well now, my boy, I’ll make a guess at what you have heard him called, and you shall tell me if I guess right, eh?” And Captain Jackson, attempting heartiness, smiled somewhat sourly.

      “I’ll not promise,” said the child cautiously.

      “The young devil has been primed!” said the soldier under his breath. Then he shot his query at him as suddenly as possible. “His name is the same as yours—Cameron!”

      Taken aback by this, Donald wrinkled his brows and said nothing.

      “With ‘Doctor’ in front of it—‘Doctor Cameron’?” pursued the inquisitor. “Now, have I not guessed right?”

      “Oh no, sir,” said Donald, relieved.

      Ewen was no longer looking out of the window, and he was frowning more than Captain Jackson had frowned. He had never foreseen Donald’s being harried with questions. “Do you imagine,” he broke in suddenly, “that a man in my shoes is like to have his real name flung about in the hearing of a small child?”

      Captain Jackson paid no heed to this remark. “Now, my boy, you can remember the name quite well if you choose, of that I’m sure. If you don’t choose . . .” He paused suggestively.

      “Take your hand off that child’s shoulder!” commanded Ardroy in a voice so dangerous that, though he had not moved, his guards instinctively took a fresh grip of him.

      “Oho!” said Captain Jackson, transferring his attention at once from the little boy, “is that where the wind blows from? This young mule is a relative of yours?”

      “Is that the only reason a man may have for objecting to see a small child bullied?” asked Ewen hotly. “ ’Tis not the only one in Scotland, I assure you, whatever you English may feel about the matter.”

      But Captain Jackson declined to follow this red herring. “It lies entirely with you, ‘Mr. Sinclair’, to prevent any further questioning.”

      “No, it does not!” declared Ewen. “I have told you once, sir, that a man in my position does not have his real name cried to all the winds of heaven. Lady Ardroy herself is ignorant of it: she took me in knowing only that I was in need of rest and shelter. I do not wish her to learn it, lest Mr. Cameron, when he returns, be not best pleased to find whom she has been housing in his absence. But I will tell you my name at Fort William—if, indeed, your commanding officer there do not find it out first.”

      This excursion into romance—a quite sudden inspiration on its author’s part—really shook Captain Jackson for a moment, since he was well aware that there were divisions, and sharp ones, among the Jacobites. Yet from Doctor Kincaid’s account Ewen Cameron himself, two days ago, had answered for ‘Mr. Sinclair’. As he stood undecided, enlightenment came to him from a most unexpected quarter.

      “Father,” suddenly said a high, clear little voice, “Father, has you finded them?”

      “What’s this?” The English officer swung round—indeed, every man in the room turned to look at the small figure which, quite unobserved, even by Alison, had strayed in through the open door. And before anyone had tried to stop him Keith had pattered forward and seized his father round the legs. “My comed down to look for mine deers,” he announced, smiling up at him. “Who is all these peoples?”

      It was the last query about identity asked that evening. Ewen saw that the game was up, and, the soldiers who held him having, perhaps unconsciously, loosed their hold at this gentle and unexpected arrival, he stooped and caught up the wrecker of his gallant scheme. “No, my wee bird, I have not found your deers . . . I have been found myself,” he whispered, and could not keep a smile from the lips which touched that velvet cheek.

      But the implications of this unlooked-for greeting had now burst upon Captain Jackson with shattering force. Half-inarticulate with rage, he strode forward and shook his fist in the prisoner’s face. “You . . . you liar! You are yourself Ewen Cameron!”

      “Pray do not terrify this child also,” observed the culprit coolly, for Keithie, after one look at the angry soldier, had hidden his face on his father’s shoulder. “He is only three years old, and not worthy of your attentions!”

      Captain Jackson fairly gibbered. “You think that you have fooled me—you and your lady there! You’ll soon find out at Fort William who is the fool! Put that child down!”

      “Please make that red gentleman go away!” petitioned a small voice from the neighbourhood of Ardroy’s neck.

      “That’s out of my power, I fear, my darling,” replied the young man. “And you had better go to Mother now.” Since, with the child in his arms, not a soldier seemed disposed to hinder him, he walked calmly across the room and put Keithie into Alison’s, whence he contemplated Captain Jackson with a severe and heavenly gaze.

      “Well, now that this charming domestic interlude is over,” snapped that officer, “perhaps, sir, you will vouchsafe some explanation of your conduct in leading my men this dance, and in striving to hide your identity in your own house in this ridiculous fashion? ‘When Mr. Cameron returns’, forsooth!”

      Again Ewen, usually a punctiliously truthful person, was inspired to a flight of imagination. “I admit that it was foolish of me,” he replied СКАЧАТЬ