Count Bunker Part 13

"The three questions are: first, 'What art thou?' second, 'Why comest thou here, O spirit?' third, 'What instructions desirest thou to give me?' Strictly speaking, they ought to be asked in Gaelic, but exceptions have been made on former occasions, and Mac-Dui--who pipes, by the way, in the anteroom--a.s.sures me that English will satisfy the Wraith in your case."

The Baron sniffed and laughed, and twirled up the ends of his mustaches till they presented a particularly desperate appearance. Yet there was a faint intonation of anxiety in his voice as he inquired--

"You vill gom as my friend, of course?"

"I? Quite out of the question, I am sorry to say. To bring a foreigner (as I am supposed to be) would rouse the clan to rebellion. No, Baron, you have a chance of paying a graceful compliment to your host which you must not lose. Ask Mr. Gallosh to share your vigil."

"Gallosh--he vould not be moch good sopposing--Ach, but nozing vill happen! I vill ask him."

The pride of Mr. Gallosh on being selected as his lordship's friend on this historic occasion was pleasant to witness.

"It's just a bit of fiddle-de-dee," he informed his delighted family.

"Duncan Gallosh to be looking for bogles is pretty ridiculous--but oh, I can't refuse to disoblige his lordship."

"I should think not, when he's done you the honor to invite you out of all his friends!" said Mrs. Gallosh warmly. "Eva! do you hear the compliment that's been paid your papa?"

Eva, their fair eldest daughter, came into the room at a run. She had indeed heard (since the news was on every tongue), and impetuously she flung her arms about her father's neck.

"Oh, papa, do him credit!" she cried; "it's like a story come true! What a romantic thing to happen!"

"What a spirit!" her mother reflected proudly. "She is just the girl for a chieftain's bride!"

That very night was chosen for the ceremony, and eleven o'clock found them all a.s.sembled breathless in the drawing-room: all, save Lord Tulliwuddle and his host.

"Will they have to wait for a whole hour?" asked Mrs. Gallosh in a low voice.

Indeed they all spoke in subdued accents.

"I am told," replied the Count, "that the apparition never appears till after midnight has struck. Any time between twelve and one he may be expected."

"Think of the terrible suspense after twelve has pa.s.sed!" whispered Eva.

The Count had thought of this.

"I advised Duncan to take his flask," said Mr. Rentoul, with a solemn wink. "So he'll not be so badly off."

"Papa would never do such a thing to-night!" cried Eva.

"It's always a kind of precaution," said the sage.

Presently Count Bunker, who had been imparting the most terrific particulars of former interviews with the Wraith to the younger Galloshes, remarked that he must pa.s.s the time by overtaking some pressing correspondence.

"You will forgive me, I hope, for shutting myself up for an hour or so,"

he said to his hostess. "I shall come back in time to learn the results of the meeting."

And with the loss of his encouraging company a greater uneasiness fell upon the party.

Meanwhile, in a vast cavern of darkness, lit only by the solitary candle, the Baron and his host endeavored to maintain the sceptical buoyancy with which they had set forth upon their adventure. But the chilliness of the room (they had no fire, and it was a misty night with a moaning wind), the inordinate quant.i.ty of odd-looking shadows, and the profound silence, were immediately destructive to buoyancy and ultimately trying to scepticism.

"I wish ze piper vould play," whispered the Baron.

"Mebbe he'll begin nearer the time," his companion suggested.

The Baron shivered. For the first time he had been persuaded to wear the full panoply of a Highland chief, and though he had exhibited himself to the ladies with much pride, and even in the course of dinner had promised Eva Gallosh that he would never again don anything less romantic, he now began to think that a travelling-rug of the Tulliwuddle tartan would prove a useful addition to the outfit on the occasion of a midnight vigil. Also the stern prohibition against talking aloud (corroborated by the piper with many guttural warnings) grew more and more irksome as the night advanced.

"It's an awesome place," whispered Mr. Gallosh.

"I hardly thought it would have been as lonesome-like."

There was a tremor in his voice that irritated the Baron.

"Pooh!" he answered, "it is jost vun old piece of hombog! I do not believe in soch things myself."

"Neither do I, my lord; oh, neither do I; but--would you fancy a dram?"

"Not for me, I zank you," said his lordship stiffly.

Blessing the foresight of Mr. Rentoul, his host unscrewed his flask and had a generous swig. As he was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g on the top again, the Baron, in a less haughty voice, whispered,

"Perhaps jost vun leetle taste."

They felt now for a few minutes more aggressively disposed.

"Ve need not have ze curtain shut," said the Baron. "Soppose you do draw him?"

Through the gloom Mr. Gallosh took one or two faltering steps.

"Man, it's awful hard to see one's way," he said nervously.

The Baron took the candle, and with a martial stride escorted him to the window. They pulled aside one corner of the heavy curtain, and then let it fall again and hurried back. So far north there was indeed a gleam of daylight left, but it was such a pale and ghostly ray, and the wreaths of mist swept so eerily and silently across the pane, that candle-light and shadows seemed vastly preferable.

"How much more time will there be?" whispered Mr. Gallosh presently.

"It is twenty-five minutes to twelve."

"Your lordship! Can we leave at twelve?"

The Baron started.

"Oh, Himmel!" he exclaimed. "Vy did I not realize before? If nozing comes--and nozing vill come--ve most stay till one, I soppose."

Mr. Gallosh emitted something like a groan.

"Oh my, and that candle will not last more than half an hour at the most!"

"Teufel!" said the Baron. "It vas Bonker did give him to me. He might have made a more proper calculation."

The prospect was now gloomy indeed. An hour of candle-light had been bad, but an hour of pitch darkness or of mist wreaths would be many times worse.