Count Bunker

by J. Storer Clouston

  CHAPTER XII

  "It is necessary, Bonker--you are sure?"

  "No Tulliwuddle has ever omitted the ceremony. If you shirked, I amassured on the very best authority that it would excite the gravestsuspicions of your authenticity."

  Count Bunker spoke with an air of the most resolute conviction. Eversince they arrived he had taken infinite pains to discover preciselywhat was expected of the chieftain, and having by great good luck madethe acquaintance of an elderly individual who claimed to be the piperof the clan, and who proved a perfect granary of legends, he was able tosupply complete information on every point of importance. Once the Baronhad endeavored to corroborate these particulars by interviewing thepiper himself, but they had found so much difficulty in understandingone another's dialects that he had been content to trust implicitly tohis friend's information. The Count, indeed, had rather avoided thansought advice on the subject, and the piper, after several confidentialconversations and the passage of a sum of silver into his sporran,displayed an equally Delphic tendency.

  The Baron, therefore, argued the present point no longer.

  "It is jost a mere ceremony," he said. "Ach, vell, nozing vill happen.Zis ghost--vat is his name?"

  "It is known as the Wraith of the Tulliwuddles. The heir must interviewit within a week of coming to the Castle."

  "Vere most I see him?"

  "In the armory, at midnight. You bring one friend, one candle, and weara bonnet with one eagle's feather in it. You enter at eleven andwait for an hour--and, by the way, neither of you must speak above awhisper."

  "Pooh! Jost hombog!" said the Baron valiantly. "I do not fear sochtrash."

  "When the Wraith appears----"

  "My goot Bonker, he vill not gom!"

  "Supposing he does come--and mind you, strange things happen in theseold buildings, particularly in the Highlands, and after dinner; if hecomes, Baron, you must ask him three questions."

  The Baron laughed scornfully.

  "If I see a ghost I vill ask him many interesting questions--if he doesfeel cold, and sochlike, eh? Ha, ha!"

  With an imperturbable gravity that was not without its effect upon theother, however gaily he might talk, Bunker continued,

  "The three questions are: first, 'What art thou?' second, 'Why comestthou here, O spirit?' third, 'What instructions desirest thou to giveme?' Strictly speaking, they ought to be asked in Gaelic, but exceptionshave been made on former occasions, and Mac-Dui--who pipes, by the way,in the anteroom--assures me that English will satisfy the Wraith in yourcase."

  The Baron sniffed and laughed, and twirled up the ends of his mustachestill they presented a particularly desperate appearance. Yet there was afaint 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 youmust not lose. Ask Mr. Gallosh to share your vigil."

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

  The pride of Mr. Gallosh on being selected as his lordship's friend onthis 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, Ican't refuse to disoblige his lordship."

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

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

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

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

  That very night was chosen for the ceremony, and eleven o'clock foundthem all assembled breathless in the drawing-room: all, save LordTulliwuddle and his host.

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

  Indeed they all spoke in subdued accents.

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

  "Think of the terrible suspense after twelve has passed!" whispered Eva.

  The Count had thought of this.

  "I advised Duncan to take his flask," said Mr. Rentoul, with a solemnwink. "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 terrificparticulars of former interviews with the Wraith to the youngerGalloshes, remarked that he must pass the time by overtaking somepressing 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 resultsof the meeting."

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

  Meanwhile, in a vast cavern of darkness, lit only by the solitarycandle, the Baron and his host endeavored to maintain the scepticalbuoyancy with which they had set forth upon their adventure. But thechilliness of the room (they had no fire, and it was a misty night witha moaning wind), the inordinate quantity of odd-looking shadows, andthe profound silence, were immediately destructive to buoyancy andultimately 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 thefull panoply of a Highland chief, and though he had exhibited himselfto the ladies with much pride, and even in the course of dinner hadpromised Eva Gallosh that he would never again don anything lessromantic, he now began to think that a travelling-rug of the Tulliwuddletartan would prove a useful addition to the outfit on the occasion ofa midnight vigil. Also the stern prohibition against talking aloud(corroborated by the piper with many guttural warnings) grew more andmore 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 notbelieve 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 andhad a generous swig. As he was screwing on the top again, the Baron, ina 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 drawhim?"

  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 thewindow. They pulled aside one corner of the heavy curtain, and then letit fall again and hurried back. So far north there was indeed a gleam ofdaylight left, but it was such a pale and ghostly ray, and the wreathsof mist swept so eerily and silently across the pane, that candle-lightand 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 nozingcomes--and nozing v
ill 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 themost!"

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

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

  "A wee tastie more, my lord?" Mr. Gallosh suggested, in a voice whosevibrations he made an effort to conceal.

  "Jost a vee," said his lordship, hardly more firmly.

  With a dismal disregard for their suspense the minutes draggedinfinitely slowly. The flask was finished; the candle guttered andflickered ominously; the very shadows grew restless.

  "There's a lot of secret doors and such like in this part of thehouse--let's hope there'll be nothing coming through one of them," saidMr. Gallosh in a breaking voice.

  The Baron muttered an inaudible reply, and then with a start theirshoulders bumped together.

  "Damn it, what's yon!" whispered Mr. Gallosh.

  "Ze pipes! Gallosh, how beastly he does play!"

  In point of fact the air seemed to consist of only one wailing note.

  "Bong!"--they heard the first stroke of midnight on the big clock onthe Castle Tower; and so unfortunately had Count Bunker timed the candlethat on the instant its flame expired.

  "Vithdraw ze curtains!" gasped the Baron.

  "I canna, my lord! Oh, I canna!" wailed Mr. Gallosh, breaking out intohis broadest native Scotch.

  This time the Baron made no movement, and in the palpitating silencethe two sat through one long dark minute after another, till some ten ofthem had passed.

  "I shall stand it no more!" muttered the Baron. "Ve vill creep for zedoor."

  "My lord, my lord! For maircy's sake gie's a hold of you!" stammered Mr.Gallosh, falling on his hands and knees and feeling for the skirt of hislordship's kilt.

  But their flight was arrested by a portent so remarkable that had therebeen only a single witness one would suppose it to be a figment of hisimagination. Fortunately, however, both the Baron and Mr. Gallosh cancorroborate each detail. About the middle, apparently, of the wallopposite, an oblong of light appeared in the thickest of the gloom.

  "Mein Gott!" cried the Baron.

  "It's filled wi' reek!" gasped Mr. Gallosh.

  And indeed the space seemed filled with a slowly rising cloud of pungentblue smoke. Then their horrified eyes beheld the figure of an undoubtedBeing hazily outlined behind the cloud, and at the same time the piper,as if sympathetically aware of the crisis, burst into his most dreadfuldiscords. A yell rang through the gloom, followed by the sounds of aheavy body alternately scuffling across the floor and falling prostrateover unseen furniture. The Baron felt for his host, and realized thatthis was the escaping Gallosh.

  "Tulliwuddle! Speak!" a hollow voice muttered out of the smoke.

  The Baron has never ceased to exult over the hardihood he displayed inthis unnerving crisis. Rising to his feet and drawing his claymore, heactually managed to stammer out--

  "Who--who are you?"

  The Being (he could now perceive dimly that it was clad in tartan)answered in the same deep, measured voice--

  "Your senses to confound and fuddle, Behold the Wraith of Tulliwuddle!"

  This was sufficiently terrifying, one would think, to excuse the Baronfor following the example of his host. But, though he found afterwardsthat he must have perspired freely, he courageously stood his ground.

  "Vy have you gomed here?" he demanded in a voice nearly as hollow as theWraith.

  As solemnly as before the spirit replied--

  "From Pit that's bottomless and dark-- Methinks I hear it shrieking--Hark!"

  (The Baron certainly did hear a tumult that might well be termedinfernal; though whether it emanated from Mr. Gallosh, fiends, or thepiper, he could not at the moment feel certain.)

  "I came o'er many leagues of heather To carry back the answer whether The noble chieftain of my clan Conducts him like a gentleman."

  After this warning, to put the third question required an effort of themost supreme resolution. The Baron was equal to it, however.

  "Vat instroction do you give me?" he managed to utter.

  In the gravest accents the Wraith chanted--

  "Hang ever kilt above the knee, With Usquebaugh be not too free, When toasts and sic'like games be mooted See that your dram be well diluted; And oh, if you'd escape from Hades, Lord Tulliwuddle, 'ware the ladies!"

  The spirit vanished as magically as he had appeared, and with thissolemn warning ringing in his ears, the Baron found himself in inkydarkness again. This time he did not hesitate to grope madly for thedoor, but hardly had he reached it, when, with a fresh sensation ofhorror, he stumbled upon a writhing form that seemed to be pawing thepanels. He was, fortunately; as quickly reassured by hearing the voiceof Mr. Gallosh exclaim in terrified accents--

  "I canna find the haundle! Oh, Gosh, where's the haundle?"

  Being the less frenzied of the two, the Baron did succeed in finding thehandle, and with a gasp of relief burst into the lighted anteroom. Thepiper had already departed, and evidently in haste, since he hadleft some portion of a bottle of whisky unfinished. This fortunatecircumstance enabled them to recover something of their color, though,even when he felt his blood warming again, Mr. Gallosh could scarcelyspeak coherently of his terrible ordeal.

  "What an awfu' night! what an awfu' night!" he murmured. "Oh, my lord,let's get out of this!"

  He was making for the door when the Baron seized his arm.

  "Vait!" he cried. "Ze danger is past! Ach, vas I not brave? Did you nothear me speak to him? You can bear vitness how brave I vas, eh?"

  "I'll not swear I heard just exactly what passed, my lord. Man, I'll ownI was awful feared!"

  "Tuts! tuts!" said the Baron kindly. "Ve vill say nozing about zat. Youstood vell by me, I shall say. And you vill tell zem I did speak mitcourage to ze ghost."

  "I will that!" said Mr. Gallosh.

  By the time they reached the drawing-room he had so far recovered hisequanimity as to prove a very creditable witness, and between them theygave such an account of their adventure as satisfied even the excitedexpectations of their friends; though the Baron thought it both prudentand more becoming his dignity to leave considerable mystery attaching tothe precise revelations of his ancestral spirit.

  "Bot vere is Bonker?" he asked, suddenly noticing the absence of hisfriend.

  A moment later the Count entered and listened with the greatest interestto a second (and even more graphic) account of the adventure. Moreintimate particulars still were confided to him when they had retiredto their own room, and he appeared as surprised and impressed as anywraith-seer could desire. As they parted for the night, the Baronstarted and sniffed at him.

  "Vat a strange smell you have!" he exclaimed.

  "Peat smoke, probably. This fire wouldn't draw."

  "Strange!" mused the Baron. "I did smell a leetle smell of zat beforeto-night."

  "Yes; one notices it all through the house with an east wind."

  This seemed to the Baron a complete explanation of the coincidence.