The Golden Scorpion, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  THE PIBROCH OF THE M'GREGORS

  Dr. Stuart awoke in the morning and tried to recall what had occurredduring the night. He consulted his watch and found the hour to be sixa. m. No one was stirring in the house, and he rose and put on abath robe. He felt perfectly well and could detect no symptoms ofnervous disorder. Bright sunlight was streaming into the room, andhe went out on to the landing, fastening the cord of his gown as hedescended the stairs.

  His study door was locked, with the key outside. He remembered havinglocked it. Opening it, he entered and looked about him. He wasvaguely disappointed. Save for the untidy litter of papers upon thetable, the study was as he had left it on retiring. If he couldbelieve the evidence of his senses, nothing had been disturbed.

  Not content with a casual inspection, he particularly examined thosepapers which, in his dream adventure, he had believed to have beensubmitted to mysterious inspection. They showed no signs of havingbeen touched. The casement curtains were drawn across the recessformed by the French windows, and sunlight streamed in where,silhouetted against the pallid illumination of the moon, he had seenthe man in the cowl. Drawing back the curtains, he examined the windowfastenings. They were secure. If the window had really been open inthe night, he must have left it so himself.

  "Well," muttered Stuart--"of all the amazing nightmares!"

  He determined, immediately he had bathed and completed his toilet, towrite an account of the dream for the Psychical Research Society, inwhose work he was interested. Half an hour later, as the movements ofan awakened household began to proclaim themselves, he sat down athis writing-table and commenced to write.

  Keppel Stuart was a dark, good-looking man of about thirty-two, aneasy-going bachelor who, whilst not over ambitious, was neverthelessa brilliant physician. He had worked for the Liverpool School ofTropical Medicine and had spent several years in India studying snakepoisons. His purchase of this humdrum suburban practice had beendictated by a desire to make a home for a girl who at the eleventhhour had declined to share it. Two years had elapsed since then, butthe shadow still lay upon Stuart's life, its influence being revealedin a certain apathy, almost indifference, which characterised hisprofessional conduct.

  His account of the dream completed, he put the paper into apigeon-hole and forgot all about the matter. That day seemed to bemore than usually dull and the hours to drag wearily on. He wasconscious of a sort of suspense. He was waiting for something, or forsomeone. He did not choose to analyse this mental condition. Had hedone so, the explanation was simple--and one that he dared not face.

  At about ten o'clock that night, having been called out to a case, hereturned to his house, walking straight into the study as was hiscustom and casting a light Burberry with a soft hat upon the sofabeside his stick and bag. The lamps were lighted, and the book-linedroom, indicative of a studious and not over-wealthy bachelor, lookedcheerful enough with the firelight dancing on the furniture.

  Mrs. M'Gregor, a grey-haired Scotch lady, attired with scrupulousneatness, was tending the fire at the moment, and hearing Stuart comein she turned and glanced at him.

  "A fire is rather superfluous to-night, Mrs. M'Gregor," he said. "Ifound it unpleasantly warm walking."

  "May is a fearsome treacherous month, Mr. Keppel," replied the oldhousekeeper, who from long association with the strugglingpractitioner had come to regard him as a son. "An' a wheen o' drylogs is worth a barrel o' pheesic. To which I would add that if ye'rehintin' it's time ye shed ye're woolsies for ye're summer wear, all Ihave to reply is that I hope sincerely ye're patients are moreprudent than yoursel'."

  She placed his slippers in the fender and took up the hat, stick andcoat from the sofa. Stuart laughed.

  "Most of the neighbors exhibit their wisdom by refraining frombecoming patients of mine, Mrs. M'Gregor."

  "That's no weesdom; it's just preejudice.""Prejudice!" cried Stuart, dropping down upon the sofa.

  "Aye," replied Mrs. M'Gregor firmly--"preejudice! They're no' thatdaft but they're well aware o' who's the cleverest physeecian in thedeestrict, an' they come to nane other than Dr. Keppel Stuart whenthey're sair sick and think they're dying; but ye'll never establishthe practice you desairve, Mr. Keppel--never--until--"

  "Until when, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

  "Until ye take heed of an auld wife's advice and find a newhousekeeper."

  "Mrs. M'Gregor!" exclaimed Stuart with concern. "You don't mean thatyou want to desert me? After--let me see--how many years is it,Mrs. M'Gregor?"

  "Thirty years come last Shrove Tuesday; I dandled ye on my knee, andeh! but ye were bonny! God forbid, but I'd like to see ye thriving asye desairve, and that ye'll never do whilst ye're a bachelor."

  "Oh!" cried Stuart, laughing again--"oh, that's it, is it? So youwould like me to find some poor inoffensive girl to share my struggles?"

  Mrs. M'Gregor nodded wisely. "She'd have nane so many to share. Iknow ye think I'm old-fashioned, Mr. Keppel and it may be I am; butI do assure you I would be sair harassed, if stricken to my bed--which,please God, I won't be--to receive the veesits of a pairsonable youngbachelor--"

  "Er--Mrs. M'Gregor!" interrupted Stuart, coughing in mockrebuke--"quite so! I fancy we have discussed this point before, andas you say your ideas are a wee bit, just a wee bit, behind the times.On this particular point I mean. But I am very grateful to you, verysincerely grateful, for your disinterested kindness; and if ever Ishould follow your advice----"

  Mrs. M'Gregor interrupted him, pointing to his boots. "Ye're no' thatdaft as to sit in wet boots?"

  "Really they are perfectly dry. Except for a light shower thisevening, there has been no rain for several days. However, I may aswell, since I shall not be going out again."

  He began to unlace his boots as Mrs. M'Gregor pulled the whitecasement curtains across the windows and then prepared to retire. Herhand upon the door knob, she turned again to Stuart.

  "The foreign lady called half an hour since, Mr. Keppel."

  Stuart desisted from unlacing his boots and looked up with livelyinterest. "Mlle. Dorian! Did she leave any message?"

  "She obsairved that she might repeat her veesit later," repliedMrs. M'Gregor, and, after a moment's hesitation; "she awaited ye'rereturn with exemplary patience."

  "Really, I am sorry I was detained," declared Stuart, replacing hisboot. "How long has she been gone, then?"

  "Just the now. No more than two or three minutes. I trust she is noworse."

  "Worse!"

  "The lass seemed o'er anxious to see you."

  "Well, you know, Mrs. M'Gregor, she comes a considerable distance."

  "So I am given to understand, Mr. Keppel," replied the old lady;"and in a grand luxurious car."

  Stuart assumed an expression of perplexity to hide his embarrassment."Mrs. M'Gregor," he said rather ruefully, "you watch over me astenderly as my own mother would have done. I have observed a certainrestraint in your manner whenever you have had occasion to refer toMlle. Dorian. In what way does she differ from my other ladypatients?" And even as he spoke the words he knew in his heart thatshe differed from every other woman in the world.

  Mrs. M'Gregor sniffed. "Do your other lady patients wear furs thatyour airnings for six months could never pay for, Mr. Keppel?" sheinquired.

  "No, unfortunately they pin their faith, for the most part, to gailycoloured shawls. All the more reason why I should bless the accidentwhich led Mlle. Dorian to my door."

  Mrs. M'Gregor, betraying, in her interest, real suspicion, murmured_sotto voce_: "Then she _is_ a patient?"

  "What's that?" asked Stuart, regarding her surprisedly. "A patient?Certainly. She suffers from insomnia."

  "I'm no' surprised to hear it."

  "What do you mean, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

  "Now, Mr. Keppel, laddie, ye're angry with me, and like enough I ama meddlesome auld woman. But I know what a man will do for shiningeen and a winsome face--nane better to my sorrow--and twa times haveI heard the Warning."

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bsp; Stuart stood up in real perplexity. "Pardon my density, Mrs.M'Gregor, but--er--the Warning? To what 'warning' do you refer?"

  Seating herself in the chair before the writing-table, Mrs. M'Gregorshook her head pensively. "What would it be," she said softly, "butthe Pibroch o' the M'Gregors?"

  Stuart came across and leaned upon a corner of the table. "ThePibroch of the M'Gregors?" he repeated.

  "Nane other. 'Tis said to be Rob Roy's ain piper that gives warningwhen danger threatens ane o' the M'Gregors or any they love."

  Stuart restrained a smile, and, "A well-meaning but melancholyretainer!" he commented.

  "As well as I hear you now, laddie, I heard the pibroch on the day acertain woman first crossed my threshold, nigh thirty years ago, inInverary. And as plainly as I heard it wailing then, I heard it thefirst evening that Miss Dorian came to this house!"

  Torn between good-humoured amusement and real interest, "If I rememberrightly," said Stuart, "Mlle. Dorian first called here just a week ago,and immediately before I returned from an Infirmary case?"

  "Your memory is guid, Mr. Keppel."

  "And when, exactly, did you hear this Warning?"

  "Twa minutes before you entered the house; and I heard it again thenow."

  "What! you heard it to-night?"

  "I heard it again just the now and I lookit out the window."

  "Did you obtain a glimpse of Rob Roy's piper?"

  "Ye're laughing at an old wife, laddie. No, but I saw Miss Dorian awayin her car and twa minutes later I saw yourself coming round thecorner."

  "If she had only waited another two minutes," murmured Stuart. "Nomatter; she may return. And are these the only occasions upon whichyou have heard this mysterious sound, Mrs. M'Gregor?"

  "No, Master Keppel, they are not. I assure ye something threatens. Itwakened me up in the wee sma' hours last night--the piping--an' I layawake shaking for long eno'."

  "How extraordinary. Are you sure your imagination is not playing youtricks?"

  "Ah, you're no' takin' me seriously, laddie."

  "Mrs. M'Gregor"--he leaned across the table and rested his hands uponher shoulders--"you are a second mother to me, your care makes me feellike a boy again; and in these grey days it's good to feel like a boyagain. You think I am laughing at you, but I'm not. The strangetradition of your family is associated with a tragedy in your life;therefore I respect it. But have no fear with regard to Mlle. Dorian.In the first place she is a patient; in the second--I am merely apenniless suburban practitioner. Good-night, Mrs. M'Gregor. Don'tthink of waiting up. Tell Mary to show Mademoiselle in here directlyshe arrives--that is if she really returns."

  Mrs. M'Gregor stood up and walked slowly to the door. "I'll showMademoiselle in mysel', Mr. Keppel," she said,--"and show her out."

  She closed the door very quietly.