Читать книгу The Short Stories of John Buchan (Complete Collection) - Buchan John - Страница 31

Miss Phyllis looked long and wonderingly at the tangled, moonlit hill. “Is this the place?” she asked.

The Earl nodded. “Do you feel devout, madam,” said he, “and will you make the experiment?”

Miss Phyllis looked at him gravely. “Have I not scrambled over miles of bog, and do you think that I have risked my ankles for nothing? Besides I was always a devout believer.”

“Then this is the way of it. You wait here and walk slowly up, while I will get to the other side. There is always a wonderful view at least on the top.”

“But I am rather afraid that I …”

“Oh, very well,” said the Earl. “If we don’t perform our part, how can we expect a hard-worked goblin to do his?”

“Then,” said Miss Phyllis, with tight lips and a sigh of melodrama, “lead on, my lord.” And she watched his figure disappear with some misgiving.

For a little she scanned the patched shadow of birk and fern, and listened uneasily to the rustle of grasses. She heard the footsteps cease, and then rise again in the silence. Suddenly it seemed as if the place had come to life. A crackling, the noise of something in lumbering motion, came from every quarter. Then there would be a sound of scampering, and again the echo of heavy breathing. Now Miss Phyllis was not superstitious, and very little of a coward. Moreover, she was a young woman of the world, with a smattering of most things in heaven and earth, and the airs of an infinite experience. But this moonlit knoll, this wide-stretching, fantastic landscape, and the lucid glamour of the night, cast a spell on her, and for once she forgot everything. Miss Phyllis grew undeniably afraid.

She glanced timorously to the left, whence came the sounds, and then with commendable spirit began to climb the slope. If things were so queer she might reasonably carry out the letter of her injunctions, and in any case the Earl would be there to meet her. But the noise grew stranger, the sound of rustling and scrambling and breathing as if in the chase. Then to her amazement a crackle of twigs rose from her right, and as she hastily turned her head to meet the new alarum, she found herself face to face with a tall man in a plaid.

For one moment both stared in frank discomfiture. Miss Phyllis was horribly alarmed and in deepest mystery. But, she began to reflect, spirits have never yet been known to wear Norfolk jackets and knickerbockers, or take the guise of stalwart, brown-faced men. The Sentimentalist, too, after the natural surprise, recovered himself and held out his hand.

“How do you do, Miss Phyllis?” said he.

The girl gasped, and then a light of recognition came into her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Grey?” she asked.

“Surely I have the first right to the question,” the man said, smiling.

“Then, if you must know, I am looking for the customary spirit to tell the future. I thought you were the thing, and was fearfully scared.”

“But who told you that story, Miss Phyllis? I did not think you would have been so credulous. Your part was always the acute critic’s.”

“Then you were wrong,” said the girl, with emphasis. “Besides, it was Charlie Erskine’s doing. He brought me here, and is faithfully keeping his compact at the other side of the hill.”

“Well, well, Callowa had always a queer way of entertaining his guests. But there, Miss Phyllis, I have not seen civilisation for weeks, and am half inclined to believe in things myself. Never again shall you taunt me with ‘boyish enthusiasm.’ Was not that your phrase?”

“I have sinned,” said the girl, “but don’t talk of it. Henceforth I belong to the sentimentalists. But you must not spoil my plans. I must get to the top and wait devoutly on the tertium quid. You can wait here or go round the foot and meet us at the other side. You have made me feel sceptical already.”

“I am at your service, my lady, and I hope you will get good news from the fairy-folk when….”

But at this juncture something held the speech and eyes of both. A figure came wildly over the brow of the hill, as if running for dear life, and took the slope in great bounds through brake and bramble and heather-tussock. Onward it came with frantic arms and ineffectual cries. Suddenly it caught sight of the two as they stood at the hill-foot, the girl in white which showed dimly beneath her cloak, and the square figure of the man. It drew itself up in a spasm, stood one moment in uncomprehending terror, and then flung itself whimpering at their feet.