“Nay, nay, gude sir; let’s take them ourselves. Stop the hole up where they come in, and then we can ring if ye like; but while we’re ringing bells they’ll be off, and only to come again.”
Giving up the leadership to his servant, Sir Murray followed him into the corridor, and from thence to the grand staircase, but all was still. Hastily descending to the library, the unrepaired door was found—like the window—wide open, when Sandy’s first step was to close both carefully, and then rejoin his master.
“Heard anything, sir?” he whispered.
“Not a sound,” said Sir Murray, hoarsely; “but, do you think they are burglars? Stay here an instant, while I ascend to her ladyship’s room,” he said, hurriedly, as a thought—a base, suspicious thought of a meditated elopement—crossed his mind. “They may have gone that way.”
“Hoot, mon, stay where ye are,” whispered Sandy. “D’ye hear that? They’re packing up the plate, and—hist! look there,” he said, in a low tone, as a faint light shone in the distance on their right, making plain the face of a man standing in the second of the suite of drawing-rooms, the doors of which had been set wide open.
Sandy recognised the face at the same instant as Sir Murray, and the same name rose to their lips, McCray muttering fiercely:
“Stop ye here, Sir Mooray, and lay hold of the de’ils taking the plate. They winna face yer pistols. I’ll deal with this one.”
Thrusting his master aside, McCray stepped lightly over the soft carpets, followed for a few seconds by the baronet’s eyes, but the light then faded away, and as Sir Murray stood, now breathing hard and excited, as he felt that it was indeed a burglary in progress, he heard a muttered oath, the crashing over of a set of fire-irons, the heavy sounds of blows, and knocking down of furniture, followed directly after by a rapid rush, and he felt himself dashed to the ground, one pistol exploding as he fell; but he was up again the next moment, to be knocked down with greater violence than before, as a Scotch oath rang in his ear; and then, at the same instant, there was a crash and splintering of glass, and as he rose to his feet, he became aware that those who had knocked him down had gone through the library and leapt boldly through the closed window, the night wind now coming with a loud sigh through the shivered panes.
“The scoundrel has escaped, and the other gone in pursuit,” muttered Sir Murray, just as loud shrieks for help were heard from above-stairs, followed by the loud ringing of the alarm-bell.
The next minute lights were held over the balustrade, and timid faces were seen, gazing down; but the lights also revealed to Sir Murray’s gaze the crape-veiled features of two men, each bearing a bag, which now, upon finding that they were discovered, they dropped, with a loud, jingling noise, upon the stone floor—a sound which told plainly enough of their contents.