"A fine upstanding gentleman, sair, wi' ne'er a mean bone in his body."
"And Miss Duggan?"
"A gentle, kind creature wi' a hearrt o' gold. She'd do nought to harrm anny one, sair, and I've proof o' that—bless her! Nor Miss McCall, either."
"Miss McCall?"
"Lady Paula's companion and handy maid, sair. A leddy, if I knaws one. Engaged to Mistair Tavish, I unnerstand—though 'tis not yet given out to the gran' folk. But the' have th' saft look in their e'e for one anaither. And 'tis juist that it means. A puir freeted creatur' wi' an e'e fer the ghost o' the Castle. She'll have a fine mon in Mistair Tavish, I assure ye. And now 'tis time ye saw yer rume, sair, or I'm no a guid host ye'll ken."
So saying, Mr. Fairnish moved away from the bar reluctantly, as one stung by duty into doing something for which he had no relish, for bar and Fairnish were as synonymous as the Dawn and the Day—and almost as inseparable.
Cleek watched him with upflung eyebrow and keen eye. Then he followed, and set a hand upon the garrulous fellow's sleeve.
"Mr. Fairnish," he said quietly, "you've interested me immensely. My own fellow-folk, you know—what is it that Pope says?—'The proper study of mankind is man.' Well, it's like that with me. Perhaps I'm over-curious—there are a lot of us like that in this world. But you mentioned a ghostly visitant of the Castle just now. You were speaking in jest, of course?"
An imperceptible something passed like a shadow over Mr. Fairnish's rugged face. He gave a shiver.
"In jest ye tak eet?" he said a trifle huskily. "Weel, 'tis in airnest that I spoke. For nevair a step near the grounds will ought o' th' countryside go at night. 'Tis a lang story, and I've no time to be tellin' it thee noo, sair, but here's a leetle. 'Tis a peasant-gairl that a Sair Andrew of the sixteenth century, I ken, abducted from her propair parents (they lived in the Lowlands, so I've heard tell), and brought to th' castle and locked up—for his ain pleasure! 'Tis a sorry tale, for the puir maid deed o' a broken hearrt an' a broken speerit, too, I tak' it, nigh on to twelve months latair, wi' a leetle one juist come ter gladden her sore hearrt."