A perturbing silence had succeeded the noisy summons on the oak, and Mungo, with a bold aspect well essayed, but in no accord with the tremour of his knees and the pallor of his countenance, stood, in dragging pantaloons and the gaudy Kilmarnock cap cocked upon his bald head, at the stair-foot with a flambeau in his hand. He seemed hugely relieved to have the company of Count Victor.
“Noo, wha the deevil can we hae here at sic an unearthly oor o' nicht?” said he, trying a querulous tone befitting an irate sentinel; but the sentence trailed off unconvincingly, because his answer came too promptly in another peremptory summons from without.
“Lord keep 's!” whispered the little man, no longer studying to sustain his martial rôle. He looked nervously at Count Victor standing silently by, with some amusement at the perturbation of the garrison and a natural curiosity as to what so untimely a visit might portend. It was apparent that Mungo was for once willing to delegate his duty as keeper of the bartizan to the first substitute who offered, but here was no move to help him out of his quandary.
“It's gey gash this!” whispered the little man. “And the tide in, too! And the oor sae late!”
These sinister circumstances seemed to pile upon his brain till his knees bent below the weight of accumulated terror, and Montaiglon must smile at fears not all unreasonable, as he felt himself.
“Oh! better late than never—is not that the proverb, Master Mungo?” said he. “Though, indeed, it is not particularly consoling to a widow's husband.”
“I'd gie a pound Scots to ken wha chaps,” said Mungo, deaf to every humour.
“Might I suggest your asking? It is, I have heard, the customary proceeding,” said Count Victor.
“Wha's there?” cried Mungo, with an ear to the wood, that appeared to have nothing human outside, for now for a little there was absolute stillness. Then an answer as from a wraith—the humble request of some one for admission.
“Noo, that's michty droll,” said Mungo, his face losing its alarm and taking on a look of some astonishment. “Haud that,” and he thrust the torch in the Frenchman's hand. Without another word he drew back the bars, opened the door, and put out his head. He was caught by the throat and plucked forth into the darkness.