The two of them emerged from that into a dimly lighted passage along which they proceeded without a sound as far as another door which opened outward on to the lower battlements at the seaward front of the castle.
"Let me through first," requested Farish M'Kissock, after his companion had made sure that there was no one beyond it, "and mind that the wind doesn't drive it shut with a clash." He was firmer upon his feet now and seemed to have gained some measure of strength from the stimulus of his stubborn purpose. Bare-foot as he was, he took no notice of the driving snow on the terrace outside, although his companion shivered as they turned along the wall in the teeth of the blast that was blowing.
"Get inside, for God's sake!" Lord Jura begged of the ghostly figure in front of him as it stooped to set an ear to the keyhole in the portico at the other end of the terrace, and his teeth were chattering when he entered the dark, empty closet behind it.
He had to set his shoulder to it to shut it against the storm. As soon as he had accomplished that, he shook the snow from his ragged coat and struck a match and glanced stupidly about him.
"Put that out," ordered Farish M'Kissock in a suppressed, angry whisper. "They'll maybe see some glimmer—they're all inside."
The other obeyed him meekly, and for a space the two of them stood there in the darkness, on the alert, drawing quick, restricted breaths. They could hear the echo of voices from the banquet-hall. These gradually died away, all but one which seemed to be telling some story. A distant crash, as of a dish dropped on the floor, alarmed the two listeners, but after that the conversation and laughter within went on again. The engineer crossed the closet noiselessly on his rubber soles, and, "What next, M'Kissock?" he whispered, as if content to resign himself to the guidance of the more masterful will.
"You will go in to them," the other instructed him. "Hear what you can before you declare yourself, and—you must judge for yourself what to say and do. I'll wait behind for a bit—Dove and Slyne believe that I'm safely out of the way—but, as soon as it's needful, I'll face them too. Till then, never mention my name nor any word of what I have told you.
"Pluck up some heart!" he hissed savagely. "This is the Castle of Loquhariot—and you're the Earl of Jura. But they'll out-match you yet unless you stand your ground against them."
The engineer humbly attempted to square his shoulders, and, fumbling, found the latch of the door. He opened it very quietly, enough and no more to see through into the banquet-hall: and stood there for a time studying the scene at the table. Farish M'Kissock, at his elbow, was staring out at it too, with fierce, eager eyes. He pulled the door slowly back, and Lord Jura passed through, unnoticed among the shadows in that obscure corner.
A cork popped explosively, and the butler came forward from the buffet with a big, golden-necked bottle. The engineer paused. He had recognised Captain Dove in the distance and notwithstanding the old man's unusual garb and black glasses.