John MacNab by John Buchan

Author:John Buchan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Birlinn

EIGHT

Sir Archie is Instructed in the Conduct of Life

Early next morning, when the great door of Strathlarrig House was opened, and the maids had begun their work, Oliphant, the butler – a stately man who had been trained in a ducal family – crossed the hall to reconnoitre the outer world. There he found an under-housemaid nursing a strange package which she averred she had found on the doorstep. It was some two feet long, swathed in brown paper, and attached to its string was a letter inscribed to Mr Junius Bandicott.

The parcel was clammy and Oliphant handled it gingerly. He cut the cord, disentangled the letter, and revealed an oblong of green rushes bound with string. The wrapping must have been insecure, for something forthwith slipped from the rushes and flopped on the marble floor, revealing to Oliphant’s disgusted eyes a small salmon, blue and stiff in death.

At that moment Junius, always an early bird, came whistling downstairs. So completely was he convinced of the inviolability of the Strathlarrig waters that the spectacle caused him no foreboding.

‘What are you flinging fish about for, Oliphant?’ he asked cheerfully.

The butler presented him with the envelope. He opened it and extracted a dirty half sheet of notepaper, on which was printed in capitals ‘With the compliments of John Macnab.’

Amazement, chagrin, amusement followed each other on Junius’s open countenance. Then he picked up the fish and marched out-of-doors shouting ‘Angus’ at the top of a notably powerful voice. The sound brought the scared face of Professor Babwater to his bedroom window.

Angus, who had been up since four, appeared from Lady Maisie’s Pool, where he had been contemplating the waters. His vigil had not improved his appearance or his temper, for his eye was red and choleric and his beard was wild as a mountain goat’s. He cast one look at the salmon, surmised the truth, and held up imploring hands to Heaven.

‘John Macnab!’ said Junius sternly. ‘What have you got to say to that?’

Angus had nothing audible to say. He was handling the fish with feverish hands and peering at its jaws, and presently under his fingers a segment fell out.

‘That fush was cleekit,’ observed Lennox, who had come up. ‘It was never catched with a flee.’

‘Ye’re a leear,’ Angus roared. ‘Just tak a look at the mouth of it. There’s the mark of the huke, ye gommeril. The fush was took wi’ a rod and line.’

‘You may reckon it was,’ observed Junius. ‘I trust John Macnab to abide by the rules of the game.’

Suddenly light seemed to break in on Angus’s soul. He bellowed for Jimsie, who was placidly making his way towards the group at the door, lighting his pipe as he went.

‘Look at that, James Mackenzie. Aye, look at it. Feast your een on it. You wass tellin’ me there wass otters in the Larrig and I said there wass not. You wass tellin’ me there wass an otter had a fush last night at the Lang Whang. There’s your otter and be damned to ye!’

Jimsie, slow of comprehension, rubbed his eyes.

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