Chapter IV. I Run a Great Danger in the House of Shaws

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　For a day that was begun so ill, the day passed fairly well. Wehad the porridge cold again at noon, and hot porridge at night;porridge and small beer was my uncle's diet. He spoke butlittle, and that in the same way as before, shooting a questionat me after a long silence; and when I sought to lead him to talkabout my future, slipped out of it again. In a room next door tothe kitchen, where he suffered me to go, I found a great numberof books, both Latin and English, in which I took great pleasureall the afternoon. Indeed, the time passed so lightly in thisgood company, that I began to be almost reconciled to myresidence at Shaws; and nothing but the sight of my uncle, andhis eyes playing hide and seek with mine, revived the force of mydistrust.One thing I discovered, which put me in some doubt. This was anentry on the fly-leaf of a chap-book (one of Patrick Walker's)plainly written by my father's hand and thus conceived: "To mybrother Ebenezer on his fifth birthday" Now, what puzzled me wasthis: That, as my father was of course the younger brother, hemust either have made some strange error, or he must havewritten, before he was yet five, an excellent, clear manly handof writing.I tried to get this out of my head; but though I took down manyinteresting authors, old and new, history, poetry, andstory-book, this notion of my father's hand of writing stuck tome; and when at length I went back into the kitchen, and sat downonce more to porridge and small beer, the first thing I said toUncle Ebenezer was to ask him if my father had not been veryquick at his book."Alexander? No him!" was the reply. "I was far quicker mysel'; Iwas a clever chappie when I was young. Why, I could read as soonas he could."This puzzled me yet more; and a thought coming into my head, Iasked if he and my father had been twins.He jumped upon his stool, and the horn spoon fell out of his handupon the floor. "What gars ye ask that?" he said, and he caughtme by the breast of the jacket, and looked this time straightinto my eyes: his own were little and light, and bright like abird's, blinking and winking strangely."What do you mean?" I asked, very calmly, for I was far strongerthan he, and not easily frightened. "Take your hand from myjacket. This is no way to behave."My uncle seemed to make a great effort upon himself. "Dod man,David," he said, "ye should-nae speak to me about your father.That's where the mistake is." He sat awhile and shook, blinkingin his plate: "He was all the brother that ever I had," he added,but with no heart in his voice; and then he caught up his spoonand fell to supper again, but still shaking.Now this last passage, this laying of hands upon my person andsudden profession of love for my dead father, went so cleanbeyond my comprehension that it put me into both fear and hope.On the one hand, I began to think my uncle was perhaps insane andmight be dangerous; on the other, there came up into my mind(quite unbidden by me and even discouraged) a story like someballad I had heard folk singing, of a poor lad that was arightful heir and a wicked kinsman that tried to keep him fromhis own. For why should my uncle play a part with a relativethat came, almost a beggar, to his door, unless in his heart hehad some cause to fear him?With this notion, all unacknowledged, but nevertheless gettingfirmly settled in my head, I now began to imitate his covertlooks; so that we sat at table like a cat and a mouse, eachstealthily observing the other. Not another word had he to sayto me, black or white, but was busy turning something secretlyover in his mind; and the longer we sat and the more I looked athim, the more certain I became that the something was unfriendlyto myself.When he had cleared the platter, he got out a single pipeful oftobacco, just as in the morning, turned round a stool into thechimney corner, and sat awhile smoking, with his back to me."Davie," he said, at length, "I've been thinking;" then hepaused, and said it again. "There's a wee bit siller that I halfpromised ye before ye were born," he continued; "promised it toyour father. O, naething legal, ye understand; just gentlemendaffing at their wine. Well, I keepit that bit money separate --it was a great expense, but a promise is a promise -- and it hasgrown by now to be a matter of just precisely -- just exactly" --and here he paused and stumbled -- "of just exactly fortypounds!" This last he rapped out with a sidelong glance over hisshoulder; and the next moment added, almost with a scream,"Scots!"The pound Scots being the same thing as an English shilling, thedifference made by this second thought was considerable; I couldsee, besides, that the whole story was a lie, invented with someend which it puzzled me to guess; and I made no attempt toconceal the tone of raillery in which I answered --"O, think again, sir! Pounds sterling, I believe!""That's what I said," returned my uncle: "pounds sterling! And ifyou'll step out-by to the door a minute, just to see what kind ofa night it is, I'll get it out to ye and call ye in again."I did his will, smiling to myself in my contempt that he shouldthink I was so easily to be deceived. It was a dark night, witha few stars low down; and as I stood just outside the door, Iheard a hollow moaning of wind far off among the hills. I saidto myself there was something thundery and changeful in theweather, and little knew of what a vast importance that shouldprove to me before the evening passed.When I was called in again, my uncle counted out into my handseven and thirty golden guinea pieces; the rest was in his hand,in small gold and silver; but his heart failed him there, and hecrammed the change into his pocket."There," said he, "that'll show you! I'm a queer man, and strangewi' strangers; but my word is my bond, and there's the proof ofit."Now, my uncle seemed so miserly that I was struck dumb by thissudden generosity, and could find no words in which to thank him."No a word!" said he. "Nae thanks; I want nae thanks. I do myduty. I'm no saying that everybody would have, done it; but formy part (though I'm a careful body, too) it's a pleasure to me todo the right by my brother's son; and it's a pleasure to me tothink that now we'll agree as such near friends should."I spoke him in return as handsomely as I was able; but all thewhile I was wondering what would come next, and why he had partedwith his precious guineas; for as to the reason he had given, ababy would have refused it.Presently he looked towards me sideways."And see here," says he, "tit for tat."I told him I was ready to prove my gratitude in any reasonabledegree, and then waited, looking for some monstrous demand. Andyet, when at last he plucked up courage to speak, it was only totell me (very properly, as I thought) that he was growing old anda little broken, and that he would expect me to help him with thehouse and the bit garden.I answered, and expressed my readiness to serve."Well," he said, "let's begin." He pulled out of his pocket arusty key. "There," says he, "there's the key of the stair-towerat the far end of the house. Ye can only win into it from theoutside, for that part of the house is no finished. Gang ye inthere, and up the stairs, and bring me down the chest that's atthe top. There's papers in't," he added."Can I have a light, sir?" said I."Na," said he, very cunningly. "Nae lights in my house.""Very well, sir," said I. "Are the stairs good?""They're grand," said he; and then, as I was going, "Keep to thewall," he added; "there's nae bannisters. But the stairs aregrand underfoot."Out I went into the night. The wind was still moaning in thedistance, though never a breath of it came near the house ofShaws. It had fallen blacker than ever; and I was glad to feelalong the wall, till I came the length of the stairtower door atthe far end of the unfinished wing. I had got the key into thekeyhole and had just turned it, when all upon a sudden, withoutsound of wind or thunder, the whole sky lighted up with wild fireand went black again. I had to put my hand over my eyes to getback to the colour of the darkness; and indeed I was already halfblinded when I stepped into the tower.It was so dark inside, it seemed a body could scarce breathe; butI pushed out with foot and hand, and presently struck the wallwith the one, and the lowermost round of the stair with theother. The wall, by the touch, was of fine hewn stone; the stepstoo, though somewhat steep and narrow, were of polishedmasonwork, and regular and solid underfoot. Minding my uncle'sword about the bannisters, I kept close to the tower side, andfelt my way in the pitch darkness with a beating heart.The house of Shaws stood some five full storeys high, notcounting lofts. Well, as I advanced, it seemed to me the stairgrew airier and a thought more lightsome; and I was wonderingwhat might be the cause of this change, when a second blink ofthe summer lightning came and went. If I did not cry out, it wasbecause fear had me by the throat; and if I did not fall, it wasmore by Heaven's mercy than my own strength. It was not onlythat the flash shone in on every side through breaches in thewall, so that I seemed to be clambering aloft upon an openscaffold, but the same passing brightness showed me the stepswere of unequal length, and that one of my feet rested thatmoment within two inches of the well.This was the grand stair! I thought; and with the thought, a gustof a kind of angry courage came into my heart. My uncle had sentme here, certainly to run great risks, perhaps to die. I swore Iwould settle that "perhaps," if I should break my neck for it;got me down upon my hands and knees; and as slowly as a snail,feeling before me every inch, and testing the solidity of everystone, I continued to ascend the stair. The darkness, bycontrast with the flash, appeared to have redoubled; nor was thatall, for my ears were now troubled and my mind confounded by agreat stir of bats in the top part of the tower, and the foulbeasts, flying downwards, sometimes beat about my face and body.The tower, I should have said, was square; and in every cornerthe step was made of a great stone of a different shape to jointhe flights. Well, I had come close to one of these turns, when,feeling forward as usual, my hand slipped upon an edge and foundnothing but emptiness beyond it. The stair had been carried nohigher; to set a stranger mounting it in the darkness was to sendhim straight to his death; and (although, thanks to the lightningand my own precautions, I was safe enough) the mere thought ofthe peril in which I might have stood, and the dreadful height Imight have fallen from, brought out the sweat upon my body andrelaxed my joints.But I knew what I wanted now, and turned and groped my way downagain, with a wonderful anger in my heart. About half-way down,the wind sprang up in a clap and shook the tower, and died again;the rain followed; and before I had reached the ground level itfell in buckets. I put out my head into the storm, and lookedalong towards the kitchen. The door, which I had shut behind mewhen I left, now stood open, and shed a little glimmer of light;and I thought I could see a figure standing in the rain, quitestill, like a man hearkening. And then there came a blindingflash, which showed me my uncle plainly, just where I had fanciedhim to stand; and hard upon the heels of it, a great tow-row ofthunder.Now, whether my uncle thought the crash to be the sound of myfall, or whether he heard in it God's voice denouncing murder, Iwill leave you to guess. Certain it is, at least, that he wasseized on by a kind of panic fear, and that he ran into the houseand left the door open behind him. I followed as softly as Icould, and, coming unheard into the kitchen, stood and watchedhim.He had found time to open the corner cupboard and bring out agreat case bottle of aqua vitae, and now sat with his backtowards me at the table. Ever and again he would be seized witha fit of deadly shuddering and groan aloud, and carrying thebottle to his lips, drink down the raw spirits by the mouthful.I stepped forward, came close behind him where he sat, andsuddenly clapping my two hands down upon his shoulders -- "Ah!"cried I.My uncle gave a kind of broken cry like a sheep's bleat, flung uphis arms, and tumbled to the floor like a dead man. I wassomewhat shocked at this; but I had myself to look to first ofall, and did not hesitate to let him lie as he had fallen. Thekeys were hanging in the cupboard; and it was my design tofurnish myself with arms before my uncle should come again to hissenses and the power of devising evil. In the cupboard were afew bottles, some apparently of medicine; a great many bills andother papers, which I should willingly enough have rummaged, hadI had the time; and a few necessaries that were nothing to mypurpose. Thence I turned to the chests. The first was full ofmeal; the second of moneybags and papers tied into sheaves; inthe third, with many other things (and these for the most partclothes) I found a rusty, ugly-looking Highland dirk without thescabbard. This, then, I concealed inside my waistcoat, andturned to my uncle.He lay as he had fallen, all huddled, with one knee up and onearm sprawling abroad; his face had a strange colour of blue, andhe seemed to have ceased breathing. Fear came on me that he wasdead; then I got water and dashed it in his face; and with thathe seemed to come a little to himself, working his mouth andfluttering his eyelids. At last he looked up and saw me, andthere came into his eyes a terror that was not of this world."Come, come," said I; "sit up.""Are ye alive?" he sobbed. "O man, are ye alive?""That am I," said I. "Small thanks to you!"He had begun to seek for his breath with deep sighs. "The bluephial," said he -- "in the aumry -- the blue phial." His breathcame slower still.I ran to the cupboard, and, sure enough, found there a blue phialof medicine, with the dose written on it on a paper, and this Iadministered to him with what speed I might."It's the trouble," said he, reviving a little; "I have atrouble, Davie. It's the heart."I set him on a chair and looked at him. It is true I felt somepity for a man that looked so sick, but I was full besides ofrighteous anger; and I numbered over before him the points onwhich I wanted explanation: why he lied to me at every word; whyhe feared that I should leave him; why he disliked it to behinted that he and my father were twins -- "Is that because it istrue?" I asked; why he had given me money to which I wasconvinced I had no claim; and, last of all, why he had tried tokill me. He heard me all through in silence; and then, in abroken voice, begged me to let him go to bed."I'll tell ye the morn," he said; "as sure as death I will."And so weak was he that I could do nothing but consent. I lockedhim into his room, however, and pocketed the, key, and thenreturning to the kitchen, made up such a blaze as had not shonethere for many a long year, and wrapping myself in my plaid, laydown upon the chests and fell asleep.