"And yet ye cannot pay the bills! Weel, ye are doubtless aware that one gets nothing for nothing, and since ye must ask for some delay, what could ye offer by way of consideration?"

"To begin with, I should like to hear what the princ.i.p.al, the man who stands behind my creditors, wants." Williamson paused and added meaningly: "I think you know."

Mackellar was silent for a few moments.

"I'll no' deny it," he then said. "Would ye be willing to produce the notes of hand and the long-date bills d.i.c.k Johnstone has given ye and cancel them on payment of the money lent with current interest up to date? If ye insist, we might allow a little more interest, because ye took some risk."

"I'd be willing to give up one or two," Williamson answered with some hesitation.

"But no' the rest, which are no' in your hands?"

"I suppose I must admit that. But what did you mean by saying I took a risk?"

"We'll talk of that again. Are ye willing to give your word that ye'll lend Mr. Johnstone no more money, make no fresh bet with him, and no'

help him to negotiate a loan?"

"Is that all?" Williamson asked with a touch of sarcasm.

"I think the matter could be arranged on the terms I have laid down."

On the whole Williamson was conscious of relief. To do as Mackellar asked would place him in an embarra.s.sing position, but he had been afraid of something much worse.

"It needs thought," he said.

"Then I will give ye five minutes; but it may help ye to decide if I explain why ye took a risk. Ye're maybe aware that there's legislation about a minor's debts."

"d.i.c.k Johnstone would not make that excuse for disowning his obligations."

"I'm no' sure ye would have to deal with him," said Mackellar meaningly. "d.i.c.k has no doubt been borrowing money on promises to pay when Appleyard is his. Weel, it's no' certain that he'll live until he gets possession."

"Nor may the lenders, for that matter!"

"Verra true," Mackellar agreed. "For a' that, the chances against d.i.c.k's reaching twenty-one are greater than usual. It seems ye do not know that two doctors would not pa.s.s him for the army."

"On what grounds?" Williamson asked with some sharpness.

"A weak heart that might stop the first time he was over-excited or over-exerted himself."

Williamson was silent for some moments. He knew d.i.c.k was not strong; but Staffer, who must have known the truth, had not told him how grave the danger was.

"Still, suppose the worst happened. The new owner would not repudiate his kinsman's debts."

"Who do ye take the heir to be?"

"Staffer."

Mackellar looked at him with dry amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Did he tell ye so?"

"No," Williamson said thoughtfully. "I can't remember that he ever did say that exactly, but I was led to understand from the beginning that--"

"Appleyard would be his? Weel, perhaps I may tell ye something about the family's affairs. d.i.c.k's father left the house and land to the lad, with a reversion to the next o' kin, in case he died before inheriting. Mistress Johnstone got a separate portion and power to manage the estate for her son's benefit until he came of age, subject to the approval of the executors. She could appoint a guardian for the lad, to superintend his education, but she could not alienate a yard of land. It was not a will that I approved of, but Mr. Johnstone was very ill when he made it and did not listen to my objections. Maybe he hardly expected his widow to marry again. Mr. Staffer, who acted as steward for his wife, now acts for d.i.c.k; but there his interest ends."

"Then, in the event of d.i.c.k's death, who gets the estate?"

"Andrew Johnstone."

Williamson got a double shock. Staffer, whom he had regarded as the next heir, had not been straight with him; and he knew that Andrew would be difficult to deal with. Besides, if d.i.c.k did reach twenty-one Staffer's influence would cease. Mackellar was right: a serious risk attended the discounting of bills by which d.i.c.k raised money for gambling and similar extravagances. Since Staffer had played him a shabby trick in leaving him in ignorance, Williamson need not consider him and could look after his own interests.

"Very well," he said, "I'm ready to give you the promise you want if we can come to terms."

"Then I'll pay off any notes of d.i.c.k's that ye may bring me, with interest at two per cent. above the bank rate. If this will not enable ye to satisfy your creditors, I'll engage that they will give ye another six months."

"It's enough," said Williamson. "But of course you see that when I have satisfied them your hold on me has gone."

Mackellar smiled.

"Verra true; but I believe I've shown ye that it would be wiser to leave d.i.c.k alone. I'm thinking ye have sense enough to take a hint and keep your word."

"You'll find that I mean to do so," Williamson replied.

Soon after he went out, Andrew and Whitney returned. Mackellar told them what Williamson had promised, and added:

"The man might have been dangerous, but we need not fear any further trouble from him. There are two points worth noting, though I cannot tell whether they concern us or not. He's anxious to avoid anything that might damage his credit and make him leave this part of the country; and he expects some money before long. Can ye account for this?"

They discussed the matter for a few minutes; and then Andrew and Whitney hurried back to the garage.

"Our man must be some distance ahead," Whitney said. "We may even lose him."

CHAPTER XVI

TRAILING THE MOTORCYCLE

For a few minutes Whitney's machine turned in and out of narrow streets between rows of tall, old houses, and then went cautiously down the dip to the Nith. There was some traffic on the bridge, and when they had crossed, carts enc.u.mbered the road on the Galloway side.

Whitney fumed at the delay; but he opened out his engine as they entered a stretch of open road, and the wind began to fan Andrew's face.

For a mile in front of them the river-plain ran level, the stubble shining yellow among squares of pasture and the dark green of turnip-fields; then a ridge of hills rose steeply across their way.

The sun that flooded the valley with mellow light was getting low, and while the trees upon the summit of the ridge stood out sharply distinct, the wooded slopes were steeped in soft blue shadow.

"Looks like a climb," Whitney remarked. "I suppose we go right up there?"

"Maxwellton braes," said Andrew. "I expect you have heard of then.

It's an easy gradient up a long glen."