John Buchan

“ Nothing violent, you understand, but just not quite 'wise and world-like,' as the old folk say. Well, there's a certain old lady, an aunt of Mr. Quentin and his sisters, who has always been about tenpence in the shilling. Usually she lives at Bournemouth, but one of her crazes is a passion for Huntingtower, and the Kennedys have always humoured her and had her to stay every spring. When the House was shut up that became impossible, but this year she took such a craving to come back, that Lady Morewood asked me to arrange it. ”

“ The factor was telling him lies. Now he knew where to place Mr. Loudon.
He always looked back upon what followed as a very creditable piece of play-acting for a man who had small experience in that line.
"Is the old lady a wee wizened body, with a black cap and something like a white cashmere shawl round her shoulders?"
"You describe her exactly," Mr. Loudon replied eagerly.
"That would explain the foreigners."
"Of course. We couldn't have natives who would make the thing the clash of the countryside."
"Of course not. But it must be a difficult job to keep a business like that quiet. ”

“ And will you undertake to get it some way into the House?"
"There's just the one road open—by the rocks. It'll have to be done. It can be done."
"And I've another job. I'm writing this telegram to a friend in Glasgow who will put a spoke in Mr. Loudon's wheel. I want one of you to go to Kirkmichael to send it from the telegraph office there."
Dougal placed the wire to Mr. Caw in his bosom. "What about yourself? We want somebody outside to keep his eyes open. It's bad strawtegy to cut off your communications."
Dickson thought for a moment. "I believe you're right. ”

“ If you don't, the tinklers will come back and you'll no' beat them in the daylight."
"I doubt no'," said Dougal. "But what about our meat?"
"We must lay in provisions. We'll get what we can from Mrs. Morran, and I've left a big box of fancy things at Dalquharter station. Can you laddies manage to get it down here?"
Dougal reflected. "Ay, we can hire Mrs. Sempill's powny, the same that fetched our kit."
"Well, that's your job to-morrow. See, I'll write you a line to the station-master. ”

“ They will produce somebody like poor Mr. Quentin, who was as sane as you or me, but as a rule in every generation there is one member of the family—or more—who is just a little bit——" and he tapped his forehead. ”