he was staring through the
window, at one of the little stations on the line, when a boy, pointing,
said, "_Flat white nose!_" and Gourlay laughed uproariously, adding at
the end, "He's a clever chield, that; my nose _would_ look flat and
white against the pane." But this outbreak of mirth seemed to break in
on his comfortable vagueness; it roused him by a kind of reaction to
think of home, and of what his father would say. A minute after he had
been laughing so madly, he was staring sullenly in front of him. Well,
it didn't matter; it was all the old fellow's fault, and he wasn't going
to stand any of his jaw. "None of your jaw, John Gourlay!" he said,
nodding his head viciously, and thrusting out his clenched fist--"none
of your jaw; d'ye hear?"

He crept into Barbie through the dusk. It had been market-day, and
knots of people were still about the streets. Gourlay stole softly
through the shadows, and turned his coat-collar high about his ears. He
nearly ran into two men who were talking apart, and his heart stopped
dead at their words.

"No, no, Mr. Gourlay," said one of them; "it's quite impossible. I'm not
unwilling to oblige ye, but I cannot take the risk."

John heard the mumble of his father's voice.

"Well," said the other reluctantly, "if ye get the baker and Tam Wylie
for security? I'll be on the street for another half-hour."

"Another half-hour!" thought John with relief. He would not have to face
his father the moment he went in. He would be able to get home before
him. He crept on through the gloaming to the House with the Green
Shutters.

CHAPTER XXIV.

There had been fine cackling in Barbie as Gourlay's men dropped away
from him one by one; and now it was worse than ever. When Jimmy Bain and
Sandy Cross were dismissed last winter, "He canna last long now," mused
the bodies; and then when even Riney got the sack, "Lord!" they cried,
"this maun be the end o't." The downfall of Gourlay had an unholy
fascination for his neighbours, and that not merely because of their
dislike to the man. That was a whet to their curiosity, of course; but,
over and above it, they seemed to be watching, with bated breath, for
the final collapse of an edifice that was bound to fall. Simple
expectation held them. It was a dramatic interest--of suspense, yet
certainty--that had them in its grip. "He's _bound_ to come down," said
Certainty. "Yes; but _when_, though?" cried Curiosity, all the more
eager because o