When I was called in again, my uncle counted out into my hand seven and thirty golden guinea pieces; the rest was in his hand, in small gold and silver; but his heart failed him there, and he crammed the change into his pocket. “There,” said he, “that’ll show you! I’m a queer man, and strange wi’ strangers; but my word is my bond, and there’s the proof of it.” Now, my uncle seemed so miserly that I was struck dumb by this sudden generosity, and could find no words in which to thank him. “No a word!” said he. “Nae thanks; I want nae thanks. I do my duty; I’m no saying that everybody would have done it; but for my part (though I’m a careful body, too) it’s a pleasure to me to do the right by my brother’s son; and it’s a pleasure to me to think that now we’ll agree as such near friends should.” I spoke him in return as handsomely as I was able; but all the while I was wondering what would come next, and why he had parted with his precious guineas; for as to the reason he had given, a baby 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 reasonable degree, and then waited, looking for some monstrous demand. And yet, when at last he plucked up courage to speak, it was only to tell me (very properly, as I thought) that he was growing old and a little broken, and that he would expect me to help him with the house and the bit garden. I answered, and expressed my readiness to serve. “Well,” he said, “let’s begin.” He pulled out of his pocket a rusty key. “There,” says he, “there’s the key of the stair-tower at the far end of the house. Ye can only win into it from the outside, for that part of the house is no finished. Gang ye in there, and up the stairs, and bring me down the chest that’s at the 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 the wall,” he added; “there’s nae bannisters. But the stairs are grand underfoot.” Out I went into the night. The wind was still moaning in the distance, though never a breath of it came near the house of Shaws. It had fallen blacker than ever; and I was glad to feel along the wall, till I came the length of the stair-tower door at the far end of the unfinished wing. I had got the key into the keyhole and had just turned it, when all upon a sudden, without sound of wind or thunder, the whole sky lighted up with wild fire and went black again. I had to put my hand over my eyes to get back to the colour of the darkness; and indeed I was already half blinded when I stepped into the tower.