Yet the people who owned the great house of Marnhoul were far away--few had ever seen any of them. Their affairs were in the hands of a notable firm of solicitors in Dumfries. How any mortal could have entered that great abode, or inhabited it after the manner of men, was beyond all things inexplicable. But there before us the blue reek continued to mount, straight as a pillar, till it reached the level of the trees on the bank behind, when a gentle current of air turned it sharply at right angles to the south. Now we heard the tramp of many feet, and beneath us we saw Jo Kettle with half-a-dozen of his father's workers, and the village constable to make sure that all was done in due and proper order. To these was joined a crowd of curious townsmen, eager for any new thing. All were armed to the teeth with rusty cutlasses and old horse pistols, which, when loaded, made the expedition one of no inconsiderable peril. The man with the crowbar applied it to the rusty chain of the padlock. Two others assisted him, but instead of breaking the chain, the iron standard of the gate crumbled into so much flaky iron rust, while padlock and attachments swung free upon the other. It was easy enough to enter after that. "In the name of the law!" cried the constable, taking a little staff with a silver crown upon it in his hand. And at the word the gate creaked open and the crowd pressed in. But the constable held up his hand. "'In the name of the law,' I said. I _might_ have put it, 'In the King's name,' but what I meant was that we are to proceed in decency and order--no unseemly rabbling, scuffling, or mischief making--otherwise ye have me to reckon with. Let no word of ghosts and siclike be heard. The case is infinitely more serious----" "Hear to Jocky wi' his langnebbit words!" whispered Boyd Connoway in my ear. "Infinitely more so, I say. It is evident to the meanest capacity--" "Evidently!" whispered Connoway, grinning. "--that a dangerous band of smugglers or burglars is in possession of the mansion of Marnhoul, and we must take them to a man!" These words brought about a marked hesitation in the rear ranks, a wavering, and a tendency to slip away through the breach of the broken gate into the road. "Halt there," cried Constable Black, holding the staff of office high. "I call upon you, every man, to assist his Majesty's officers. You are special constables, as soon as I get time to swear you in. Praise be, here's good Maister Kettle! He's a Justice of the Peace. He will hold you to it now and be my witness if ye refuse lawful aid. Now, forward! Quick march!"