, and is in dependence before my own, I
would give you to understand----"

"I can understand nothing upon your explanation, Captain Craigengelt. Be
satisfied of that, and oblige me with your departure."

"D----n!" muttered the bully; "and is this the answer which I am to
carry back to an honourable message?"

"Tell the Laird of Bucklaw," answered Ravenswood, "if you are really
sent by him, that, when he sends me his cause of grievance by a person
fitting to carry such an errand betwixt him and me, I will either
explain it or maintain it."

"Then, Master, you will at least cause to be returned to Hayston, by my
hands, his property which is remaining in your possession."

"Whatever property Bucklaw may have left behind him, sir," replied the
Master, "shall be returned to him by my servant, as you do not show me
any credentials from him which entitle you to receive it."

"Well, Master," said Captain Craigengelt, with malice which even his
fear of the consequences could not suppress, "you have this morning done
me an egregious wrong adn dishonour, but far more to yourself. A castle
indeed!" he continued, looking around him; "why, this is worse than
a coupe-gorge house, where they receive travellers to plunder them of
their property."

"You insolent rascal," said the Master, raising his cane, and making a
grasp at the Captain's bridle, "if you do not depart without uttering
another syllable, I will batoon you to death!"

At the motion of the Master towards him, the bully turned so rapidly
round, that with some difficulty he escaped throwing down his horse,
whose hoofs struck fire from the rocky pavement in every direction.
Recovering him, however, with the bridle, he pushed for the gate, and
rode sharply back again in the direction of the village.

As Ravenswood turned round to leave the courtyard after this dialogue,
he found that the Lord Keeper had descended from the hall, and
witnessed, though at the distance prescribed by politeness, his
interview with Craigengelt.

"I have seen," said the Lord Keeper, "that gentleman's face, and at no
great distance of time; his name is Craig--Craig--something, is it not?"

"Craigengelt is the fellow's name," said the Master, "at least that by
which he passes at present."

"Craig-in-guilt," said Caleb, punning upon the word "craig," which in
Scotch signifies throat; "if he is Craig-in-guilt just now, he is as
likely to be Craig-in-peril as ony chield I ever saw; the loon