itate, he
played a bold card; it was, I suppose, suggested to him by the appearance
at that moment of the village policeman walking calmly past the window of
the little inn where we sat. He knocked, and beckoned to him, while I sat
wondering and thinking that verily the man before me was cleverer by far
than I. On the entrance of the policeman--"This gentleman, policeman," he
said, quietly and slowly, "makes or insinuates charges against me in
private which now in your presence I dare him to repeat." Then turning to
me--"The ball is with you," he said. And what could I reply? Nothing. I do
believe that at that very moment even the worthy village policeman
noticed and pitied my position, for he turned to Duncan, and, nodding,
made this remark in Gaelic: "I know Mr. Townley as a gentleman, and I know
you, Duncan M'Rae, to be something very different. If Mr. Townley makes no
charge against you it is no doubt because he is not prepared with proofs.
But, Duncan, boy, if you like to remain in the glen for a few days, I'm
not sure there isn't a charge or two I could rub up against you myself."

'I left the room with the policeman. Now I knew that, although foiled,
Duncan did not consider himself beaten. I had him watched therefore, and
followed by a detective. I wanted to find out his next move. It was
precisely what I thought it would be. He had heard of our poor chief
M'Crimman's death, remember. Well, a day or two after our conversation in
the little inn at Coila, Duncan presented himself at the M'Rae's
advocate's office and so pleaded his case--so begged and partially hinted
at disclosures and confessions--that this solicitor, not possessed of the
extraordinary pride and independence of the M'Rae--'

'A pride and independence, Mr. Townley,' said my aunt, 'which the M'Raes
take from their relatedness to our family.'

'That is true,' said my mother.

'Well, I was going to say,' continued Townley, 'that Duncan so far
overcame the advocate that this gentleman thought it would be for his
client's interest to accede in part to his demands, or rather to one of
them--viz., to pay him a sum of money to leave the country for ever. But
this money was not to be paid until he had taken his passage and was about
to sail for some--any--country, not nearer than the United States of
America, Mr. Moir's--the advocate's--clerk was to see him on board ship,
and see him sail.'

'And did he sail?' said my aunt, as Townley paused and looked