f summoning
the warden. The outlaw stretched his benumbed arms, and bounded from the
floor of the dungeon in all the ecstasy of recovered freedom.

"Take the livery-coat of that noble prisoner," said Captain Dalgetty;
"put it on, and follow close at my heels."

The outlaw obeyed. They ascended the private stair, having first secured
the door behind them, and thus safely reached the apartment of the
Marquis.

[The precarious state of the feudal nobles introduced a great deal of
espionage into their castles. Sir Robert Carey mentions his having put
on the cloak of one of his own wardens to obtain a confession from the
mouth of Geordie Bourne, his prisoner, whom he caused presently to be
hanged in return for the frankness of his communication. The fine old
Border castle of Naworth contains a private stair from the apartment
of the Lord William Howard, by which he could visit the dungeon, as is
alleged in the preceding chapter to have been practised by the Marquis
of Argyle.]

CHAPTER XIV.

This was the entry then, these stairs--but whither after?
Yet he that's sure to perish on the land
May quit the nicety of card and compass,
And trust the open sea without a pilot.--TRAGEDY OF BENNOVALT.

"Look out for the private way through the chapel, Ranald," said the
Captain, "while I give a hasty regard to these matters."

Thus speaking, he seized with one hand a bundle of Argyle's most private
papers, and with the other a purse of gold, both of which lay in a
drawer of a rich cabinet, which stood invitingly open. Neither did he
neglect to possess himself of a sword and pistols, with powder-flask and
balls, which hung in the apartment. "Intelligence and booty," said the
veteran, as he pouched the spoils, "each honourable cavalier should
look to, the one on his general's behalf, and the other on his own. This
sword is an Andrew Ferrara, and the pistols better than mine own. But
a fair exchange is no robbery. Soldados are not to be endangered, and
endangered gratuitously, my Lord of Argyle.--But soft, soft, Ranald;
wise Man of the Mist, whither art thou bound?"

It was indeed full time to stop MacEagh's proceedings; for, not finding
the private passage readily, and impatient, it would seem, of farther
delay, he had caught down a sword and target, and was about to enter the
great gallery, with the purpose, doubtless, of fighting his way through
all opposition.

"Hold, while you live," whispered Dalge