e who could use his sword indifferently well, and puts no great value
on his life, could not find service on the border. How long do you stay
here?"

This was a question that had been arranged, for had they been seen
speaking privately together, it might have aroused suspicion.

"Methinks I shall stay here two days, to get rid of my leg weariness. I
am not so accustomed to long marching as you are."

The real meaning of the question, as arranged, was, "Have you found out
where the prisoners are kept?"

The answer meant "Yes, and it will not be difficult to get at them."

The evening before, indeed, when he returned with the priest to his
chamber, they had broached a bottle together. The priest, on his part,
had asked many questions as to the state of things in Edinburgh, and
Dunbar; what were the opinions of people with regard to the Duke of
Albany, and the Prince; and what would probably come of the coldness
that was said to exist between them.

Roger was able to conceal his ignorance of these matters by saying that
he knew little of what was passing, for that he had been the cellarer
in the convent, and went out but little. Nevertheless, he had kept his
ears open; as they rode north to Jedburgh, he had heard a good deal of
talk and speculation, and was able to give various pieces of news that
had not before reached the ears of the priest. He was not long in
discovering that the latter was ill satisfied with his present
position, and was ambitious to take part in more important affairs, and
he presently said:

"I wonder, father, that a man of your ability should be content to
remain as chaplain in a border hold, when there are so many
opportunities beyond, for one like you, to make his way in the church."

"In truth," the priest said, "I have had such thoughts myself; and
hope, some day, to see a little more of the world.

"By the way, can you read and write, brother?" he asked suddenly.

"Assuredly," Roger replied.

He guessed, at once, that the question had been put at the instigation
of William Baird; who perhaps still had some doubts whether he was
really a monk, and an affirmative answer would be an almost conclusive
proof that he was so, for very few outside the walls of the convents,
even among the nobles and knights, possessed any knowledge of letters.

"I have a missal here," the priest said carelessly, "that has somewhat
troubled me, being written in a cramped hand. Perhaps you could read it
for