e. Of all things, it was just this libel. Whereupon I had
it set again--printed at the expense of the defence: _sumptibus moesti
rei_; heard ever man the like of it?--and here it is for anybody, the
muckle secret out--all may see it now. But how do you think I would
enjoy this, that has the life of my kinsman on my conscience?"

"Troth, I think you would enjoy it ill," said I.

"And now you see how it is," he concluded, "and why, when you tell me
your evidence is to be let in, I laugh aloud in your face."

It was now my turn. I laid before him in brief Mr. Symon's threats and
offers, and the whole incident of the bravo, with the subsequent scene
at Prestongrange's. Of my first talk, according to promise, I said
nothing, nor indeed was it necessary. All the time I was talking Stewart
nodded his head like a mechanical figure; and no sooner had my voice
ceased, than he opened his mouth and gave me his opinion in two words,
dwelling strong on both of them.

"Disappear yourself," said he.

"I do not take you," said I.

"Then I'll carry you there," said he. "By my view of it you're to
disappear whatever. O, that's outside debate. The Advocate, who is not
without some spunks of a remainder decency, has wrung your life-safe out
of Symon and the Duke. He has refused to put you on your trial, and
refused to have you killed; and there is the clue to their ill words
together, for Symon and the Duke can keep faith with neither friend nor
enemy. Ye're not to be tried then, and ye're not to be murdered; but I'm
in bitter error if ye're not to be kidnapped and carried away like the
Lady Grange. Bet me what you please--there was their _expedient!_"

"You make me think," said I, and told him of the whistle and the
red-headed retainer, Neil.

"Wherever James More is there's one big rogue, never be deceived on
that," said he. "His father was none so ill a man, though a kenning on
the wrong side of the law, and no friend to my family, that I should
waste my breath to be defending him! But as for James he's a brock and a
blagyard. I like the appearing of this red-headed Neil as little as
yourself. It looks uncanny: fiegh! it smells bad. It was old Lovat that
managed the Lady Grange affair, if young Lovat is to handle yours, it'll
be all in the family. What's James More in prison for? The same offence:
abduction. His men have had practice in the business. He'll be to lend
them to be Symon's instruments; and the next thing we'll be hea