ocility of the son," says I.

"And do you really suppose, sir, that the whole policy of this country
is to be suffered to trip up and tumble down for an ill-mannered colt of
a boy?" he cried. "This has been made a test case, all who would prosper
in the future must put a shoulder to the wheel. Look at me! Do you
suppose it is for my pleasure that I put myself in the highly invidious
position of prosecuting a man that I have drawn the sword alongside of?
The choice is not left me."

"But I think, sir, that you forfeited your choice when you mixed in with
that unnatural rebellion," I remarked. "My case is happily otherwise; I
am a true man, and can look either the Duke or King George in the face
without concern."

"Is it so the wind sits?" says he. "I protest you are fallen in the
worst sort of error. Prestongrange has been hitherto so civil (he tells
me) as not to combat your allegations; but you must not think they are
not looked upon with strong suspicion. You say you are innocent. My dear
sir, the facts declare you guilty."

"I was waiting for you there," said I.

"The evidence of Mungo Campbell; your flight after the completion of the
murder; your long course of secresy--my good young man!" said Mr. Symon,
"here is enough evidence to hang a bullock, let be a David Balfour! I
shall be upon that trial; my voice shall be raised; I shall then speak
much otherwise from what I do to-day, and far less to your
gratification, little as you like it now! Ah, you look white!" cries he.
"I have found the key of your impudent heart. You look pale, your eyes
waver, Mr. David! You see the grave and the gallows nearer by than you
had fancied."

"I own to a natural weakness," said I. "I think no shame for that. Shame
. . ." I was going on.

"Shame waits for you on the gibbet," he broke in.

"Where I shall but be even'd with my lord your father," said I.

"Aha, but not so!" he cried, "and you do not yet see to the bottom of
this business. My father suffered in a great cause, and for dealing in
the affairs of kings. You are to hang for a dirty murder about
boddle-pieces. Your personal part in it, the treacherous one of holding
the poor wretch in talk, your accomplices a pack of ragged Highland
gillies. And it can be shown, my great Mr. Balfour--it can be shown, and
it _will_ be shown, trust _me_ that has a finger in the pie--it can be
shown, and shall be shown, that you were paid to do it. I think I can
see the looks go round