d's
on't.'

'I doubt Glossin will prove but shand after a', mistress,' said Jabos, as
he passed through the little lobby beside the bar; 'but this is a gude
half-crown ony way.'

CHAPTER IV
A man that apprehends death to be no more dreadful but as a
drunken sleep, careless, reckless, and fearless of what's
past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and
desperately mortal.

--Measure for Measure.

Glossin had made careful minutes of the information derived from these
examinations. They threw little light upon the story, so far as he
understood its purport; but the better-informed reader has received
through means of this investigation an account of Brown's proceedings,
between the moment when we left him upon his walk to Kippletringan and
the time when, stung by jealousy, he so rashly and unhappily presented
himself before Julia Mannering, and well-nigh brought to a fatal
termination the quarrel which his appearance occasioned.

Glossin rode slowly back to Ellangowan, pondering on what he had heard,
and more and more convinced that the active and successful prosecution of
this mysterious business was an opportunity of ingratiating himself with
Hazlewood and Mannering to be on no account neglected. Perhaps, also, he
felt his professional acuteness interested in bringing it to a successful
close. It was, therefore, with great pleasure that, on his return to his
house from Kippletringan, he heard his servants announce hastily, 'that
Mac-Guffog, the thief-taker, and twa or three concurrents, had a man in
hands in the kitchen waiting for his honour.'

He instantly jumped from horseback, and hastened into the house. 'Send my
clerk here directly, ye'll find him copying the survey of the estate in
the little green parlour. Set things to rights in my study, and wheel the
great leathern chair up to the writing-table; set a stool for Mr. Scrow.
Scrow (to the clerk, as he entered the presence-chamber), hand down Sir
George Mackenzie "On Crimes"; open it at the section "Vis Publica et
Privata," and fold down a leaf at the passage "anent the bearing of
unlawful weapons." Now lend me a hand off with my muckle-coat, and hang
it up in the lobby, and bid them bring up the prisoner; I trow I'll sort
him; but stay, first send up Mac-Guffog. Now, Mac-Guffog, where did ye
find this chield?'

Mac-Guffog, a stout, bandy-legged fellow, with a neck like a bull, a face
like a firebrand,