could win away through all
these bolts and bars?"

"Is he dead, then?" asked one of the ruffians, glancing in the direction
of the bed.

"Ay, dead enough," growled another; "but here is the wherewithal to give
him a rousing lykewake!" And going to the corner he drew out a large jar
of brandy, while Meg busied herself in preparing pipes and tobacco.

Brown in his corner found his mind a little eased when he saw how
eagerly she went about her task.

"She does not mean to betray me, then!" he said to himself. Though for
all that, he could see no gleam of womanly tenderness on her face, nor
imagine any reason she should not give him up to her associates.

That they were a gang of murderers was soon evident from their talk. The
man, now wrapped in the dark sea-cloak, whose dead face looked down on
their revels, was referred to as one who had often gloried in the murder
of Frank Kennedy. But some of the others held that the deed was not
wisely done, because after that the people of the country would not do
business with the smugglers.

"It did up the trade for one while!" said one; "the people turned
rusty!"

Then there were evident threats uttered against some one whose name
Brown did not hear.

"I think," said the leader of the ruffians, "that we will have to be
down upon the fellow one of these nights, and let him have it well!"

After a while the carousing bandits called for what they called "Black
Peter." It was time (they said) "to flick it open."

To Brown's surprise and indignation, Black Peter proved to be nothing
else than his own portmanteau, which gave him reasons for some very dark
thoughts as to the fate of his postboy. He watched the rascals force his
bag open and coolly divide all that was in it among them. Yet he dared
not utter a word, well aware that had he done so, the next moment a
knife would have been at his throat.

At last, to his great relief, Brown saw them make their preparations for
departure. He was left alone with the dead man and the old woman.

Meg Merrilies waited till the first sun of the winter's morn had come,
lest one of the revellers of the night should take it into his head to
turn back. Then she led Brown by a difficult and precipitous path, till
she could point out to him, on the other side of some dense plantations,
the road to Kippletringan.

"And here," said she, mysteriously putting a large leathern purse into
his hand, "is what will in some degree repay the many a