“This was immediately after the murder?”

“It was.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“I did.”

“You had known him before, I think?” says my lord, carelessly.

“I cannot guess your reason for so thinking, my lord,” I replied, “but such is the fact.”

“And when did you part with him again?” said he.

“I reserve my answer,” said I.  “The question will be put to me at the assize.”

“Mr. Balfour,” said he, “will you not understand that all this is without prejudice to yourself?  I have promised you life and honour; and, believe me, I can keep my word.  You are therefore clear of all anxiety.  Alan, it appears, you suppose you can protect; and you talk to me of your gratitude, which I think (if you push me) is not ill-deserved.  There are a great many different considerations all pointing the same way; and I will never be persuaded that you could not help us (if you chose) to put salt on Alan’s tail.”

“My lord,” said I, “I give you my word I do not so much as guess where Alan is.”

He paused a breath.  “Nor how he might be found?” he asked.

I sat before him like a log of wood.

“And so much for your gratitude, Mr. David!” he observed.  Again there was a piece of silence.  “Well,” said he, rising, “I am not fortunate, and we are a couple at cross purposes.  Let us speak of it no more; you will receive notice when, where, and by whom we are to take your precognition.  And in the meantime, my misses must be waiting you.  They will never forgive me if I detain their cavalier.”

Into the hands of these graces I was accordingly offered up, and found them dressed beyond what I had thought possible, and looking fair as a posy.

As we went forth from the doors a small circumstance occurred which came afterwards to look extremely big.  I heard a whistle sound loud and brief like a signal, and looking all about, spied for one moment the red head of Neil of the Tom, the son of Duncan.  The next moment he was gone again, nor could I see so much as the skirt-tail of Catriona, upon whom I naturally supposed him to be then attending.

My three keepers led me out by Bristo and the Bruntsfield Links; whence a path carried us to Hope Park, a beautiful pleasance, laid with gravel-walks, furnished with seats and summer-sheds, and warded by a keeper.

The way there was a little longsome; the two younger misses affected an air of genteel weariness that damped me cruelly, the eldest considered me with something that at times appeared like mirth; and though I thought I did myself more justice than the day before, it was not without some effort.  Upon our reaching the park I was launched on a bevy of eight or ten young gentlemen (some of them cockaded officers, the rest chiefly advocates) who crowded to attend upon these beauties; and though I was presented to all of them in very good words, it seemed I was by all immediately