“And now, Ranald,” said Dalgetty, “strip
thy upper garment—thy plaid I mean, Ranald,
and in it will I muffle the M’Callum More, and
make of him, for the time, a Child of the Mist;—Nay,
I must bring it over your head, my lord, so as to
secure us against your mistimed clamour.—So,
now he is sufficiently muffled;—hold down
your hands, or, by Heaven, I will stab you to the
heart with your own dagger!—nay, you shall
be bound with nothing less than silk, as your quality
deserves.—So, now he is secure till some
one comes to relieve him. If he ordered us a late
dinner, Ranald, he is like to be the sufferer;—at
what hour, my good Ranald, did the jailor usually
appear?”
“Never till the sun was beneath the western
wave,” said MacEagh. “Then, my friend,
we shall have three hours good,” said the cautious
Captain. “In the meantime, let us labour
for your liberation.”
To examine Ranald’s chain was the next occupation.
It was undone by means of one of the keys which hung
behind the private door, probably deposited there,
that the Marquis might, if he pleased, dismiss a prisoner,
or remove him elsewhere without the necessity of summoning
the warden. The outlaw stretched his benumbed
arms, and bounded from the floor of the dungeon in
all the ecstasy of recovered freedom.
“Take the livery-coat of that noble prisoner,”
said Captain Dalgetty; “put it on, and follow
close at my heels.”
The outlaw obeyed. They ascended the private
stair, having first secured the door behind them,
and thus safely reached the apartment of the Marquis.
[The precarious state of the feudal nobles introduced
a great deal of espionage into their castles.
Sir Robert Carey mentions his having put on the cloak
of one of his own wardens to obtain a confession from
the mouth of Geordie Bourne, his prisoner, whom he
caused presently to be hanged in return for the frankness
of his communication. The fine old Border castle
of Naworth contains a private stair from the apartment
of the Lord William Howard, by which he could visit
the dungeon, as is alleged in the preceding chapter
to have been practised by the Marquis of Argyle.]
This was the entry then,
these stairs—but whither after?
Yet he that’s
sure to perish on the land
May quit the nicety
of card and compass,
And trust the open sea
without a pilot.—Tragedy of BENNOVALT.
“Look out for the private way through the chapel,
Ranald,” said the Captain, “while I give
a hasty regard to these matters.”
Thus speaking, he seized with one hand a bundle of
Argyle’s most private papers, and with the other
a purse of gold, both of which lay in a drawer of
a rich cabinet, which stood invitingly open. Neither
did he neglect to possess himself of a sword and pistols,
with powder-flask and balls, which hung in the apartment.
“Intelligence and booty,” said the veteran,
as he pouched the spoils, “each honourable cavalier
should look to, the one on his general’s behalf,
and the other on his own. This sword is an Andrew
Ferrara, and the pistols better than mine own.
But a fair exchange is no robbery. Soldados are
not to be endangered, and endangered gratuitously,
my Lord of Argyle.—But soft, soft, Ranald;
wise Man of the Mist, whither art thou bound?”
