“Pretty well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie,” drawled out poor Owen, “but sore afflicted in spirit.”

Mr. Jarvie was another correspondent of my father’s whom Owen had had no great belief in, largely because of his great opinion of himself.  He now showed himself kindly and sensible, and asked Owen to let him see some papers he mentioned.  While examining them, he observed my mysterious guide make a slight movement, and said, “I say, look to the door, Stanchells; shut it, and keep watch on the outside.”

Mr. Jarvie soon showed himself master of what he had been considering, and saying he could not see how Mr. Owen could arrange his affairs if he were kept lying there, undertook to be his surety and to have him free by breakfast time.  He then took the light from the servant-maid’s hand, and advanced to my guide, who awaited his scrutiny with great calmness, seated on the table.  “Eh! oh! ah!” exclaimed the Bailie.  “My conscience! it’s impossible! and yet, no!  Conscience, it canna be.  Ye robber! ye cateran! born devil that ye are—­can this be you?”

“E’en as ye see, Bailie,” said he.

“Ye are a dauring villain, Rob,” answered the Bailie; “and ye will be hanged.  But bluid’s thicker than water.  Whar’s the gude thousand pounds Scots than I lent ye, man, and when am I to see it again?”

“As to when you’ll see it—­why, just ’when the King enjoys his ain again,’ as the auld sang says.”

“Worst of a’, Robin,” retorted the Bailie.  “I mean ye disloyal traitor—­worst of a’!  Ye had better stick to your auld trade o’ theft-boot and blackmail than ruining nations.  And wha the deevil’s this?” he continued, turning to me.

Owen explained that I was young Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, the only child of the head of the house, and the Bailie, Nicol Jarvie, having undertaken Owen’s release, took me home to sleep at his house.

I was astonished that Mr. Campbell should appear to Mr. Jarvie as the head of a freebooting Highland clan, and dismayed to think that Diana’s fate could be involved in that of desperadoes of this man’s description.

The packet which Diana Vernon had given me I had opened in the presence of the Highlander, for the ten days had elapsed, and a sealed letter had dropped out.  This had at once been claimed by Mr. Campbell, or Rob MacGregor, as Mr. Jarvie called him, and the address showed that it had gone to its rightful owner.

Before we parted, MacGregor bade me visit him in the Highlands, and I kept this appointment in company with the Bailie.  Strange to say, in the Highlands I met Diana Vernon, escorted by a single horseman, and from her received papers which had been in Rashleigh’s possession.  There was fighting in the Highlands, and the Bailie and I were both more than once in peril of our lives.

IV.—­Rob Roy to the Rescue

No sooner had we returned from our dangerous expedition than I sought out Owen.  He was not alone—­my father was with him.