Catriona, Robert Louis Stevenson [the gingerbread man read aloud txt] 📗

yourselves. But I will no longer fetch and carry, and get your contrary instructions, and be blamed by both. For if I were to tell you what I think of all your Hanover business it would make your head sing.”

But Sheriff Erskine had preserved his temper, and now intervened smoothly. “And in the meantime,” says he, “I think we should tell Mr. Balfour that his character for valour is quite established. He may sleep in peace. Until the date he was so good as to refer to it shall be put to the proof no more.”

His coolness brought the others to their prudence; and they made haste, with a somewhat distracted civility, to pack me from the house.

IX The Heather on Fire

When I left Prestongrange that afternoon I was for the first time angry. The Advocate had made a mock of me. He had pretended my testimony was to be received and myself respected; and in that very hour, not only was Symon practising against my life by the hands of the Highland soldier, but (as appeared from his own language) Prestongrange himself had some design in operation. I counted my enemies: Prestongrange with all the King’s authority behind him; and the Duke with the power of the West Highlands; and the Lovat interest by their side to help them with so great a force in the north, and the whole clan of old Jacobite spies and traffickers. And when I remembered James More, and the red head of Neil the son of Duncan, I thought there was perhaps a fourth in the confederacy, and what remained of Rob Roy’s old desperate sept of caterans would be banded against me with the others. One thing was requisite, some strong friend or wise adviser. The country must be full of such, both able and eager to support me, or Lovat and the Duke and Prestongrange had not been nosing for expedients; and it made me rage to think that I might brush against my champions in the street and be no wiser.

And just then (like an answer) a gentleman brushed against me going by, gave me a meaning look, and turned into a close. I knew him with the tail of my eye⁠—it was Stewart the Writer; and, blessing my good fortune, turned in to follow him. As soon as I had entered the close I saw him standing in the mouth of a stair, where he made me a signal and immediately vanished. Seven storeys up, there he was again in a house door, the which he locked behind us after we had entered. The house was quite dismantled, with not a stick of furniture; indeed, it was one of which Stewart had the letting in his hands.

“We’ll have to sit upon the floor,” said he; “but we’re safe here for the time being, and I’ve been wearying to see ye, Mr. Balfour.”

“How’s it with Alan?’ ” I asked.

“Brawly,” said he. “Andie picks him up at Gillane Sands tomorrow, Wednesday. He was keen to say goodbye to ye, but the way that things were going, I was feared the pair of ye was maybe best apart. And that brings me to the essential: how does your business speed?”

“Why,” said I, “I was told only this morning that my testimony was accepted, and I was to travel to Inverary with the Advocate, no less.”

“Hout awa!” cried Stewart. “I’ll never believe that.”

“I have maybe a suspicion of my own,” says I, “but I would like fine to hear your reasons.”

“Well, I tell ye fairly, I’m horn-mad,” cries Stewart. “If my one hand could pull their Government down I would pluck it like a rotten apple. I’m doer for Appin and for James of the Glens; and, of course, it’s my duty to defend my kinsman for his life. Hear how it goes with me, and I’ll leave the judgment of it to yourself. The first thing they have to do is to get rid of Alan. They cannae bring in James as art and part until they’ve brought in Alan first as principal; that’s sound law: they could never put the cart before the horse.”

“And how are they to bring in Alan till they can catch him?” says I.

“Ah, but there is a way to evite that arrestment,” said he. “Sound law, too. It would be a bonny thing if, by the escape of one ill-doer another was to go scatheless, and the remeid is to summon the principal and put him to outlawry for the non-compearance. Now there’s four places where a person can be summoned: at his dwelling-house; at a place where he has resided forty days; at the head burgh of the shire where he ordinarily resorts; or lastly (if there be ground to think him forth of Scotland), at the cross of Edinburgh, and the pier and shore of Leith, for sixty days. The purpose of which last provision is evident upon its face: being that outgoing ships may have time to carry news of the transaction, and the summonsing be something other than a form. Now take the case of Alan. He has no dwelling-house that ever I could hear of; I would be obliged if anyone would show me where he has lived forty days together since the ’45; there is no shire where he resorts whether ordinarily or extraordinarily; if he has a domicile at all, which I misdoubt, it must be with his regiment in France; and if he is not yet forth of Scotland (as we happen to know and they happen to guess) it must be evident to the most dull it’s what he’s aiming for. Where, then, and what way should he be summoned? I ask it at yourself, a layman.”

“You have given the very words,” said I. “Here at the cross, and at the pier and shore of Leith, for sixty days.”

“Ye’re a sounder Scots lawyer than Prestongrange, then!” cries the Writer. “He has had Alan summoned once; that