To rob
a child of so little more than nothing was certainly a paltry
enterprise for two grown men; but my own tale, as it was to be
represented in a court by Simon Fraser, appeared a fair second in
every possible point of view of sordidness and cowardice.
The voices of two of Prestongrange's liveried men upon his doorstep
recalled me to myself.
"Ha'e," said the one, "this billet as fast as ye can link to the
captain."
"Is that for the cateran back again?" asked the other.
"It would seem sae," returned the first. "Him and Simon are
seeking him."
"I think Prestongrange is gane gyte," says the second. "He'll have
James More in bed with him next."
"Weel, it's neither your affair nor mine's," said the first.
And they parted, the one upon his errand, and the other back into
the house.
This looked as ill as possible. I was scarce gone and they were
sending already for James More, to whom I thought Mr. Simon must
have pointed when he spoke of men in prison and ready to redeem
their lives by all extremities. My scalp curdled among my hair,
and the next moment the blood leaped in me to remember Catriona.
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