The cover was without
address but sealed with a Government seal. It enclosed two notes.
"Mr. Balfour can now see for himself it is too late to meddle. His
conduct will be observed and his discretion rewarded." So ran the
first, which seemed to be laboriously writ with the left hand.
There was certainly nothing in these expressions to compromise the
writer, even if that person could be found; the seal, which
formidably served instead of signature, was affixed to a separate
sheet on which there was no scratch of writing; and I had to
confess that (so far) my adversaries knew what they were doing, and
to digest as well as I was able the threat that peeped under the
promise.
But the second enclosure was by far the more surprising. It was in
a lady's hand of writ. "MAISTER DAUVIT BALFOUR IS INFORMED A
FRIEND WAS SPEIRING FOR HIM AND HER EYES WERE OF THE GREY," it ran-
-and seemed so extraordinary a piece to come to my hands at such a
moment and under cover of a Government seal, that I stood stupid.
Catriona's grey eyes shone in my remembrance. I thought, with a
bound of pleasure, she must be the friend.
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