“And have no cause to be,” says he, encouragingly.  “Nor yet (if you are careful) to fear the consequences.”

“My lord,” said I, “speaking under your correction, I am not very easy to be frightened.”

“And I am sure I do not seek to frighten you,” says he.  “But to the interrogation; and let me warn you to volunteer nothing beyond the questions I shall ask you.  It may consist very immediately with your safety.  I have a great discretion, it is true, but there are bounds to it.”

“I shall try to follow your lordship’s advice,” said I.

He spread a sheet of paper on the table and wrote a heading.  “It appears you were present, by the way, in the wood of Lettermore at the moment of the fatal shot,” he began.  “Was this by accident?”

“By accident,” said I.

“How came you in speech with Colin Campbell?” he asked.

“I was inquiring my way of him to Aucharn,” I replied.

I observed he did not write this answer down.

“H’m, true,” said he, “I had forgotten that.  And do you know, Mr. Balfour, I would dwell, if I were you, as little as might be on your relations with these Stewarts?  It might be found to complicate our business.  I am not yet inclined to regard these matters as essential.”

“I had thought, my lord, that all points of fact were equally material in such a case,” said I.

“You forget we are now trying these Stewarts,” he replied, with great significance.  “If we should ever come to be trying you, it will be very different; and I shall press these very questions that I am now willing to glide upon.  But to resume:  I have it here in Mr. Mungo Campbell’s precognition that you ran immediately up the brae.  How came that?”

“Not immediately, my lord, and the cause was my seeing of the murderer.”

“You saw him, then?”

“As plain as I see your lordship, though not so near hand.”

“You know him?”

“I should know him again.”

“In your pursuit you were not so fortunate, then, as to overtake him?”

“I was not.”

“Was he alone?”

“He was alone.”

“There was no one else in that neighbourhood?”

“Alan Breck Stewart was not far off, in a piece of a wood.”

The Advocate laid his pen down.  “I think we are playing at cross purposes,” said he, “which you will find to prove a very ill amusement for yourself.”

“I content myself with following your lordship’s advice, and answering what I am asked,” said I.

“Be so wise as to bethink yourself in time,” said he.  “I use you with the most anxious tenderness, which you scarce seem to appreciate, and which (unless you be more careful) may prove to be in vain.”

“I do appreciate your tenderness, but conceive it to be mistaken,” I replied, with something of a falter, for I saw we were come to grips at last.  “I am here to lay before you certain information, by which I shall convince you Alan had no hand whatever in the killing of Glenure.”