“Well, and I’m pleased to see you’re cautious too,” said the Writer.  “But I think ye take a risk to lay so considerable a sum at my discretion.”

He said this with a plain sneer.

“I’ll have to run the hazard,” I replied.  “O, and there’s another service I would ask, and that’s to direct me to a lodging, for I have no roof to my head.  But it must be a lodging I may seem to have hit upon by accident, for it would never do if the Lord Advocate were to get any jealousy of our acquaintance.”

“Ye may set your weary spirit at rest,” said he.  “I will never name your name, sir; and it’s my belief the Advocate is still so much to be sympathised with that he doesnae ken of your existence.”

I saw I had got to the wrong side of the man.

“There’s a braw day coming for him, then,” said I, “for he’ll have to learn of it on the deaf side of his head no later than to-morrow, when I call on him.”

“When ye call on him!” repeated Mr. Stewart.  “Am I daft, or are you?  What takes ye near the Advocate?”

“O, just to give myself up,” said I.

“Mr. Balfour,” he cried, “are ye making a mock of me?”

“No, sir,” said I, “though I think you have allowed yourself some such freedom with myself.  But I give you to understand once and for all that I am in no jesting spirit.”

“Nor yet me,” says Stewart.  “And I give you to understand (if that’s to be the word) that I like the looks of your behaviour less and less.  You come here to me with all sorts of propositions, which will put me in a train of very doubtful acts and bring me among very undesirable persons this many a day to come.  And then you tell me you’re going straight out of my office to make your peace with the Advocate!  Alan’s button here or Alan’s button there, the four quarters of Alan wouldnae bribe me further in.”

“I would take it with a little more temper,” said I, “and perhaps we can avoid what you object to.  I can see no way for it but to give myself up, but perhaps you can see another; and if you could, I could never deny but what I would be rather relieved.  For I think my traffic with his lordship is little likely to agree with my health.  There’s just the one thing clear, that I have to give my evidence; for I hope it’ll save Alan’s character (what’s left of it), and James’s neck, which is the more immediate.”

He was silent for a breathing-space, and then, “My man,” said he, “you’ll never be allowed to give such evidence.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” said I; “I’m stiff-necked when I like.”

“Ye muckle ass!” cried Stewart, “it’s James they want; James has got to hang—­Alan too, if they could catch him—­but James whatever!  Go near the Advocate with any such business, and you’ll see! he’ll find a way to muzzle ye.”

“I think better of the Advocate than that,” said I.

“The Advocate be damned!” cries he.  “It’s the Campbells, man!  You’ll have the whole clanjamfry of them on your back; and so will the Advocate too, poor body!  It’s extraordinar ye cannot see where ye stand!  If there’s no fair way to stop your gab, there’s a foul one gaping.  They can put ye in the dock, do ye no see that?” he cried, and stabbed me with one finger in the leg.