He still skimmed the paper, and all the while his spirits seemed to mend.

“And to whom am I indebted for this?” he asked presently.  “Other counsels must have been discussed, I think.  Who was it proposed this private method?  Was it Miller?”

“My lord, it was myself,” said I.  “These gentlemen have shown me no such consideration, as that I should deny myself any credit I can fairly claim, or spare them any responsibility they should properly bear.  And the mere truth is, that they were all in favour of a process which should have remarkable consequences in the Parliament House, and prove for them (in one of their own expressions) a dripping roast.  Before I intervened, I think they were on the point of sharing out the different law appointments.  Our friend Mr. Symon was to be taken in upon some composition.”

Prestongrange smiled.  “These are our friends!” said he.  “And what were your reasons for dissenting, Mr. David?”

I told them without concealment, expressing, however, with more force and volume those which regarded Prestongrange himself.

“You do me no more than justice,” said he.  “I have fought as hard in your interest as you have fought against mine.  And how came you here to-day?” he asked.  “As the case drew out, I began to grow uneasy that I had clipped the period so fine, and I was even expecting you to-morrow.  But to-day—­I never dreamed of it.”

I was not, of course, going to betray Andie.

“I suspect there is some very weary cattle by the road,” said I.

“If I had known you were such a mosstrooper you should have tasted longer of the Bass,” says he.

“Speaking of which, my lord, I return your letter.”  And I gave him the enclosure in the counterfeit hand.

“There was the cover also with the seal,” said he.

“I have it not,” said I.  “It bore naught but the address, and could not compromise a cat.  The second enclosure I have, and with your permission, I desire to keep it.”

I thought he winced a little, but he said nothing to the point.  “To-morrow,” he resumed, “our business here is to be finished, and I proceed by Glasgow.  I would be very glad to have you of my party, Mr. David.”

“My lord....”  I began.

“I do not deny it will be of service to me,” he interrupted.  “I desire even that, when we shall come to Edinburgh you should alight at my house.  You have very warm friends in the Miss Grants, who will be overjoyed to have you to themselves.  If you think I have been of use to you, you can thus easily repay me, and so far from losing, may reap some advantage by the way.  It is not every strange young man who is presented in society by the King’s Advocate.”