“Did you both go into the cottage?” asked the bailie.

“No,” said Jack, “Steenie ran away down to the town to tell the doctor.  I went into Mary’s mysel’.  But Mary was away at Kirkwall, ye ken.  I saw that some person had been there, however; for the peats were still hot, and there was some roasted potatoes on the table, forbye a cloth that had blood on it.”

“And you waited about there until Dr. Linklater came?”

“Yes, Mr. Duke.”

“Now do you recognize this as the gun you found?” Mr. Duke asked, touching my fowling piece.

“Ay, that’s just it,” replied Jack.

Bailie Thomson then asked:  “Have you ever seen the gun before, Paterson?”

“No,” said Jack.

“What! have you never seen Ericson with it?”

“Never,” said Paterson, “though they tell me it is Halcro’s gun.”

“Are you sure that Ericson had not the gun with him when he knocked you up on Friday night?” persisted Mr. Thomson.

“Yes, quite sure,” said Jack.

“And where did Ericson go to after he left you?” questioned Mr. Thomson.

“I dinna ken, Mr. Thomson.  He said he was to gang back to Lyndardy.  But ye’d better ask himsel’, had ye not?”

And Paterson looked round to where I sat.

Mr. Thomson seemed to have no further questions to ask, and Bailie Duke said: 

“Very well, Jack, that will do now.  You may both go.”

And Jack Paterson went away, followed by Barrie.

“Now, doctor, would you just let us hear what you have to say, please?” said Mr. Duke, turning to Dr. Linklater.

The doctor kept his seat, and said: 

“Mr. Drever came to me early on Friday morning and told me that Colin Lothian had been shot dead over by Mary Firth’s cottage, and I went out.  I met the man Barrio on the way, and he turned back with me, conducting me to the spot.  I found Lothian quite dead.  He had been dead quite two hours, I should say.  There was a gunshot wound in his back under the left shoulder.  I got Paterson and Barrie to take off a door in Mary Firth’s room, and we carried the body upon it down to my house.  I made an examination of the body, and extracted several swan shot from the left lung.”

Dr. Linklater then passed a piece of paper containing the shot to Bailie Duke, saying:  “I suppose you need me no longer, bailie?”

“No, doctor, that’s all,” said Mr. Duke.  “Just tell Macfarlane to send David Flett in, will you?”

Flett came in and took his place before the magistrates, and gave information as to the time of my leaving the Falcon on Friday night.

Mr. Thomson, questioning him, asked: 

“Do you know of any motive that the lad Ericson might have in committing this crime?  Was there any enmity between him and Lothian?”

“Certainly not.  How could ye think so, Mr. Thomson?” said my skipper.  “Why, Colin and Halcro were most friendly.  It seems to me ridiculous that anyone should ever suspect such a thing o’ the lad!”