“And now, Ranald,” said Dalgetty, “strip thy upper garment—­thy plaid I mean, Ranald, and in it will I muffle the M’Callum More, and make of him, for the time, a Child of the Mist;—­Nay, I must bring it over your head, my lord, so as to secure us against your mistimed clamour.—­So, now he is sufficiently muffled;—­hold down your hands, or, by Heaven, I will stab you to the heart with your own dagger!—­nay, you shall be bound with nothing less than silk, as your quality deserves.—­So, now he is secure till some one comes to relieve him.  If he ordered us a late dinner, Ranald, he is like to be the sufferer;—­at what hour, my good Ranald, did the jailor usually appear?”

“Never till the sun was beneath the western wave,” said MacEagh.  “Then, my friend, we shall have three hours good,” said the cautious Captain.  “In the meantime, let us labour for your liberation.”

To examine Ranald’s chain was the next occupation.  It was undone by means of one of the keys which hung behind the private door, probably deposited there, that the Marquis might, if he pleased, dismiss a prisoner, or remove him elsewhere without the necessity of summoning the warden.  The outlaw stretched his benumbed arms, and bounded from the floor of the dungeon in all the ecstasy of recovered freedom.

“Take the livery-coat of that noble prisoner,” said Captain Dalgetty; “put it on, and follow close at my heels.”

The outlaw obeyed.  They ascended the private stair, having first secured the door behind them, and thus safely reached the apartment of the Marquis.

[The precarious state of the feudal nobles introduced a great deal of espionage into their castles.  Sir Robert Carey mentions his having put on the cloak of one of his own wardens to obtain a confession from the mouth of Geordie Bourne, his prisoner, whom he caused presently to be hanged in return for the frankness of his communication.  The fine old Border castle of Naworth contains a private stair from the apartment of the Lord William Howard, by which he could visit the dungeon, as is alleged in the preceding chapter to have been practised by the Marquis of Argyle.]

CHAPTER XIV.

     This was the entry then, these stairs—­but whither after? 
     Yet he that’s sure to perish on the land
     May quit the nicety of card and compass,
     And trust the open sea without a pilot.—­Tragedy of BENNOVALT.

“Look out for the private way through the chapel, Ranald,” said the Captain, “while I give a hasty regard to these matters.”

Thus speaking, he seized with one hand a bundle of Argyle’s most private papers, and with the other a purse of gold, both of which lay in a drawer of a rich cabinet, which stood invitingly open.  Neither did he neglect to possess himself of a sword and pistols, with powder-flask and balls, which hung in the apartment.  “Intelligence and booty,” said the veteran, as he pouched the spoils, “each honourable cavalier should look to, the one on his general’s behalf, and the other on his own.  This sword is an Andrew Ferrara, and the pistols better than mine own.  But a fair exchange is no robbery.  Soldados are not to be endangered, and endangered gratuitously, my Lord of Argyle.—­But soft, soft, Ranald; wise Man of the Mist, whither art thou bound?”