Agnes of Kingoldrum (Stroke told her) did not know Miss Ailie, but she was commanded to pay special attention to the gossip of the town regarding this new move of the enemy.  By next Saturday the plot had thickened.  Previous letters might have reddened Miss Ailie’s eyes for an hour or two, but they gladdened her as a whole.  Now she sat crying all evening with this one on her lap; she gave up her daily walk to the Berlin wool shop, with all its romantic possibilities; at the clatter of the tea-things she would start apprehensively; she had let a red shawl lie for two days in the blue-and-white room.

Stroke never blanched.  He called his faithful remnant around him, and told them the story of Bell the Cat, with its application in the records of his race.  Did they take his meaning?  This Miss Ailie must be watched closely.  In short, once more, in Scottish history, someone must bell the cat.  Who would volunteer?

Corp of Corp and Sir Joseph stepped forward as one man.

“Thou couldst not look like Gavinia,” the prince said, shaking his head.

“Wha wants him to look like Gavinia?” cried an indignant voice.

“Peace, Agnes!” said Stroke.

“Agnes, why bletherest thou?” said Sir Joseph.

“If onybody’s to watch Miss Ailie,” insisted the obstinate woman, “surely it should be me!”

“Ha!” Stroke sprang to his feet, for something in her voice, or the outline of her figure, or perhaps it was her profile, had given him an idea.  “A torch!” he cried eagerly and with its aid he scanned her face until his own shone triumphant.

“He kens a wy, methinks!” exclaimed one of his men.

Sir Joseph was right.  It had been among the prince’s exploits to make his way into Thrums in disguise, and mix with the people as one of themselves, and on several of these occasions he had seen Miss Ailie’s attendant.  Agnes’s resemblance to her now struck him for the first time.  It should be Agnes of Kingoldrum’s honorable though dangerous part to take this Gavinia’s place.

But how to obtain possession of Gavinia’s person?  Agnes made several suggestions, but was told to hold her prating peace.  It could only be done in one way.  They must kidnap her.  Sir Joseph was ordered to be ready to accompany his liege on this perilous enterprise in ten minutes.  “And mind,” said Stroke, gravely, “we carry our lives in our hands.”

“In our hands!” gasped Sir Joseph, greatly puzzled, but he dared ask no more, and when the two set forth (leaving Agnes of Kingoldrum looking very uncomfortable), he was surprised to see that Stroke was carrying nothing.  Sir Joseph carried in his hand his red hanky, mysteriously knotted.

“Where is yours?” he whispered.

“What meanest thou?”

Sir Joseph replied, “Oh, nothing,” and thought it best to slip his handkerchief into his trouser-pocket, but the affair bothered him for long afterwards.