His correspondence with Mrs. Glenarm was invariably written with the left hand—­the writing thus produced defying detection, in all cases, as bearing no resemblance of character whatever to writing produced by persons who habitually use the other hand.  A no less far-sighted cunning distinguished his proceedings in answering the advertisements which the lawyers duly inserted in the newspaper.  He appointed hours at which he was employed on business-errands for the inn, and places which lay on the way to those errands, for his meetings with Mrs. Glenarm’s representatives:  a pass-word being determined on, as usual in such cases, by exchanging which the persons concerned could discover each other.  However carefully the lawyers might set the snare—­whether they had their necessary “witness” disguised as an artist sketching in the neighborhood, or as an old woman selling fruit, or what not—­the wary eye of Bishopriggs detected it.  He left the pass-word unspoken; he went his way on his errand; he was followed on suspicion; and he was discovered to be only “a respectable person,” charged with a message by the landlord of the Harp of Scotland Inn!

To a man intrenched behind such precautions as these, the chance of being detected might well be reckoned among the last of all the chances that could possibly happen.

Discovery was, nevertheless, advancing on Bishopriggs from a quarter which had not been included in his calculations.  Anne Silvester was in Perth; forewarned by the newspaper (as Sir Patrick had guessed) that the letters offered to Mrs. Glenarm were the letters between Geoffrey and herself, which she had lost at Craig Fernie, and bent on clearing up the suspicion which pointed to Bishopriggs as the person who was trying to turn the correspondence to pecuniary account.  The inquiries made for him, at Anne’s request, as soon as she arrived in the town, openly described his name, and his former position as headwaiter at Craig Fernie—­and thu s led easily to the discovery of him, in his publicly avowed character of Thomas Pennyquick’s devoted friend.  Toward evening, on the day after she reached Perth, the news came to Anne that Bishopriggs was in service at the inn known as the Harp of Scotland.  The landlord of the hotel at which she was staying inquired whether he should send a message for her.  She answered, “No, I will take my message myself.  All I want is a person to show me the way to the inn.”

Secluded in the solitude of the head-waiter’s pantry, Bishopriggs sat peacefully melting the sugar in his whisky-punch.

It was the hour of the evening at which a period of tranquillity generally occurred before what was called “the night-business” of the house began.  Bishopriggs was accustomed to drink and meditate daily in this interval of repose.  He tasted the punch, and smiled contentedly as he set down his glass.  The prospect before him looked fairly enough.  He had outwitted the lawyers in the preliminary negotiations thus far.  All that was needful now was to wait till the terror of a public scandal (sustained by occasional letters from her “Friend in the Dark”) had its due effect on Mrs. Glenarm, and hurried her into paying the purchase-money for the correspondence with her own hand.  “Let it breed in the brain,” he thought, “and the siller will soon come out o’ the purse.”