“Aweel,” said the landlord to himself, as he watched the chaise winding its way up the mountain-pass.  “Aweel, I waur e’en just confounded to see the dook here away without the doochess; and I just after reading in the Times how they were married o’ the day before yesterday, and gane for their wedding trip to Paris!  Aweel, I suppose, it will be this witness business as hae broughten him back.  But where’s the young doochess?  Ay, to be sure, he hae left her in her grand toon house in London.  He wad na be bringing her here at siccan a painfu’ time and occasion as the trial of her ain father’s murtherer.  Nae, indeed! that is nae likely,” concluded honest Donald Duncan, as he returned into his house.

Banff was but ten miles north-east of Lone.  But the mountain road was difficult; and now that the morning mist lay heavy on the landscape, it was necessary for our travelers to drive slowly and carefully to avoid precipitating themselves over some rocky steep, into some deep pool or stony chasm.

They were, thus, an hour in getting safely through the mountain-pass.

At the end of that time, they came out upon a good road, through a forest of firs, covering a hilly country.

Then the mist began to roll away before the bright beams of the advancing sun.

And another hour of fast driving brought them into the town of Banff.

The duke directed the driver to turn into the street where was situated the town-hall, where the court was being held.

The very looks of the street must have informed any stranger that some event of unusual interest was then transpiring.  The sidewalks were filled with pedestrians, whose steps were all bent in one direction—­toward the town hall.

As our travellers drew up before the front of the building, the duke alighted and beckoned to a bailiff to come and clear the way for his passage into the court-room.

The officer hurried to the duke, and using his official authority, soon made a narrow path through the dense crowd that choked up every avenue into the edifice.

So, elbowing, pushing and wedging his way, the bailiff led the duke into the court-room, which was even more closely packed than the ante-rooms.  Pressing through this solid mass of human beings, the bailiff led him to a seat directly in front of the bench of judges, and there left him.

The duke bowed to the Bench, sat down and looked around upon the strange and painful scene.

The famous Scotch judge, Baron Stairs, presided.  On his right and left sat Mr. Justice Kinloch and Mr. Justice Guthrie.

Quite a large number of lawyers, law officers, and writers to the seal were present.

Mr. James Stuart, Q.C., was the prosecutor on the part of the crown.  He was assisted by Messrs. Roy and McIntosh.

Mr. Keir and Mr. Gordon, two rising young barristers from Aberdeen, were counsel for the prisoner.