‘What luck!’ said Merton, adding, ’well, I can’t start by the 10.49.  I’m ill.  I’m in bed.  Order my breakfast in bed, send Mrs. Bower, and come up with her yourself.’

Merton rushed up the turnpike stair; in two minutes he was undressed, and between the sheets.  There he lay, reading Bradshaw, pages 670, 671.

Presently there was a knock at the door, and Logan entered, followed by
Mrs. Bower with the breakfast tray.

Merton addressed her at once.

‘Mrs. Bower, we know that we can trust you absolutely.’

‘To the death, sir—­me and mine.’

’Well, I am not ill, but people must think I am ill.  Is your grandson on the night shift or the day shift?’

‘Laird is on the day shift, sir.’

‘When does he leave his work?’

‘About six, sir.’

‘That is good.  As soon as he appears—­’

‘I’ll wait for him at the pit’s mouth, sir.’

‘Thank you.  You will take him to his house; he lives with your son?’

‘Yes, sir, with his father.’

’Make him change his working clothes—­but he need not wash his face much—­and bring him here.  Mr. Logan, I mean Lord Fastcastle, will want him.  Now, Mrs. Bower—­you see I trust you absolutely—­what he is wanted for is this.  I shall dress in your grandson’s clothes, I shall blacken my hands and face slightly, and I must get to Drem.  Have I time to reach the station by ten minutes past seven?’

‘By fast walking, sir.’

’Mr. Logan and your grandson—­your grandson in my clothes—­will walk later to your son’s house, as they find a chance, unobserved, say about eleven at night.  They will stay there for some time.  Then they will be joined by some of the police, who will accompany Mr. Logan home again.  Your grandson will go to his work as usual in the morning.  That is all.  You quite understand?  You have nothing to do but to bring your grandson here, dressed as I said, as soon as he leaves his work.  Oh, wait a moment!  Is your grandson a teetotaller?’

‘He’s like the other lads, sir.’

‘All the better.  Does he smoke?’

‘Yes, sir.’

’Then pray bring me a pipe of his and some of his tobacco.  And, ah yes, does he possess such a thing as an old greatcoat?’

‘His auld ane’s sair worn, sir.’

‘Never mind, he had better walk up in it.  He has a better one?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I think that is all,’ said Merton.  ’You understand, Mrs. Bower, that I am going away dressed as your grandson, while your grandson, dressed as myself, returns to his house to-night, and to work to-morrow.  But it is not to be known that I have gone away.  I am to be supposed ill in bed here for a day or two.  You will bring my meals into the room at the usual hours, and Logan—­of course you can trust Dr. Douglas?’

‘I do.’

’Then he had better be summoned to my sick bed here to-morrow.  I may be so ill that he will have to call twice.  That will keep up the belief that I am here.’