‘Good idea,’ said Logan, as the old woman left the room.  ’What had I better do now?’

’Oh, send your telegrams—­the advertisements—­to the London papers.  They can go by the trap you ordered for me, that I am too ill to go in.  Then you will have to interview the detectives, take them into the laird’s chamber, and, if they start my theory about the secret entrance being under the fallen stones, let them work away at removing them.  If they don’t start it, put them up to it; anything to keep them employed and prevent them from asking questions in the villages.’

’But, Merton, I understand your leaving in disguise; still, why go first to Edinburgh?’

‘The trains from your station to town do not fit.  You can look.’  And Merton threw Bradshaw to Logan, who caught it neatly.

When he had satisfied himself, Logan said, ’The shops will be closed in Edinburgh, it will be after eight when you arrive.  How will you manage about getting into decent clothes?’

’I have my idea; but, as soon as you can get rid of the detectives, come back here; I want you to coach me in broad Scots words and pronunciation.  I shall concoct imaginary dialogues.  I say, this is great fun.’

’Dod, man, aw ‘m the lad that’ll lairn ye the pronoonciation,’ said Logan, and he was going.

‘Wait,’ said Merton, ’sign me a paper giving me leave to treat about the ransom.  And promise that, if I don’t reappear by the eleventh, you won’t negotiate at all.’

‘Not likely I will,’ said Logan.

Merton lay in bed inventing imaginary dialogues to be rendered into Scots as occasion served.  Presently Logan brought him a little book named Mansie Waugh.

‘That is our lingo here,’ he said; and Merton studied the work carefully, marking some phrases with a pencil.

In about an hour Logan reported that the detectives were at work in the secret passage.  The lesson in the Scots of the Lothians began, accompanied by sounds of muffled laughter.  Not for two or three centuries can the turret chamber at Kirkburn have heard so much merriment.

The afternoon passed in this course of instruction.  Merton was a fairly good mimic, and Logan felt at last that he could not readily be detected for an Englishman.  Six o’clock had scarcely struck when Mrs. Bower’s grandson was ushered into the bedroom.  The exchange of clothes took place, Merton dressing as the young Bower undressed.  The detectives, who had found nothing, were being entertained by Mrs. Bower at dinner.

‘I know how the trap in the secret passage is worked,’ said Merton, ’but you keep them hunting for it.’

Had the worthy detectives been within earshot the yells of laughter echoing in the turret as the men dressed must have suggested strange theories to their imaginations.

‘Larks!’ said Merton, as he blackened his face with coal dust.

Dismissing young Bower, who was told to wait in the hall, Merton made his final arrangements.  ’You will communicate with me under cover to Trevor,’ he said.  He took a curious mediaeval ring that he always wore from his ringer, and tied it to a piece of string, which he hung round his neck, tucking all under his shirt.  Then he arranged his thick comforter so as to hide the back of his head and neck (he had bitten his nails and blackened them with coal).