“I am bidden meet the King at the Castle of Edinburgh,” said Douglas; “I will set out at once.”

“Nay, my lord,” said Crichton, “not this day, at least.  Stay and hunt the stag on the braes of Borthwick.  My huntsmen have marked down a swift and noble buck.  To-morrow to Edinburgh an you will!”

“I thank you, Sir William,” the Douglas answered, curtly enough; “but the command is peremptory.  I must ride to Edinburgh this very day.”

“I pray you remember that Edinburgh is a turbulent city and little inclined to love your great house.  Is it, think you, wise to go thither with so small a retinue?”

The Earl waved his hand carelessly.

“I am not afraid,” he said; “besides, what harm can befall when I lodge in the castle of the Lord Chancellor of Scotland?”

Crichton bowed very low.

“What harm, indeed?” he said; “I did but advise your lordship to bethink himself.  I am an old man, pray remember—­fast growing feeble and naturally inclined to overmuch caution.  But the blood flows hot through the veins of eighteen.”

Sholto, who knew nothing of these happenings, had just finished exercising his men on the smooth green in front of the Castle of Crichton, and had dismissed them, when a gaberlunzie or privileged beggar, a long lank rascal with a mat of tangled hair, and clad in a cast-off leathern suit which erstwhile some knight had worn under his mail, leaped suddenly from the shelter of a hedge.  Instinctively Sholto laid his hand on his dagger.

“Nay,” snuffled the fellow, “I come peaceably.  As you love your lord hasten to give him this letter.  And, above all, let not the Crichton see you.”

He placed a small square scrap of parchment in Sholto’s hand.  It was sealed in black wax with a serpent’s head, and from the condition of the outside had evidently been in places both greasy and grimy.  Sholto put it in his leathern pouch wherein he was used to keep the hone for sharpening his arrows, and bestowed a silver groat upon the beggar.

“Thy master’s life is surely worth more than a groat,” said the man.

“I warrant you have been well enough paid already,” said Sholto, “that is, if this be not a deceit.  But here is a shilling.  On your head be it, if you are playing with Sholto MacKim!”

So saying the captain of the guard strode within.  He had already acquired the carriage and consequence of a veteran old in the wars.

His master was still pacing up and down the courtyard, deep in meditation.  Sholto saluted the young Earl and asked permission to speak a word with him.

“Speak on, Sholto—­well do you know that at all times you may say what you will to me.”

“But this I desire to keep from prying eyes.  My lord, there is a letter in my wallet which was given me even now by a gaberlunzie man.  He declares that it concerns your life.  I pray you take out my hone stone as if to look at it, and with it the letter.”