Glossin paused--the sweat broke upon his brow with the agony of his feelings, while the hard-featured miscreant who sat opposite, coolly rolled his tobacco in his cheek, and squirted the juice into the fire-grate. "It would be ruin," said Glossin to himself, "absolute ruin, if the heir should reappear--and then what might be the consequence of conniving with these men?--yet there is so little time to take measures--Hark you, Hatteraick; I can't set you at liberty--but I can put you where you may set yourself at liberty--I always like to assist an old friend. I shall confine you in the old castle for tonight, and give these people double allowance of grog. Mac-Guffog will fall in the trap in which he caught you. The stanchions on the window of the strong room, as they call it, are wasted to pieces, and it is not above twelve feet from the level of the ground without, and the snow lies thick."
"But the darbies," said Hatteraick, looking upon his fetters.
"Hark ye," said Glossin, going to a tool-chest, and taking out a small file, "there's a friend for you, and you know the road to the sea by the stairs." Hatteraick shook his chains in ecstasy, as if he were already at liberty, and strove to extend his lettered hand towards his protector. Glossin laid his finger upon his lips with a cautious glance at the door, and then proceeded in his instructions. "When you escape, you had better go to the Kaim of Dernecleugh."
"The devil!--well, then, you may steal my skiff that lies on the beach there, and away. But you must remain snug at the Point of Warroch till I come to see you."
"The Point of Warroch?" said Hatteraick, his countenance again falling; "what, in the cave, I suppose?--I would rather it were anywhere else;--es spuckt da!--they say for certain that he walks--But, donner and blitzen! I never shunned him alive, and I won't shun him dead--Strafe mich helle! it shall never be said Dirk Hatteraick feared either dog or devil!--So I am to wait there till I see you?"
"Ay, ay," answered Glossin, "and now I must call in the men." He did so, accordingly.
"I can make nothing of Captain Janson, as he calls himself, Mac-Guffog, and it's now too late to bundle him off to the county jail. Is there not a strong room up yonder in the old castle?"
"Ay is there, sir; my uncle the constable ance kept a man there for three days in auld Ellangowan's time. But there was an unco dust about it--it was tried in the Inner House afore the Feifteen."