On the Sabbath evening, Ailie Kilgour again journeyed to Leith, and found Captain Barclay at home. She also found him sympathetic, and willing to assist, although quite conscious of the risk he incurred in aiding and abetting the escape of Government prisoners. There was one thing in his favour, however, that he was first to convey a cargo from Leith to Hamburg, the Queensferry commission being set aside, so that his passage would be direct from one port to the other. The harbour and other officials in the employment of the Government were strictly enjoined to rigorously inspect every outward bound vessel, in quest of fugitives, but Captain Barclay did not despair of being able to steal a march upon them in some way or other. He was a bold man, and loved a spice of adventure by sea or land, so Ailie Kilgour knew the matter was safe in his hands. She was to carry another message to the prisoners next day warning them to try and make good their escape the following night, as Captain Barclay expected to be ready to sail at daybreak on Tuesday morning, and unless they were at hand, could not possibly delay voyaging on their account. Late on the Sabbath evening, Ailie Kilgour and her father were sitting by the kitchen fire, discussing the probability of the prisoners’ escape, when they heard a great scuffling on the stair, and a low knocking at the door. Both started to their feet in alarm, and Ailie, recovering herself first, at once went and undid the bolts. What was her unutterable amazement to behold upon the threshold David Gray and Adam Hepburn! "Are you pursued?" she asked, in a breathless whisper, and at the same time holding the door wide open. "Not here; they have lost the scent, and are following us out the Lanark road," they responded. "Except God had veritably helped us this night, by sending down a thick mist when we leaped the wall, we had been both dead men," added David Gray, reverently; then suddenly, in the painful intensity of his feelings, he bent his head on his hands and burst into tears. Looking upon his emaciated frame, guessing the weakness which encompassed him, they marvelled not at his lack of self-control. The old man now came forward, and being assured that they were indeed there in the body, and not pursued, he bade them, with tears of joy, welcome to his house. The night was spent in earnest discussion, as to the next step to be taken on the morrow. Adam Hepburn expressed his readiness to go aboard, since it mattered not what became of him, but David Gray shook his head. "The Almighty, who covered us this night with the wings of His mist, must have some other work for me here," he said. "My soul does not bid me leave Scotland, and my heart cleaves to mine own kindred, upon whose faces I have not looked for many weary days. Therefore I will travel westward as opportunity offers, knowing that except of my Lord’s will the enemy shall not again lay hands on me."