“Why, very well, Mr. David,” he replied, “I am pleased to see you are all that Rankeillor represented. And for what you say of political complications, you do me no more than justice. It is my study to be beyond suspicion, and indeed outside the field of it. The question is,” says he, “how, if I am to know nothing of the matter, I can very well assist you?” “Why sir,” said I, “I propose you should write to his lordship, that I am a young man of reasonable good family and of good means: both of which I believe to be the case.” “I have Rankeillor’s word for it,” said Mr. Balfour, “and I count that a warran-dice against all deadly.” “To which you might add (if you will take my word for so much) that I am a good churchman, loyal to King George, and so brought up,” I went on. “None of which will do you any harm,” said Mr. Balfour. “Then you might go on to say that I sought his lordship on a matter of great moment, connected with His Majesty’s service and the administration of justice,” I suggested. “As I am not to hear the matter,” says the laird, “I will not take upon myself to qualify its weight. ‘Great moment’ therefore falls, and ‘moment’ along with it. For the rest I might express myself much as you propose.” “And then, sir,” said I, and rubbed my neck a little with my thumb, “then I would be very desirous if you could slip in a word that might perhaps tell for my protection.” “Protection?” says he, “for your protection! Here is a phrase that somewhat dampens me. If the matter be so dangerous, I own I would be a little loath to move in it blindfold.” “I believe I could indicate in two words where the thing sticks,” said I. “Perhaps that would be the best,” said he. “Well, it’s the Appin murder,” said I. He held up both his hands. “Sirs! sirs!” cried he. I thought by the expression of his face and voice that I had lost my helper. “Let me explain. . .” I began. “I thank you kindly, I will hear no more of it,” says he. “I decline _in toto_ to hear more of it. For your name’s sake and Rankeillor’s, and perhaps a little for your own, I will do what I can to help you; but I will hear no more upon the facts. And it is my first clear duty to warn you. These are deep waters, Mr. David, and you are a young man. Be cautious and think twice.” “It is to be supposed I will have thought oftener than that, Mr. Balfour,” said I, “and I will direct your attention again to Rankeillor’s letter, where (I hope and believe) he has registered his approval of that which I design.” “Well, well,” said he; and then again, “Well, well! I will do what I can for you.” There with he took a pen and paper, sat a while in thought, and began to write with much consideration. “I understand that Rankeillor approved of what you have in mind?” he asked presently. “After some discussion, sir, he bade me to go forward in God’s name,” said I.