Adventure stories; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
But I had other matters on my hand more pressing. Here I was in this
old, black city, which was for all the world like a rabbit-warren, not
only by the number of its indwellers, but the complication of its
passages and holes. It was, indeed, a place where no stranger had a
chance to find a friend, let be another stranger. Suppose him even to
hit on the right close, people dwelt so thronged in these tall houses,
he might very well seek a day before he chanced on the right door. The
ordinary course was to hire a lad they called a _caddie_, who was like
a guide or pilot, led you where you had occasion, and (your errands
being done) brought you again where you were lodging. But these
caddies, being always employed in the same sort of services, and having
it for obligation to be well informed of every house and person in the
city, had grown to form a brotherhood of spies; and I knew from tales
of Mr. Campbell’s how they communicated one with another, what a rage
of curiosity they conceived as to their employer’s business, and how
they were like eyes and fingers to the police. It would be a piece of
little wisdom, the way I was now placed, to take such a ferret to my
tails. I had three visits to make, all immediately needful: to my
kinsman Mr. Balfour of Pilrig, to Stewart the Writer that was Appin’s
agent, and to William Grant Esquire of Prestongrange, Lord Advocate of
Scotland. Mr. Balfour’s was a non-committal visit; and besides (Pilrig
being in the country) I made bold to find the way to it myself, with
the help of my two legs and a Scots tongue. But the rest were in a
different case. Not only was the visit to Appin’s agent, in the midst
of the cry about the Appin murder, dangerous in itself, but it was
highly inconsistent with the other. I was like to have a bad enough
time of it with my Lord Advocate Grant, the best of ways; but to go to
him hot-foot from Appin’s agent, was little likely to mend my own
affairs, and might prove the mere ruin of friend Alan’s. The whole
thing, besides, gave me a look of running with the hare and hunting
with the hounds that was little to my fancy. I determined, therefore,
to be done at once with Mr. Stewart and the whole Jacobitical side of
my business, and to profit for that purpose by the guidance of the
porter at my side. But it chanced I had scarce given him the address,
when there came a sprinkle of rain—nothing to hurt, only for my new
clothes—and we took shelter under a pend at the head of a close or
alley.
Being strange to what I saw, I stepped a little farther in. The narrow
paved way descended swiftly. Prodigious tall houses sprang upon each
side and bulged out, one storey beyond another, as they rose. At the
top only a ribbon of sky showed in. By what I could spy in the windows,
and by the respectable persons that passed out and in, I saw the houses
to be very well occupied; and the whole appearance of the place
interested me like a tale.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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