At each corner of the house was a tower or turret, and both at the south-east and north-west corner of the great court was a broad stair, leading to the rooms above. Several smaller stairs opened also into the court, and one especially, in the south-west corner, led direct to a large chamber at the western end of the gallery, called the "gallery chamber," to which was attached a cabinet, named, the earl's study. The large dining-hall and a smaller one were in the more ancient part of the building to the east, and the lodge of the porter was by the side of the great iron gate in front. This long description is not unnecessary, as the reader will find hereafter; but it may be necessary now to proceed with the narrative, begging the reader, however, to bear in mind the particulars which have been mentioned. Towards the afternoon of the 14th of March, 1600, a man was standing with his back towards the great gates of Gowrie Place, which were partly open. The court behind him was vacant, and there were not many people in the streets, for the labours of the day were not over in the industrious town, and nobody was to be seen but a man slowly crossing the South-street, or a girl wending her way along that which led in an opposite direction. The man who thus stood gazing up and down the street was a short, somewhat stout man, with a ruddy complexion, and a light brown beard and hair. He was by no means ill-looking, and yet there was a certain degree of shrewd cunning in the expression of his face, especially about the small black twinkling eyes, which did not prepossess a beholder in his favour. If one might judge by the half-open mouth and narrow jaw and chin, there was also in his character that species of weakness by no means incompatible with cunning. He was habited in a good brown suit of broadcloth, and a short black cloak, with no sword by his side, but a small dagger in his girdle, and might well have been taken for one of the substantial citizens of the town, had it not been for a sort of cringing air for which the worthy burgesses of St. Johnstone were never famous. From time to time, he turned and looked back into the court, as if he expected somebody to appear therein, and once he muttered, "De'il's in the wife! she's long ere she comes to take the keys." But a minute or two after, he took a step forward with a joyous air, as a man on foot entered the South-street, and nodded and beckoned with a smile. The man advanced with a quick step towards him, with a "Good day, Mr. Henderson." "Ah, Wattie!" said the man, who had been standing at the door of the great house, "what has brought you to Perth, and how are you and all your people, and good Sir George Ramsay, your master?"