"The outward and visible shape thereof," I answered, blushing. The little attorney laughed grimly. "'Fore God," he said, "forgive me, madam, but the thought of you as..." "Master Dunner," said I imperiously, "I am a tall woman as women go"--and I fervently thanked God for the first time in my heart for that fact, heretofore something of a grief to me, since your small women were the fashion then and thereafter--"and I doubt not I will make a braw man enough." "But your face, madam ... your hair ... your voice?" "I will cut my hair." "Would you sacrifice...?" "Peace, man! What is the loss of a few locks, that will grow again, beside my father's head. I will darken my face a bit--indeed, had it been summer instead of spring I should have been brown enough to pass muster--I will wear a wig, and my voice," it was a deep contralto, "will serve. You must get me a suit of clothes, boots, coat, and ... the other things; a sword, let it be a good one; pistols ... and, behold! I am transformed." "And suppose that I fall in with this mad plan of yours, may I ask what further do you intend to assay?" "Which way rides the messenger?" "Madam, he comes through Berwick and the road along the shore." "Will he go to Dalkeith?" "I think not. Rather by way of Dunbar and Prestonpans." "When do you expect him?" "He should be here to-morrow." "Good!" said I decisively. "'Tis yet early morning and there is time. Where will he lie to-night?" "I should think perhaps at Cockenzie. There is an inn there, The Black Douglas, of much repute for travellers, and 'tis an easy journey thence to Edinburgh. He was to stop a night at Berwick, another at Dunbar." He had the route pat enough, to be sure! "Think you that your information is to be depended upon?" "Madam, I believe so." "I will meet him, then, at Cockenzie. What say you is the name of this famous hostelry?" "The Black Douglas. But what are your plans then?" "To act as circumstances may dictate." "My dear lady," said the old man, coming nearer to me, "forgive my presumption. I have served your race long and well. You have no one left to advise you but me, humble though I am. I must ask to know more of your plans before I consent to aid you." "And I cannot tell you just exactly what I hope to do." "But in a general way?" "In some way or other I shall take from him his despatch-bag, abstract therefrom the warrant for my father. You shall describe it to me so I may identify it easily." "But..." "Ask me no more!" I cried. "I am resolved upon it. If you will not help met I shall go myself without your aid." "Misfortune may befall you." "What of that? If I am to lose my father, I care not what becomes of me." "But others care." "Nay, for no others do I care." "Madam," he said gravely, "I do think that a bit unkind."