Such was the performance for which Squire Meldrum had arrived in time. And, indeed, he saw how an apparently blind beggar was brought forward on to a platform, and how, after certain ceremonies had been gone through, he seemed to recover the use of his eyes, and came down rejoicing amongst the people, who gave him money. But the Squire was not to be so easily convinced. On the contrary, he determined "to doe his best to find out the lurking deceit whereby the people were miserablie deceived". With this object in view, when the beggar, in whose way he contrived to put himself, asked him for a dole, he gave him not only an exceptionally large sum of money, but sympathetic words as well. "You are a verie remarkable man," he said, "on whom such a miracle has been wrought, I will have you to goe with me to be my servant." The beggar readily agreed, and mounting on horseback behind the Squire's attendant, rode off with his new master to Edinburgh. When the party reached Meldrum's lodgings, matters took a new turn. Locking the door upon himself and his new servant, drawing his sword, and assuming "a fierce countenance", the Squire said to the man: "Thou villane and deceiver of the people of God, either tell me the treuth of these things that I am to aske of you now presentlie, or els I will take upon me, with my sword, to cutt off thy head; for I am ane magistrate appointed by God to doe justice; and I am assured that all the preists and freirs, all the saints, nor the Pope himselfe, cannot work a miracle such as they pretend to do, namely, to cure a blind man. Therefor thou and they are but deceivers of the people; and either tell me the veritie, or els with this sword I will presentlie--as ane magistrate in this case--put ye to death." The poor wretch, thus taken unawares and terrified out of all thought of resistance, consented to do and to say whatever might be required of him. And the remarkable story which he told is reported in what professes to be his own language:--