"Ay," replied the ruffian, as a broad grin expanded his mastiff mouth, and his great teeth appeared like a row of fangs through his matted beard; "ay, the same gude knife with which I slew Maclellan, the Knight of Bombie, at the north door of St. Giles's kirk. By one backhanded stroke I dashed it into his heart, and he fell with his rosary in his uplifted hand, the name of God on his lips, and the half-signed cross on his brow, yet they saved him not." There was a pause, for Birrel, who had commenced, in a tone of ruffian irony, ended in a dismal quaver, and grew pale. "Wretch and fool!" cried the lord advocate, "why remind me of that?" He gave his dependent a terrible glance. "I crave pardon, Sir Adam; but when I bethink me that this Sir Thomas of Bombie had the lairds of Achlane, Glenshannoch, and Bourg, with nine other knights of his surname to avenge him, I surely ran some risk." "The Lords of Drumlanrig and Lochinvar were said, by common rumour, to have slain him, and so let it be; he was a foe of the house of Otterburn," hissed the advocate through his teeth, "and of the faction to which that house adhered; a foe to me in particular, and as such must Vipont, the accursed Vipont, die." Nichol uttered a sound between a growl and a laugh. "Are Dobbie the doomster, and Sanders the torturer below? I warrant they will be snoring, like gorged hounds, by the kitchen ingle." "No, they are birling their cans in the buttery." "Then see to this affair; but dost think we can rely on them?" "Like myself, Sir Adam, they and their forbears have been leal men and true to the house of Redhall, and wherefore would they fail it now? We are the servants of the law, and what matters it whether we string this soldier of the king in a tow at the cross, or pink him in the dark? 'tis death, any way;" and here the fellow uttered a ferocious laugh again. "For your own sakes and mine be secret, sincere, and sure." The pricker touched his knife, bowed, and raising the arras, dropped it again, and shaking his matted head, paused irresolutely. "What is it now?" asked Redhall, taking the purse from his girdle. "Money?" "No, no, Sir Adam, I never served ye for siller, but as my bounden duty; so I crave leave to remind ye that the place of forester up at Kinleith and Bonallie is vacant, and my sister's son, Tom Trotter, a deadly shot with bow and hackbut----" "Enough; thy sister's son shall have the place of forester; and, for thee, methinks that the master's cloth-of-gold and diamond baldrick might serve for that, and to procure absolution to boot for the three of ye." "We care not for that, Sir Adam," replied the pricker, "for we are among those who have seen the new light." "And believe not in the delegated power of the priesthood; eh, is it so?" Birrel nodded. "Then why carriest thou that great rosary. I vow it looks like a fetter on thy wrist." "As a blind."