"If the king knows that I have harboured a rebel lord!" thought Roland, breathlessly, "my commission would be worth about as much as my head. By the faith of Vipont! 'tis in the name of the king, and countersigned by the cardinal too!" "_To our trusty friend, Sir Roland Vipont, of that Ilk._ "JAMES REX. "Right trusty friend, we greet you well and heartillie. "It is our royal will and pleasure, that with one hundred arquebussiers of our guard, under Louis Leslie of Balquhan, and two brass culverins, with their powder, shot, and cannoneers conform, you do march to-morrow at daybreak unto Douglasdale, for the capture, dead or alive, of Archibald Seton, sometime Earl of Archkirk, our rebel and traitor, who is rumoured to be resett in that district; where, without fail, you will give all to fire and sword, be it castle or be it cottage, wherein the said lord findeth shelter; for which you have this our warrant. Hoping that you will do your devoire truly and valiantly, according to the custom observit of auld, we commit you to the protection of God. "DAVID, "_Cardinal, Sancti Andrea, Commendator de Arbroath, Chancellor of Scotland._* "From our Palace of Holyrood, the 20th day of May, 1537." * It is thus the Cardinal signed his name to more than one document in the author's possession. "There, now, was not rumour right for once?" said Forrester. "Still the same enmity to my unfortunate friend!" said Roland, whose face became pale, and whose teeth were clenched with anger. "So we are to search for Lord Ashkirk among the Douglases," laughed Leslie; "a right perilous expedition. Take thy tall valet with thee, Vipont. 'Fore Heaven! that fellow, with his prodigious sword, were worth a troop of lances on such a service." Roland glanced keenly at the speaker. Had he penetrated the earl's disguise? but there was nothing to be read but pure honesty and candour in Leslie's handsome features. He suspected not that the dictators of the order he had just received knew well that the earl was much nearer than Douglasdale. "Ha! do you not hear something?" said Roland, rising up and listening. "The cry of a woman, as I live!" replied Leslie; "shrill and deathly, too, as of one in sore distress; and there, now, is the patter of pistolettes!" "Look out, Lintstock--thy one eye is worth a dozen--at the back window--what seest thou?" "Torches moving about on St. John's Hill, the gleam of steel, and I hear the cries of a woman; eh, sirs, but she scraighs dreichly and eerilie!" was the reply of Lintstock, as he snatched up a partisan.