"Maister, quotha!" she screamed. "Wha d’ye speak o’, young sir? If it’s the auld laird ye mean, he’s lang syne wi’ his Makker, and the young yin has no been here thae fower years. He was a tenty bit lad, was Maister Gilbert, but he gaed aff to the wars i’ the abroad and ne’er thinks o’ returnin’. Wae’s me for the puir, hapless cheil." And she crooned on to herself in the garrulity of old age. "Tell me the truth," said I, "and have done with your lies. It is well known that your master came here in the last two days with two men and a lady, and abode here for the night. Tell me instantly if he is still here or whither has he gone." She looked at me with a twinkle of shrewdness and then shook her head once more. "Na, na, I’m no leein’. I’m ower neer my accoont wi’ the Lord to burden my soul wi’ lees. When you tae are faun i’ the hinner end o’ life, ye’ll no think it worth your while to mak up leesome stories. I tell ye the young maister hasna been here for years, though it’s blithe I wad be to see him. If ye winna believe my word, ye can e’en gang your ways." Now I was in something of a quandary. The woman looked to be speaking the truth, and it was possible that my cousin could have left the city on one side and pushed straight on to his house of Eaglesham or even to the remoter western coast. Yet the way was a long one, and I saw not how he could have refrained from halting at Glasgow in the even. He had no cause to fear my following him there more than another place. For that I would come post-haste to the Westlands at the first word he must have well known, and so he could have no reason in covering his tracks from me. He was over-well known a figure in his own countryside to make secrecy possible; his aim must be to outrace me in speed, not to outwit me with cunning. "Let me gang, young sir," the old hag was groaning. "I’ve the rheumaticks i’ my banes and I’m sair hadden doon wi’ the chills, and I’ll get my death if I stand here longer." "I will trust you then," said I, "but since I am a kinsman of your master’s and have ridden far on a bootless errand, I will even come in and refresh myself ere I return." "Na, na," she said, a new look, one of anxiety and cunning coming into her face, "ye maun na dae that. It was the last word my maister bade me ere he gaed awa’. ’Elspeth,’ says he, ’see ye let nane intil the hoose till I come back.’" "Tut, tut, I am his own cousin. I will enter if I please," and calling my servant, I made to force an admittance. Then suddenly, ere I knew, the great door was slammed in my face, and I could hear the sound of a key turning and a bar being dropped. Here was a pretty to-do. Without doubt there was that in the house which the crone desired to keep from my notice. I sprang to the door and thundered on it like a madman, wrestling with the lock, and calling for the woman to open it. But all in vain, and after a few seconds’ bootless endeavour, I turned ruefully to my servant.