‘Will I help ye?’ cried Peebles, springing to his feet with the vivacity of a young man. ‘Deil hae me, but I’ll know the truth in four-and-twenty hours. But, eh, lass, if ye’re mistaken? If it’s not sae? I’d just gang clean daft in the disappointment. But it must--it must be true, eh, lass? To see the faces o’ they two Conseltines! To see the bonny lad, that they denounced as a beggar and a bastard, established wi’ title and estates! To see Lady Dulcie Lady Kilpatrick and Desmond’s wife! Oh! if it’s no’ true there’ll be a braw end o’ one good Scot, for I’ll just gang neck and crop into Limbo for sheer vexation. Dawm it! that I should say so--it _must_ be true! It shall be true, if I squeeze it oot o’ yon scoundrel Blake wi’ my ain old hands, and his worthless life along wi’ it! But I maun awa’, lass--I maun awa’. There’s a hantle o’ things to be done at the Castle, and the lazy loons o’ servants are at sixes and sevens if they haven’t me about their lugs. I’ll see yon drunken ne’er-do-weel this day, and I’ll hae news for ye the morn’s morn. Keep a good heart, woman. The king shall enjoy his ain again. Eh, I’m just daft!’ Indeed, anybody who had witnessed the scene might have thought so,--he was so topful of excitement. ‘God bless ye, Mr. Peebles,’ said Moya. ‘Ye’re a true friend to me and the boy.’ ‘Ay, am I,’ returned Peebles, ‘and that ye shall see ere long. Gang hame, lass, and pray for Desmond.’ ‘Pray for him!’ cried Moya. ‘Has there been a day this eighteen years I’ve not prayed for him? No, nor a waking hour. God go with ye, sir, but----’ She checked him with an outstretched hand as he turned to go, and laid her finger on her lips as a signal for absolute silence. ‘Don’t fear me,’ said the old man; ‘I’m nae chatterbox, wi’ business like this afoot.’ CHAPTER IX.--IN WHICH MISCHIEF IS BREWING. It was late in the forenoon of the same day when Mr. Blake rose from his bed in the tenement to which he gave the sonorous and impressive title of Blake’s Hall--a tumbledown hut of two stories, which long years of neglect had reduced to a condition of almost complete ruin. The ground-floor was occupied by Blake himself; the upper portion by an ancient peasant woman, who acted as his cook, housemaid, caterer, and general factotum. There was not a whole pane of glass or an unbroken article of furniture in the whole building, and the little plot of ground in which it stood was a wilderness of stones and weeds. Biddy was made aware of her employer’s awakening in the fashion familiar to her for years past--by his roaring at the full stretch of his lungs for a draught of whisky. That draught despatched, he arose, and proceeded with shaking limbs to shave and dress. He was still occupied with his toilet when the voice of the elder Conseltine was heard in the outer room.