The church bell began, rang on, and ceased. The sound of the psalms came, softly mellowed, and sweetly harmonized, across the churchyard through the gray Sabbath air, and he found himself, for the first time, a stray sheep from the fold. The service must have been half through before a lackey, to whom Mrs Courthope had committed the matter when she went to church, brought him the message that the marquis would see him. “Well, MacPhail, what do you want with me?” said his lordship as he entered. “It’s my duty to acquant yer lordship wi’ certain proceedin’s ’at took place last nicht,” answered Malcolm. “Go on,” said the marquis. Thereupon Malcolm began at the beginning, and told of the men he had watched, and how, in the fancy of following them, he had found himself in the garret, and what he saw and did there. “Did you recognize either of the women?” asked Lord Lossie. “Ane o’ them, my lord,” answered Malcolm. “It was Mistress Catanach, the howdie.” “What sort of a woman is she?” “Some fowk canna bide her, my lord. I ken no ill to lay till her chairge, but I winna lippen till her. My gran’father--an’ he’s blin’, ye ken--jist trimles whan she comes near him.” The marquis smiled. “What do you suppose she was about?” he asked. “I ken nae mair than the bonnet I flang in her face, my lord; but it could hardly be guid she was efter. At ony rate, seein’ yer lordship pat me in a mainner in chairge, I bude to haud her oot o’ a closed room--an’ her gaein’ creepin’ aboot yer lordship’s hoose like a worm.” “Quite right. Will you pull the bell there for me?” He told the man to send Mrs Courthope; but he said she had not yet come home from church. “Could you take me to the room, MacPhail?” asked his lordship. “I’ll try, my lord,” answered Malcolm. As far as the proper quarter of the attics, he went straight as a pigeon; in that labyrinth he had to retrace his steps once or twice, but at length he stopped, and said confidently-- “This is the door, my lord.” “Are you sure?” “As sure ’s deith, my lord.” The marquis tried the door and found it immovable. “You say she had the key?” “No, my lord: I said she had keys, but whether she had _the_ key, I doobt if she kent hersel’. It may ha’ been ane o’ the bundle yet to try.” “You’re a sharp fellow,” said the marquis. “I wish I had such a servant about me.” “I wad mak a some rouch ane, I doobt,” returned Malcolm, laughing. His lordship was of another mind, but pursued the subject no farther. “I have a vague recollection,” he said, “of some room in the house having an old story or legend connected with it. I must find out. I daresay Mrs Courthope knows. Meantime you hold your tongue. We may get some amusement out of this.” “I wull, my lord, like a deid man an’ beeryt.” “You can--can you?” “I can, my lord.” “You’re a rare one!” said the marquis. Malcolm thought he was making game of him as heretofore, and held his peace.