Thus arrived at length, with a clear road before him, at the opening of his case, Malcolm told in few words what had fallen out. As he went on, the marquis grew interested, and by the time he had finished, had got himself into dressing-gown and slippers. “Wadna ye tak yer pistol?” suggested Malcolm slyly. “What! to meet a woman?” said his lordship. “Ow na! but wha kens there michtna be anither murderer aboot? There micht be twa in ae nicht.” Impertinent as was Malcolm’s humour, his master did not take it amiss: he lighted a candle, told him to lead the way, and took his revenge by making joke after joke upon him as he crawled along. With the upper regions of his house the marquis was as little acquainted, as with those of his nature, and required a guide. Arrived at length at the wizard’s chamber, they listened at the door for a moment, but heard nothing; neither was there any light visible at its lines of junction. Malcolm turned the key, and the marquis stood close behind, ready to enter. But the moment the door was unlocked, it was pulled open violently, and Mrs Catanach, looking too high to see Malcolm who was on his knees, aimed a good blow at the face she did see, in the hope, no doubt, of thus making her escape. But it fell short, being countered by Malcolm’s head in the softest part of her person, with the result of a clear entrance. The marquis burst out laughing, and stepped into the room with a rough joke. Malcolm remained in the doorway. “My lord,” said Mrs Catanach, gathering herself together, and rising little the worse, save in temper, for the treatment he had commented upon, “I have a word for your lordship’s own ear.” “Your right to be there does stand in need of explanation,” said the marquis. She walked up to him with confidence. “You shall have an explanation, my lord,” she said, “such as shall be my full quittance for intrusion even at this untimely hour of the night.” “Say on then,” returned his lordship. “Send that boy away then, my lord.” “I prefer having him stay,” said the marquis. “Not a word shall cross my lips till he’s gone,” persisted Mrs Catanach. “I know him too well! Awa’ wi’ ye, ye deil’s buckie!” she continued, turning to Malcolm; “I ken mair aboot ye nor ye ken aboot yersel’, an’ deil hae ’t I ken o’ guid to you or yours! But I s’ gar ye lauch o’ the vrang side o’ _your_ mou’ yet, my man.” Malcolm, who had seated himself on the threshold, only laughed and looked reference to his master. “Your lordship was never in the way of being frightened at a woman,” said Mrs Catanach, with an ugly expression of insinuation. The marquis shrugged his shoulders. “That depends,” he said. Then turning to Malcolm,--“Go along,” he added; “only keep within call. I may want you.” “Nane o’ yer hearkenin’ at the keye-hole, though, or I s’ lug-mark ye, ye----!” said Mrs Catanach, finishing the sentence none the more mildly that she did it only in her heart.