To lounge before the fire on that dreary night of cold rain and mist, a night fit only for Highland cattle and suchlike, had its compensations. The last few months had brought their burden of anxiety and fatigue. The eve of Culloden had been enough to try any man's nerve. Had he lost--had he been taken or killed--there is little question that the English Crown would have changed hands. Perhaps he had been over hard on the barbarous people who had rebelled, but he was frightened. Looking back on it now, he saw that he had lost his head for a time. And now the country was subdued. He could return and listen to the things that London was waiting to say. There would be flags and banquets and honours. England was at his feet. Labour accomplished successfully has, indeed, its consolations. He stirred the fire and listened to the crackle of the wood. It was a fine, brisk, homely noise on such a wretched night of driving rain and sleet. It was good to feel the rare glow of it on one's feet and knees. He wondered why it seemed so much better on a night of storm. He hunted in his mind for a reason. Suddenly he chuckled. He remembered the Young Pretender, sheltering for all he knew under a ledge of dripping rock, or in a byre for cattle. Bad weather cut two ways. It had its comforts for the victor--it lashed the fugitive most piteously. He laughed outright at the notion. Where was he now, that silly young man? Yet not so young--his own age in solemn truth. Then all the more credit to himself. Where was he now, but on some open moor like a curlew in the night or a stag watching the way he had run. His eyes shut and suddenly a snore rang through the firelit room. At the same moment a tall and heavily plaided figure passed noiselessly across the space that divided the door from the table and stood there for a moment as though undecided in his mind what course to take. In the doorway there hung a heavy curtain. Behind this there was another form. One could see that by the curve of it inside the room. On the table there lay a paper--a despatch apparently, and this the man behind the chair looked at idly with his thoughts upon the silent figure sunk in slumber. But as he read he frowned, and then, very softly he gathered up the paper and returned to the doorway where his companion appeared, and together they passed out of sight.