The face of Muckle John was, for once, a medley of expressions, with that of irritation uppermost. "I hope so," he replied shortly, "but I'm no perfect, ye ken." "Why do ye want Rob out so much? He is no kin o' yours?" He uttered an exclamation of impatience. "What matter," he cried irritably. "Should I save his neck, is not that enough? Maybe I have an affection for the boy. Maybe it is because we are fellow-sufferers in the Cause." "And maybe," broke in Miss Macpherson, "it is none of these good reasons at all." To which he answered nothing, but seemed on the point of bursting into a violent rage, and then he fell back on silence, as though he were bitterly offended. "Mistress Macpherson," he said stiffly, "one thing I can swear to, and that is that I mean Rob no ill; and this I promise you: that if you do as I ask, I will answer for his ultimate escape and safety," and, whipping out his bared dirk, he prepared to take the oath. "Whisht," said Miss Macpherson, "dinna behave like a play-actor; I'll do what you want, and gladly, for his mither's sake, puir woman. But ye said there is an outer courtyard. How will Rob manage to get over that?" "He will not need to do so," said Muckle John, and rose to his feet. Footsteps suddenly sounded on the street without. A loud knock came at the door--then another, and the noise of a horse's impatient hoofs thumped and clattered on the cobbles. Like a vast shadow, Muckle John passed silently inside the other room, while Miss Macpherson drew back the bolts. In the street was a trooper, holding a package in his hand. "For Mistress Macpherson," said he, "from Captain Strange, now stationed at Fort Augustus," and, mounting again, he walked slowly up the street. Inside, she tore open the paper. It requested her to travel to Fort Augustus at dawn. Muckle John read what it was at a glance. Then, gathering up his coat, he bowed, and, meeting her eyes for a moment, passed into the darkness of the street and was gone. CHAPTER XII IN THE HANDS OF THE DUKE To Rob the world had suddenly fallen very hopeless and forlorn. By no conspiracy of Fate could matters have worked out more to his undoing. The precious paper entrusted to him by Dr. Cameron, full of he knew not what vital news and directions regarding the hidden treasure, had been stolen, but worse still by an unknown hand. It is comforting in a dreary way to know who has played the thief. But Rob had not even that poor satisfaction. He had been taken asleep, and between that time and the journey to Fort Augustus the paper had mysteriously vanished. A horrible thought presented itself. Was it taken from him before he was bound by the soldiers? Muckle John had disappeared without a word or an effort to save him. He had half-heartedly hoped for a rescue on the road, but no sign of living soul had met his eyes.