"Brawly said, Rob, but what do ye ken o' this Muckle John? However, that can keep. I'd wager ye'd turn white did ye ken who Muckle John really is. But when you left Cameron you had a paper, Rob. Supposing that paper fell into our hands, Rob, or those of the Duke, what would happen, think ye? There would be no gold for your Prince, and from the information in the letter--supposing there should be any, which I am assured there is--there would be such a clearing of Jacobites, including the Pretender, as would end their cause for ever. That is, I repeat, supposing such a paper fell into the hands of the Duke. But there are those, Rob, who are Scotch after all, and no verra partial to such measures. There are mony, Rob, who do nane so badly oot of your Jacobite friends, and it's poor shooting where there's no game," and he smiled very knowingly, baring his teeth like a fox. Rob was puzzled by the note of suggestion in his speech. Had Strange the map or not? If not, had Muckle John taken it? If Strange had it what was to be gained by such words? Would he not take it to the Duke at once? He glanced quickly at the man facing him. In his eyes he read avarice, cruelty, and cunning. "If I hand you the paper," said Rob, "what do you propose to do? Would you give it to the Duke?" Strange checked a smile. "That depends," said he, "for between ourselves, where the eagle feeds there's poor pickings for the other birds. The truth is, Rob, there are some things you could tell me, and in return I'd do a deal more for you, for I am no an ungenerous man, and it's a dreary prospect, the gibbet." "It is all that," rejoined Rob, "but I cannot promise until I hear what you want to know." "That's mair reasonable, Rob--I knew ye were not the foolish ninny that they took ye for. Now listen, Rob; if you will disclose the hiding-place of Lovat and Archibald Cameron, and help us to lay Muckle John by the heels--in return I will see that you are free this very night, and mair, I will no forget ye when the treasure is come to light o' day." Rob turned sick at the words, but to learn more he simulated interest and nodded his head doubtfully. "But the Prince," said he. "In return for Lovat I will spare the Prince." "You?" "Who else, for if you consent none but I will ever see the document and its particulars." "And you will keep the gold?" Strange winked at that. "We two, Rob," said he with a smile. Then Rob, knowing all and realizing that Muckle John must have the dispatch, rose to his feet. "Whether I have been a scapegoat or not," he said, "I have only myself to blame; and let me tell you at once, Captain Strange or Macaulay, or whatever your dirty name may be, that nothing can save me from the hangman's noose; neither you with all your promises nor anything else, for I have not the paper you want," and he waited for the storm to burst. But the smile never died from the other's lips.