"Weel I know that, Rob," said he, "for I have it safe here," and he drew the package, still sealed, from his coat pocket. With a cry of rage Rob rushed at him, but the chains about his legs tripped him up, and Strange, stepping aside with a snarl, took him by the shoulder and flung him violently to the other end of the room. "Down!" he cried, "or I will pistol you." In a grim silence he thrust the package back into his pocket. "Ye see, I hold the cards," he said in a malignant voice. "And now is it to be a dislocated neck and your dead body the prey of corbies--or the salvation of your Prince, a share in the gold, and the taking of Lovat, which is inevitable in any case, and that of Cameron, which is only a question of time? Neither will suffer the extreme penalty, for Lovat is an old man who has sat at home, and Cameron is a doctor and was no at Culloden at all. As for Muckle John, I will tell ye why he made such a lot o' ye." "No, no!" cried Rob. "Whisht! Dinna take on so. Once a blind fool and never again, surely. But did ye think Muckle John risked his life just for love o' ye, Rob? Heaven preserve us--he was after..." "I know," said Rob, "but say no more. I'll tell the Duke you have the paper and throw myself on his mercy." Strange uttered a shrill cackle of laughter. "Tell the Duke, Rob! Oh, that's fine hearing. Mercy! It's little mercy ye'll get frae him. No, no! I'll hand it him myself, thank ye. Perhaps ye thought I was like your Muckle John, and playing for my ain hand. You're uncommon green, Rob, but Jerry Strange is no taken so doucely. Jerry is honest as the day, Rob--so come along and see me hand it into the Duke's royal fingers. It'll mak' gran' hearing, Rob, and there'll be sair confusion amongst the rebels now," and flinging open the door he drew his prisoner with him into the passage. Into a lofty room they went--the chains clanking about Rob's legs very dismally. A short, red-faced, stout young man of about twenty-five was sitting at a table reading dispatches. He was dressed in a red coat, with stars upon his breast and much gold cord. He wore a white peruke, and had a choleric, somewhat peevish countenance and a hard blue eye. There was nothing romantic or attractive in his commonplace features or sturdy, clumsy figure. His countenance displayed neither humour nor kindliness, and certainly not beauty--but only determination, courage, and common sense in abundance. It would have been difficult, indeed, to have laid hands on a young man so different in every way from his rival Charles Edward. It almost seemed that Justice had given him victory to compensate him for the odium of his personality. "Vell, Strange," said he, speaking with a thick German accent, "what is it?"