“Is that you, Angus?” asked Traquair in an ordinary tone of voice. “Can you hear what I say?” “Perfectly, ma lord. There’s a very cunnin’ trap ’tween th’ stable loft an’ this, that one would na hev foun’ in a hurry, but the thief left it open in his sudden flight.” The lips of the landlord turned white, but he remained motionless, panting like a trapped animal, for the giant form of Armstrong stood with his back against the door, the only exit. “Very well. Come down,” said Traquair quietly. When the sentinel returned, Traquair bade him get a rope and tie the innkeeper hand and foot, while the prisoner groveled for his life, his supplications meeting with no response. “Now take him outside, Angus, and if there is any attempt on his part to move, or if there is an alarm of rescue, run him through with your pike and retreat on us. As for you, you false knave, your life will depend on your lying quiet for the moment and on what you tell us hereafter.” “Am I ta be ta’en awa’, your merciful lordship?” sobbed the man, who, now that his life seemed in no immediate danger, turned his anxiety toward his property. “What’ll become o’ th’ inn, for there’s nane here to tak care o ’t?” “We’ll take care o’t, never fear,” replied Traquair grimly. The stalwart Angus dragged the man out, and the door was once more closed. “I think we may venture to seat ourselves again,” said Traquair, suiting the action to the word. “There’s nothing more to be done, and pursuit is hopeless.” All sat down with the exception of Armstrong, who remained standing with his back to the door, gazing somewhat scornfully on the conclave. “You will perhaps now agree with me, Henderson,” continued the Earl smoothly, “that we are in no position to set up our collective wisdom as an example to William Armstrong?” “I may at least say,” returned the minister sourly, “that nothing whatever is proved. It is all surmise, suspicion, conjecture. The man who went away may well have been some lout sleeping in the straw, and no spy at all.” “There is no conjecture about the fact that the landlord lied to us. There is no surmise in my belief that he thought his trap-door was securely closed, when he lied the second time, and that the secret of the trap-door was in possession of the man who escaped. This is proof enough for me, and I think it is equally convincing to the others. Have you anything further to urge against the selection of Mr. Armstrong as our messenger?” “Oh, very well, Traquair, have it your own way. I dare say he will do as well as another,” replied Henderson with the air of one making a great concession. “Then it’s settled!” proclaimed the Earl with a sigh of relief. But it was not.