In the chambers of the Scottish Estates, in Parliament Square, the privy council assembled, attended by the city magistrates, for a tumult was clearly prophesied. “The idea!” puffed my lord chancellor, getting into his gown. “Such a clamor about the prison! Would they intimidate us with their uproar. Mr. Magistrate, go sweep them through the gutters to their kennels!” “My lord, I hae no broom big enow.” The clerk presented a petition, signed by many of the better consciences of the town, praying a reprieve for the condemned pirates. The council turned the matter about with grave, genteel speech. “What a file of names! They seem to urge that Reynolds should have had opportunity of exculpation. Well, we discharged Reynolds, did we not?” “In view of the verdict, my lords, I am inclined to think--well, that he might have been exculpated.” “And I.” “And I.” “The indictment was good, my Lord Chancellor, of course--did we not so hold. But the fact of death--ordinarily, of course, it should be shown. Ordinarily, I say. The other rule is a little dangerous, is it not? The _corpus delicti_--it is a sound doctrine--usually.” “Oh, ordinarily--certainly. Macer, close the window--the noise from the prison yard is getting intolerable.” “My lords, my lords, they’re under our windows! Oh, my lords, such a press, and ilk has a stick or a stane ’n’s fist. “Mr. Magistrate, you will see to the protection of her majesty’s council.” “Aye, my Lord Chancellor--or die wi’ ye.” “Tush! tush! Such blathering! Die? Who said die?” “Heavens! Who’s thumping on that door?” “My lords, the people cry that you are reprieving the pirates!” “I pray that no torch be set to the town. Shall I step forth and promise the people, on the honor of a magistrate, there shall be no reprieve?” “Reprieve, Mr. Magistrate! Who spoke of reprieve?” A gust of wind from the open door blew the petition fluttering to the floor. None stooped to pick it up. The council adjourned. The chancellor got as far as the old Tron church when some pudding-face in the crowd shouted the pirates were reprieved. A wave of people beat against the chancellor’s coach, they smashed the glass, crashed in the panels, and might have licked up the blood of the worthy nobleman himself but for the onrushing bayonets of the city guard, and, what was more effective,--a sudden, cyclonic roar from the throng at the prison gate, announcing that Green, Madder and Simpson were departing in the death wagon for the doomful sands of Leith.