"Come, come! sit close to me!" exclaimed the viscount, with fierce vehemence, drawing her towards him. "You forget yourself! You are drunk, Malcolm!" cried Faustina, resisting his efforts. At that moment there came a rap at the door; it was a soft, low tap, yet it startled the viscount like a thunderclap. He dropped the hand of Faustina and demanded angrily: "Who the fiend is there?" There was no answer, but the rap was gently repeated. "Speak, then, can't you? Who the demon are you?" he cried. "Why don't you tell them to come in?" said Faustina, in a displeased tone. "Come in, then, set fire to you, whoever you are!" exclaimed Lord Vincent. The door was opened and old Cuthbert softly entered. "What the fiend do you want, sir?" haughtily demanded the viscount; for he had lately taken a great dislike to old Cuthbert, as well as to every respectable servant in the house, whose humble integrity was a tacit rebuke to his own dishonor; and least of all would he endure the intrusion of one of them upon his interviews with Faustina. "What brings you here, I say?" he repeated, "An'it please your lairdship, there are twa poleecemen downstairs, wi' a posse at their tails," answered the old man, bowing humbly. "What is their business here?" "I dinna ken, me laird." "Something about that stupid murder, I suppose." Faustina started; she was probably thinking of Katie. "I dinna think it is onything connected wi' Ailsie's death, me laird." "What then? What mare's nest have they found now, the stupid Dogberries?" "I canna tak' upon mesel' to say, me laird. But they are asking for yer lairdship and Mistress Dugald." "Me!" This exclamation came from Faustina, who turned deadly pale, and stared wildly at the speaker. Indeed her eyes and her face could be compared to nothing else but two great black set in a marble mask. "Me!" "Aye, mem, e'en just for yer ain sel', and na ither, forbye it be his lairdship's sel'," replied the old man, bowing with outward humility and secret satisfaction, for Cuthbert cordially disapproved and disliked Faustina. "Horror! I see how it is! The dead body of the black woman has been cast up by the sea, as I knew it would be, and we shall be guillotined--no!--hanged, hanged by the neck till we are dead!" she cried, wringing and twisting her hands in deadly terror. "I wish to Heaven you may be, for an incorrigible fool!" muttered the viscount, in irrepressible anger; for, you see, his passion for this woman was not of a nature to preclude the possibility of his falling into a furious passion with her upon occasions like this. "What madness has seized you now?" he continued. "There is no danger; you have no cause to be alarmed. They have probably come about the murder of Ailsie Dunbar, Satan burn them! Cuthbert, what are you lingering here for? Go, see what it is!" The old man bowed lowly, and left the room.