"But I could never have considered what has befallen this puir lad, Mr. Bindloose," said Mrs. Dods, "through the malice of wicked men.--He lived, then, at the Cleikum, as I tell you, for mair than a fortnight, as quiet as a lamb on a lea-rig--a decenter lad never came within my door--ate and drank eneugh for the gude of the house, and nae mair than was for his ain gude, whether of body or soul--cleared his bills ilka Saturday at e'en, as regularly as Saturday came round." "An admirable customer, no doubt, Mrs. Dods," said the lawyer. "Never was the like of him for that matter," answered the honest dame. "But to see the malice of men!--some of thae landloupers and gill-flirts down at the filthy puddle yonder, that they ca' the Waal, had heard of this puir lad, and the bits of pictures that he made fashion of drawing, and they maun cuitle him awa doun to the bottle, where mony a bonny story they had clecked, Mr. Bindloose, baith of Mr. Tirl and of mysell." "A Commissary Court business," said the writer, going off again upon a false scent. "I shall trim their jackets for them, Mrs. Dods, if you can but bring tight evidence of the facts--I will soon bring them to fine and palinode--I will make them repent meddling with your good name." "My gude name! What the sorrow is the matter wi' my name, Mr. Bindloose?" said the irritable client. "I think ye hae been at the wee cappie this morning, for as early as it is--My gude name!--if ony body touched my gude name, I would neither fash counsel nor commissary--I wad be down amang them, like a jer-falcon amang a wheen wild-geese, and the best amang them that dared to say ony thing of Meg Dods by what was honest and civil, I wad sune see if her cockernonnie was made of her ain hair or other folk's. _My_ gude name, indeed!" "Weel, weel, Mrs. Dods, I was mista'en, that's a'," said the writer, "I was mista'en; and I dare to say you would haud your ain wi' your neighbours as weel as ony woman in the land--But let us hear now what the grief is, in one word." "In one word, then, Clerk Bindloose, it is little short of--murder," said Meg, in a low tone, as if the very utterance of the word startled her. "Murder! murder, Mrs. Dods?--it cannot be--there is not a word of it in the Sheriff-office--the Procurator-fiscal kens nothing of it--there could not be murder in the country, and me not hear of it--for God's sake, take heed what you say, woman, and dinna get yourself into trouble." "Mr. Bindloose, I can but speak according to my lights," said Mrs. Dods; "you are in a sense a judge in Israel, at least you are one of the scribes having authority--and I tell you, with a wae and bitter heart, that this puir callant of mine that was lodging in my house has been murdered or kidnapped awa amang thae banditti folk down at the New Waal; and I'll have the law put in force against them, if it should cost me a hundred pounds."