From London Traquair sent only a note of doubtful and, at best, of insignificant meaning. Nothing whatever was settled or arranged. Then came Sir Hector, chief of the Macleans, to Scotland, where he was arrested. Now, Murray reflected that the epistle sent by Macnaughten ‘contained rather a wish than an advice, and might not be sufficient to prevent the Prince’s coming.’ Murray therefore sent, as a final warning, that set of papers which Traquair had not forwarded, entrusting it to Young Glengarry, at the end of May 1745. But Glengarry did not succeed in seeing Charles, who was thus left without warning not to come. Perhaps no warning would have stopped him; at all events he received none, and the die was cast. The Prince embarked on June 22. Murray’s whole book is one of self-justification. He may clear himself of having suggested the unaided enterprise to Charles. But, partly through the frivolity of Traquair, partly through the zeal of Murray, Charles was left without decisive admonition. He saw his party distracted: for a year and a half France had treated him ‘scandalously’ (as even the patient James averred), and he determined to force the hands both of France and the Jacobites. He pawned the Sobieski rubies—‘the Prince would wear them with a very sore heart on this side of the water’—he put his life to the hazard. If ever an attempt was to be made at all, Charles did well. England was empty of troops. A success or two, the Prince reckoned, must unite the distracted party on the one hand, and tempt or compel France to action on the other. His motto was _de l’audace_! If all men had been Lochiels, if the Duke of Hamilton, Macleod, Traquair, Lovat, Beaufort, Barrymore, Orrery, and the rest, had honour and truth, if France had such a thing as a policy, and could seize an opportunity, Charles would have won the Crown. But many men are not Lochiels, and, if France had a policy, it was not to restore the Stuarts, but to use them as a mere diversion. By the end of May Macnaughten returned, with news that Charles would be in Scotland by July. This caused Murray much chagrin, but he at once warned Perth, Lochiel, and Macleod. To the Duke of Hamilton he gave the Prince’s commission, ‘which he accepted with great cheerfulness.’ Murray then went to Lochiel, who remarked that every man of honour was bound to rise, and who quite trusted Lovat and Macleod. He leaned on broken reeds. Lovat temporised, Macleod turned his coat. Here Murray’s MS. breaks off, and he continues the history of the Rising ‘from Moidart to Derby.’