"The first man she met, I suppose. We a' kent that the horn was to be the signal except Wearywarld. He's police, so we kept it frae him." "That is all you saw of the woman?" "Ay, for I ran straucht to my garret, and there your men took me. Can I gae hame now, sheriff?" "No, you cannot. Describe the woman's appearance." "She had a heap o' rowan berries stuck in her hair, and, I think, she had on a green wrapper and a red shawl. She had a most extraordinary face. I canna exact describe it, for she would be lauchin' one second and syne solemn the next. I tell you her face changed as quick as you could turn the pages o' a book. Ay, here comes Wearywarld to speak up for me." Wearyworld entered cheerfully. "This is the local policeman," a Tilliedrum officer said; "we have been searching for him everywhere, and only found him now." "Where have you been?" asked the sheriff, wrathfully. "Whaur maist honest men is at this hour," replied Wearyworld; "in my bed." "How dared you ignore your duty at such a time?" "It's a long story," the policeman answered, pleasantly, in anticipation of a talk at last. "Answer me in a word." "In a word!" cried the policeman, quite crestfallen. "It canna be done. You'll need to cross-examine me, too. It's my lawful richt." "I'll take you to the Tilliedrum gaol for your share in this night's work if you do not speak to the purpose. Why did you not hasten to our assistance?" "As sure as death I never kent you was here. I was up the Roods on my rounds when I heard an awfu' din down in the square, and thinks I, there's rough characters about, and the place for honest folk is their bed. So to my bed I gaed, and I was in't when your men gripped me." "We must see into this before we leave. In the meantime you will act as a guide to my searchers. Stop! Do you know anything of this Egyptian?" "What Egyptian? Is't a lassie wi' rowans in her hair?" [Illustration: THE EGYPTIAN.] "The same. Have you seen her?" "That I have. There's nothing agin her, is there? Whatever it is, I'll uphaud she didna do't, for a simpler, franker-spoken crittur couldna be." "Never mind what I want her for. When did you see her?" "It would be about twal o'clock," began Wearyworld unctuously, "when I was in the Roods, ay, no lang afore I heard the disturbance in the square. I was standing in the middle o' the road, wondering how the door o' the windmill was swinging open, when she came up to me. "'A fine nicht for the time o' year,' I says to her, for nobody but the minister had spoken to me a' day. "'A very fine nicht,' says she, very frank, though she was breathing quick like as if she had been running. 'You'll be police?' says she. "'I am,' says I, 'and wha be you?' "'I'm just a puir gypsy lassie,' she says. "'And what's that in your hand?' says I. "'It's a horn I found in the wood,' says she, 'but it's rusty and winna blaw.' "I laughed at her ignorance, and says I, 'I warrant I could blaw it.' "'I dinna believe you,' says she.