"I have her, I have her! She capsized the lamp, the little jade. Shut the door." Still keeping firm hold of her, as he thought, the captain relit the lamp with his other hand. It showed an extraordinary scene. The door was shut, and the sheriff was guarding it. Halliwell was clutching the cloth of the bailie's seat. There was no Egyptian. A moment passed before either man found his tongue. "Open the door. After her!" cried Halliwell. But the door would not open. The Egyptian had fled and locked it behind her. What the two men said to each other, it would not be fitting to tell. When Davidson, who had been gossiping at the corner of the town-house, released his captain and the sheriff, the gypsy had been gone for some minutes. "But she shan't escape us," Riach cried, and hastened out to assist in the pursuit. Halliwell was in such a furious temper that he called up Davidson and admonished him for neglect of duty. CHAPTER VIII. 3 A.M.--MONSTROUS AUDACITY OF THE WOMAN. Not till the stroke of three did Gavin turn homeward, with the legs of a ploughman, and eyes rebelling against over-work. Seeking to comfort his dejected people, whose courage lay spilt on the brae, he had been in as many houses as the policemen. The soldiers marching through the wynds came frequently upon him, and found it hard to believe that he was always the same one. They told afterwards that Thrums was remarkable for the ferocity of its women, and the number of its little ministers. The morning was nipping cold, and the streets were deserted, for the people had been ordered within doors. As he crossed the Roods, Gavin saw a gleam of red-coats. In the back wynd he heard a bugle blown. A stir in the Banker's close spoke of another seizure. At the top of the school wynd two policeman, of whom one was Wearyworld, stopped the minister with the flash of a lantern. "We dauredna let you pass, sir," the Tilliedrum man said, "without a good look at you. That's the orders." "I hereby swear," said Wearyworld, authoritatively, "that this is no the Egyptian. Signed, Peter Spens, policeman, called by the vulgar, Wearyworld. Mr. Dishart, you can pass, unless you'll bide a wee and gie us your crack." "You have not found the gypsy, then?" Gavin asked. "No," the other policeman said, "but we ken she's within cry o' this very spot, and escape she canna." "What mortal man can do," Wearyworld said, "we're doing: ay, and mair, but she's auld wecht, and may find bilbie in queer places. Mr. Dishart, my official opinion is that this Egyptian is fearsomely like my snuff-spoon. I've kent me drap that spoon on the fender, and be beat to find it in an hour. And yet, a' the time I was sure it was there. This is a gey mysterious world, and women's the uncanniest things in't. It's hardly mous to think how uncanny they are." "This one deserves to be punished," Gavin said, firmly; "she incited the people to riot."