As he passed out again he saw through an open door Lady Stair sitting idly with her hands in her lap; he did not speak to her nor turn his head: but descended to the court and rode away through Edinburgh to the open country, and there at a full gallop took the summer wind across his face. CHAPTER V A WOMAN’S VICTORY Twilight was gathering as Lord Stair rode back into Edinburgh; the city lights glimmered through purple haze as the June evening deepened and above the castle that stood black against the sky hung the first star. Lord Stair was riding slowly from the gate when he had to draw aside to admit the passage of a coach and four; as it swept rattling along the narrow street he recognized the silver and murrey of Lord Wharton’s liveries. Evidently my lord was returning to London; the Earl glanced after the coach with a strange satisfaction and smiled to himself as he noted that the blinds were drawn. Lord Wharton was likely to be afraid of the night air; he pictured him with his hands in a muff seated on cushions as the coach swung through the open gates onto the country road. Lord Stair went on his way; there were many people about, some excitement or uneasiness appeared to be abroad; he wondered grimly if the messenger from the King had arrived and if these churls mouthed his news already. No one recognized him in his plain riding-gear; he pulled his beaver further over his eyes and turned into the main street; here the crowd was denser; many were armed; he touched up his tired horse and was breaking into a trot when a girl stepped out from the passers-by and put her hand forcibly on his rein. “Lord Stair!” she said in a quick whisper. He stopped, looked down. “Lord Stair—dinna gang hame!” she said earnestly. He leaned from the saddle to catch her whisper. “You know me?” he asked easily. She nodded. “I hae seen ye ride frae the Parliament, Lord Stair,—dinna gang hame to-nicht!” “Why, mistress?” Her eyes glowed in the shadow of her hood. “They’re ganging to burn yer house, Lord Stair—to-nicht—I ken it a’ for ma ain Sandy is in it—sae—dinna gang hame!” She dropped her hand, trembling with excitement. “Ye canna save yer house, yet ye can save yer life.” He drew himself erect in his saddle and looked in the direction of his home. “This is Tweeddale’s and Johnstone’s setting on.” “Ay, Lord Stair—and the mob will make for yer life.” “I will go and demand soldiers.” “It willna’ serve, Lord Stair—they are a’ in league wi’ the mob.” He knew very well that her words were true. “Thank you, mistress,” he said with a sudden smile. “But I must go home—and quickly. I should never have left the house—I did not guess at this.” “Why, Lord Stair? Why must ye gang hame?” “Because of the Countess: she is alone. Thank you again, mistress.” He lifted his hat for a second and then turned rapidly down the street.