“Lochiel’s tacksmen are taking the oaths by the hundreds, the Macphersons and the Frasers, the Munros and the Macleods are come in—” Her voice was sharp and angry. “’Tis most sudden—most unexpected!” she cried. Argyll sat up in his chair, roused from his sneer. “And the Macdonalds o’ Glencoe?” he asked. “They hav’na’ come in yet,” she answered. “Nor yet Clanronald or Keppoch—but it looks ill that these should submit—Jock seems disturbed.” Argyll put down his tea-cup and rose. “They have been warned,” he said. Their eyes met. “By whom?” asked the Countess. Argyll shrugged his shoulders. “By some agent of King James.” “But how could any know?” “’Tis their business,” answered Argyll, “to discover these matters—of a certainty these men have been warned.” The Countess turned to Glenlyon. “Captain Campbell, know ye more than is writ here?” “No, my lady, my lord will be with ye to-morrow, and I’ve no’ any knowledge. My lord didna’ gie me aught but the message.” “Ye may gang, sir,” she answered. “Thank ye for your service.” Glenlyon bowed himself from the room, and the Countess turned again to her letter. “This will be a blow to the Master of Stair,” said Argyll “But it is no’ _all_ the clans hae come in,” she answered quickly. Argyll smiled. “But the Master of Stair was reckoning on all, cousin.” He drew a letter from his pocket and unfolded it. “See, the last he wrote me.” He pointed to a sentence and read it aloud. “‘As I wrote to you formerly, if the rest are willing to concur, to pull down Glencoe’s nest this winter, as the crows do—thus destroying him and his clan, ’twill be as fully acceptable as if he had come in. This answers all ends and satisfies those who complain of the King’s too great gentleness.’ Ye see,” commented Argyll, “he is very bitter—he would like to sweep the Hielands wi’ fire and sword. He wrote to me that if none came in—he hoped six thousand might be slain.” “But they hae come in!” cried the Countess impatiently. “Still—if the Macdonalds dinna—if we can be freed o’ that nest o’ murdering thieves, ’twill be somewhat—Keppoch too, and the ither chiefs may stand out.” Argyll put his letter back in his pocket. “They must not take the oaths,” he said peevishly. “If they do it must be suppressed—surely with the aid o’ the Master o’ Stair we can do that?” “I dinna believe they will take them,” answered the Countess. “They hate us too much and they think themselves ower safe in Glencoe.” “’Tis a fearfu’ place to enter,” said her cousin. “But no’ impossible ye ken—ye see—they could send the soldiers from Fort William—and I one side and Breadalbane the other—they would be in a trap.” He looked thoughtfully into the fire and fondled the arm of his chair with restless thin fingers. “There is ane person we have no’ considered,” he remarked, “the King.” “William o’ Orange?” she questioned.