His sallow cheek glowed, his dark eye flashed, and taking a very handsome pair of pistols from the mantelpiece, he began to load them with great deliberation having previously summoned his faithful rascal Juden, by furiously ringing a handbell. "What's in the wind now, my Lord?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, having been abruptly summoned from an afternoon nap. "You will learn ere long," said his lord with a sternness that made the bluff butler's eyes to dilate with surprise; "but see that you are as prompt to act as to ask questions. You must bear a message from me to the Place." "Eh? to Drumsheugh--at this time?" "To Beatrix Gilruth." "My Lord--I--I--" stammered Juden. "Saddle a horse, ride round the loch, and tell her that the young lass she wots of will be there to-night, and that she must have some of the old rooms in the north wing, those that overlook the rocks, prepared for her reception." "Where the gipsy was put, that we harled awa frae the west country?" "What, the wench whom Holsterlee took off my hands, the same. You stare oddly--dost hear me fellow--art thou sober?" "As a judge, my Lord." "Then hear me and obey. Desire this hag, Beatrix, to have all prepared for my fair one's reception--fires lit and tapestry brushed, and, on peril of thine own life, be speedy and secret. Tarry neither there nor by the way, as I will want thee when the town drum beats at ten o'clock." "She's an uncanny body, Lucky Gilruth, though I mind the time when there was not a bonnier lass in a' the Lowdens," said Juden, scratching his rough chin with undisguised perplexity; "but now, the auld wrinkled hizzie, she deserves the tar barrel as weel as lucky Elshendder." "What the devil is all this to me?" "It is a lonesome and eerie road across Halkerstoun's crofts by the lang gate, and on such an errand to such a woman, with the mirk night coming on----" "Blockhead! thou hast been guzzling in the wine cellar. Begone, or I will beat thee; but first have the mare saddled as well as the horse, and procure a good link, and fail not when the drum beats. I will ride the Duke, 'tis a strong old trooper, and used to carrying double--hah! Away, away, and on peril of thy life, speak of this to no man." "You will find me as of auld, Clermistonlee, a hawk of the right nest." "Look well to Meg's girths." "Ay, my Lord, a fidging mear should be weel girded--now then hoe! for the Place." Juden drained a wine cup that his master handed him, and in five minutes more, the mare's hoofs rang on the causeway of the steep wynd, and died away as he descended into the deep gorge; under Neil's Craigs, wheeled through the Beggar's Row, and ascended the opposite bank. CHAPTER XVI. THE TEN O'CLOCK DRUM. DU CHATEL. The gates stand open; no man shall molest you. Count Dunois, follow me--you gain no honour in lingering here.