"Yes, yes, yes," he broke out, suddenly, drawing himself close up to his desk and seizing a pen, with which he began making slow notes on the paper before him. "What did you say the young man's name was?" he muttered. "Oh, yes, Nairn--Archibald Nairn. Yes. Fort William--eh? French officer in active service. And you can give me your word he was not in arms-- eh?" "I can, your Grace, without hesitation." The moment I had spoken I saw my mistake. So did his Grace, who wheeled round on me like a flash. "Then, sir, I take it you are in a position to know!" My blood fairly ran cold, for I saw only too clearly his folly of manner was but a cloak, and that now it was quite as much a question of myself as of Nairn. "I am, your Grace," I answered, in my most assured tones. "Perhaps you are able to produce a muster-roll of the rebel forces--eh, Captain Fitzgerald? That would be highly satisfactory in more ways than one." "Surely, your Grace, this is no laughing matter. Your Grace has my word of honour that Captain Nairn was not in Scotland until after Culloden was fought--" "--And lost--Captain Fitzgerald? Surely that is not the way for a loyal subject to put it." "I cannot cross swords with your Grace," I returned, with a low bow to cover my trepidation; "even if our positions did not make it an impossibility, it would be too unequal a contest." The flattery was gross, and only my apprehensions could excuse its clumsiness, but to my intense relief it availed, and he turned to his desk again, while I held my breath expectant of his next attack. But none came. He muttered and mumbled to himself, while we stood stock-still, scarce venturing to look at each other, for the fate of Nairn was hanging in the balance, and a straw might turn it either way. At length he picked up his pen and wrote rapidly for a few moments; then carefully sanding the paper he read it over slowly, still muttering and shaking his head; but at last, turning to Margaret, who all this time had remained on her knees, he handed it to her, saying: "There, miss; take it, take it. Get married; get your brother married; but for Heaven's sake don't bring up any little rebels! And Captain Fitzgerald," he added, meaningly, "don't imagine I can't see as far as other men! No thanks! No! I hate thanks, and tears--and--and--Good-morning, ladies, good-morning!" whereupon he rose and shuffled over in front of the fire, where he stood rubbing his hands, leaving us to bow ourselves out to a full view of his back, which, upon my soul, was a fairer landscape than his face--but with Margaret holding fast the order for her brother's release. CHAPTER VI HOW I TAKE TO THE ROAD AGAIN, AND OF THE COMPANY I FALL IN WITH I fully expected an outburst from Lady Jane the moment we were in the coach, but all she said was: