The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 15 — John Shaqi
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 15Stevenson, Robert Louis
General
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 15
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century
LAWSON. Ye had nae possible excuse to fancy. Fancy? Perfect trash and
nonsense. Look at yersel'. Ye look like a ghaist, ye're white-like,
ye're black aboot the een; and do you find me deavin' ye wi' fancies? Or
William Brodie either? I'll say that for him.
LESLIE. 'Tis not sorrow that alters my complexion; I've something else
on hand. Come, I'll tell you, under seal. I've not been in bed till
daylight for a week.
LAWSON. Weel, there's nae sense in the like o' that.
LESLIE. Gad, but there is, though. Why, Procurator, this is town's
business; this is a municipal affair; I'm a public character. Why? Ah,
here's a nut for the Crown Prosecutor! I'm a bit of a party to a
robbery.
LAWSON. Guid guide us, man, what d'ye mean?
LESLIE. You shall hear. A week ago to-night I was passing through this
very room without a candle on my way to bed, when ... what should I see
but a masked man fumbling at that window! How he did the Lord knows. I
suspect, Procurator, it was not the first he'd tried ... for he opened
it as handily as his own front door.
LAWSON. Preserve me! Another of thae robberies!
LESLIE. That's it. And, of course, I tried to seize him. But the rascal
was too quick. He was down and away in an instant. You never saw a thing
so daring and adroit.
LAWSON. Is that a'? Ye're a bauld lad, I'll say that for ye. I'm glad it
wasna waur.
LESLIE. Yes, that's all plain sailing. But here's the hitch. Why didn't
I tell the Procurator-Fiscal? You never thought of that.
LAWSON. No, man. Why?
LESLIE. Aha! There's the riddle. Will you guess? No?... I thought I knew
the man.
LAWSON. What d'ye say?
LESLIE. I thought I knew him.
LAWSON. Wha was't?
LESLIE. Ah, there you go beyond me. That I cannot tell.
LAWSON. As God sees ye, laddie, are ye speaking truth?
LESLIE. Well ... of course!
LAWSON. The haill truth?
LESLIE. All of it. Why not?
LAWSON. Man, I'd a kind o' gliff.
LESLIE. Why, what were you afraid of? Had you a suspicion?
LAWSON. Me? Me a suspicion? Ye're daft, sir; and me the Crown
offeecial!... Eh, man, I'm a' shakin' ... And sae ye thocht ye kennt
him?
LESLIE. I did that. And what's more, I've sat every night in case of his
return. I promise you, Procurator, he shall not slip me twice.
Meanwhile, I'm worried and put out. You understand how such a fancy will
upset a man. I'm uneasy with my friends and on bad terms with my own
conscience. I keep watching, spying, comparing, putting two and two
together, and hunting for resemblances until my head goes round. It's
like a puzzle in a dream. Only yesterday I thought I had him. And who
d'you think it was?
LAWSON. Wha? Wha was't? Speak, Mr. Leslie, speak. I'm an auld man: dinna
forget that.
LESLIE. I name no names. It would be unjust to him; and, upon my word,
it was so silly it would be unfair to me. However, here I sit, night
after night. I mean him to come back; come back he shall; and I'll tell
you who he was next morning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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