It was now dusk, and though the little town was full of armed men, its narrow streets were becoming empty. They were then alike destitute of lamps and pavement, and darkened by many a heavy projecting timber-front and turnpike stair or stone outshot. Thus Borthwick followed his victim unseen and with facility as he rambled along without any apparent object. On the east bank of the Leith, the banner of Angus waved above the King's Wark, which stood on the north side of the Broad Wynd, the houses of which were occupied by his vassals; while the Lairds of Glendonwyn, Heriotmuir, Bonjedworth, Glenbervie, and ten other powerful barons, making fourteen heads of houses, all bearing his surname of _Douglas_, were installed in the best adjacent mansions, _sans_ leave and _sans_ ceremony. The King's Wark, which their haughty and presumptuous leader appropriated to himself (leaving the young prince to occupy the house of Barton), was a strong and ancient tower, in which the kings of Scotland occasionally resided--hence its name. It was surrounded by a spacious garden, with which it was bestowed by James VI. on a groom of the bedchamber, Bernard Lindesay, of Lochill, from whom the site is still named Bernards-street, or Neuk. The number of armed men, all wearing the Douglas badge, who hovered about the vicinity of this place, made the gunner avoid it, and he turned abruptly into a dark and narrow close, which led towards the Timber Bourse, where an old friend of his, Tibby Tarvet, whose spouse had been taken prisoner by the Turks, kept a change-house for mariners, locally known as Tib's Howff. The alley which led to this place was dark as if the time was midnight, owing to the height and projection of the houses; therefore, when Borthwick contrived to meet Wad face to face, he asked the question, which may still be heard at times in the same kind of closes in Scottish towns after nightfall-- "Is there any one coming?" "Yo ho!--heave to, or port your helm," cried Wad, who was already some "sheets in the wind;" and he added, "the channel's narrow, whereby I've to mak' short tacks, ye ken." "Then keep to your left hand," said Borthwick, who having some idea of using his poniard, wished his right hand free; but then, on a moment's reflection, he feared to encounter a man so stout as Wad, and therefore altered his plan, and came roughly and rudely against him in the dark. "Damn ye! did I no shout 'Port your helm?'" asked the gunner, angrily; "whereby we would baith have had sea-room enough to clear each other." "Upon my faith, I believe it is my good friend Master Wad!--Master Wad, good morrow," said Borthwick, with well affected surprise and satisfaction.