"Trust him! For gold he would sell his father's bones, and his own slender chance of salvation; but I'll have him followed, and prove whether or not he plays us foul." The messenger of Home was no other than the unwilling Laird of Blackcastle, who had been sleeping in his armour on a stone bench in the upper hall of the King's Wark, and who grumbled under his helmet as he followed Borthwick through the dark and narrow streets of Leith in the grey light of the morning. Turning off towards the Timber Bourse he saw him enter the narrow alley which led to Tibby Tarvet's alehouse, and there he met Willie Wad in a high state of excitement. "What ho, Master Wad," said he, "you are abroad betimes." "Abroad betimes, thou dog-thief and loon; thou'st boarded me like a pirate in the night, and stolen a letter frae me." "Beware ye, sirrah, of what you say," replied Borthwick, making a show of dignified indignation; "beware, for I am a man of a good repute, that must not be impugned; but if this be the letter you have lost--" "It is--it is," said Wad, almost dancing with joy as the other displayed the missing article; "and where got ye it?" "Lying at the close-head." "Say you so? Could I have dropped it?" "You know best." "My deck was overstown wi' usquebaugh--donnart deil that I am, it must have been so!" "This letter is of value then?? "I would rather lose my starboard fin than it." "Then it is well worth a crown." "To those wha hae crowns to spare," said the gunner. Borthwick took a firmer grasp of the packet. "What, will a gay gentleman in a scarlet cloak, chaffer thus wi' a puir mariner like me?" asked Wad, with astonishment mingled with contempt. "I have said the letter is well worth a crown." "Crowns hae I none--but I will gie what I have, and then let us part; sorrow be on the hour I met you." As money poured upon this wretched bravo, avarice grew and strengthened in his heart; and he omitted no opportunity of gathering all he could win; knowing well that ere long Scotland would be too hot to hold him. "A' I hae is here," said Wad, opening a secret nook in his pouch; "three rose-nobles, and welcome you are to them." "Rose-nobles," said Borthwick, suspiciously, and pricking up his ears at the sound; "where got you them?" "In the pouch of a dead Englishman. Take them; the letter, the letter!" said Willie, losing all patience, and beginning to grasp his knife with one hand, while by the other he angrily snatched away the billet. "You are I doubtna a thief and limmer to boot--despite your braw gear and laced mantle. But off! sheer off, I say, or may I drink bilge, if by one hearty kick I dinna double you up like a bolt of wet canvas!"