"Now, you must not talk more," said Herries, covering her up. "As your doctor, I should not have allowed you to chatter, when your throat is still weak. Elspeth," he turned to the girl, when Mrs. Kind was quiet, "go to the inn, and tell Sweetlips to come to me, along with Browne, if he is there. I want to hear everything up-to-date and arrange my plans." "Angus," she whispered, imploringly, "you will not give yourself up?" "Not unless Browne and Sweetlips advise. I place myself in their hands. Good-bye, dear." "Good-bye!" Elspeth was just receiving his kiss, when a thundering knock came rattling at the door. The sick woman raised herself, much startled and the lovers sprang apart. "Garryowen" had not been whistled or sang, and the triple signal had not been given. This was some stranger,--perhaps some enemy. Gathering her wits together, Elspeth pointed mutely to the still gaping hiding-place, and Herries lay down without a single word. In a twinkling, she had touched the spring and the flooring hid him from sight. The knock came again. CHAPTER XII THE STRANGE WORD As soon as the noise of the second knock died away sufficiently to permit speech, Elspeth raised her voice crossly, with a glance round to see that nothing telltale was about. "All right! All right," she said in angry tones, and opening the door. "Who is there? What do you want? Mrs. Kind is ill; don't disturb her." "It's only me," said Pope Narby, who was standing, long and lean and chilly, on the steps. "I've come for you, Elspeth, as mother wants you, and she says she'll have the hair out of your head if you don't come up sharply. And I want writing-paper for myself. There's none at home, or in the shop, so I thought I'd get it here." "You might have knocked a little more gently," said Elspeth, relieved to see that Pope had no suspicions. "Poor Mrs. Kind is so ill." "You startled me rarely, lad," said the sick woman, taking her cue. "And why do you want Elspeth? I can't be left by myself." "Your husband's at home," explained Pope. "That he isn't," said Mrs. Kind grimly. "I mean he's at my home, drinking, and talking about the inquest." "Oh! he is," cried the sick woman, with pretended wrath, "then just you tell him that I'm all alone, and that if he doesn't come back, I'll clip him over the head." "All right. Come along, Elspeth. Oh wait--the paper?" Mrs. Kind pointed to a shelf over her head. "The box is up there, my dearie; the best writing-paper and dirt cheap."