The man stared at me, and then at his wife, with a
look that spoke a knowledge of something alarming or
mysterious.
"Ha! Cowan?" said he. "That's most extraordinar! Not Colwan, I
hope?"
"No: Cowan is my sirname," said I. "But why not Colwan, there
being so little difference in the sound?"
"I was feared ye might be that waratch that the Deil has taen the
possession o', an' eggit him on to kill baith his father an' his
mother, his only brother, an' his sweetheart," said he; "an', to say
the truth, I'm no that sure about you yet, for I see you're gaun wi'
arms on ye."
"Not I, honest man," said I. "I carry no arms; a man conscious of
his innocence and uprightness of heart needs not to carry arms in
his defence now."
"Aye, aye, maister," said he; "an' pray what div ye ca' this bit
windlestrae that's appearing here?" With that he pointed to
something on the inside of the breast of my frock-coat. I looked
at it, and there certainly was the gilded haft of a poniard, the same
weapon I had seen and handled before, and which I knew my
illustrious companion carried about with him; but till that
moment I knew not that I was in possession of it.
Pages:
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322