ess unhappy. It was not only that his
Chamberlain's condition grieved him, but that the whole affair put him
in a quandary where the good citizen quarrelled in him with another old
Highland gentleman whose code of morals was not in strict accord with
written statutes. He had studied the Pandects at Utrecht, but also he
had been young there, and there was a place (if all tales be true) on
the banks of the Yssel River where among silent polders a young Scot had
twice at least fought with the sword upon some trivial matter of debate
with Netherlanders of his college. And then he knew his Chamberlain.
About Simon MacTaggart Argyll had few illusions, though they perhaps
made all the difference in his conduct to the gentleman in question.
That MacTaggart should have brought upon himself a tardy retribution
for acts more bold than scrupulous was not to be wondered at; that the
meeting with Count Victor was honourably conducted, although defective
in its form, was almost certain; but here the assailant was in his
custody, and whether he liked it or not he must hand him over to the
law.

His first impulse had been to wash his hands of all complicity in the
Frenchman's fate by sending him straightway to the common town tolbooth,
pending his trial in the ordinary course; but he hesitated from an
intuition that the step would find no favour in the eyes of his Duchess,
who had her own odd prejudices regarding Sim MacTaggart, and an interest
in Count Victor none the less ardent because it was but a day or two
old.

"A man! Archie, every bit of him!" she had said at the conclusion
of last evening's entertainment; and though without depreciating his
visitor he had attempted to convince her that her estimate ran the
risk of being prejudiced by her knowledge of the quixotic mission the
foreigner was embarked on, she had refused to see in Count Victor's
accent, face, and carriage anything but the most adorable character.
She ever claimed a child's attribute of attraction or repulsion on mere
instinct to and from men's mere exteriors, and her husband knew it was
useless to expect any approval from her for any action that might savour
of the slightest harshness to the foreigner.

But above all he feared--he dreaded--something else. Simon MacTaggart
was to him more than a servant; he knew many of his failings, but seemed
to tolerate them because he also, like Count Victor, had learned not
to expect too much from human nature. But it was e