d grinned a smile of satisfaction.

"That mediciner will show thee the party. Take such advantage of time,
place, and circumstance as will ensure the result; and mind you come not
by the worst, for the man is the fighting Smith of the Wynd."

"It Will be a tough job," growled the assassin; "for if I miss my blow,
I may esteem myself but a dead man. All Perth rings with the smith's
skill and strength."

"Take two assistants with thee," said the knight.

"Not I," said Bonthron. "If you double anything, let it be the reward."

"Account it doubled," said his master; "but see thy work be thoroughly
executed."

"Trust me for that, sir knight: seldom have I failed."

"Use this sage man's directions," said the wounded knight, pointing to
the physician. "And hark thee, await his coming forth, and drink not
till the business be done."

"I will not," answered the dark satellite; "my own life depends on my
blow being steady and sure. I know whom I have to deal with."

"Vanish, then, till he summons you, and have axe and dagger in
readiness."

Bonthron nodded and withdrew.

"Will your knighthood venture to entrust such an act to a single hand?"
said the mediciner, when the assassin had left the room. "May I pray you
to remember that yonder party did, two nights since, baffle six armed
men?"

"Question me not, sir mediciner: a man like Bonthron, who knows time and
place, is worth a score of confused revellers. Call Eviot; thou shalt
first exert thy powers of healing, and do not doubt that thou shalt,
in the farther work, be aided by one who will match thee in the art of
sudden and unexpected destruction."

The page Eviot again appeared at the mediciner's summons, and at his
master's sign assisted the chirurgeon in removing the dressings from
Sir John Ramorny's wounded arm. Dwining viewed the naked stump with
a species of professional satisfaction, enhanced, no doubt, by the
malignant pleasure which his evil disposition took in the pain and
distress of his fellow creatures. The knight just turned his eye on the
ghastly spectacle, and uttered, under the pressure of bodily pain or
mental agony, a groan which he would fain have repressed.

"You groan, sir," said the leech, in his soft, insinuating tone of
voice, but with a sneer of enjoyment, mixed with scorn, curling upon
his lip, which his habitual dissimulation could not altogether
disguise--"you groan; but be comforted. This Henry Smith knows his
business: his sword