cuse and slipped to bed, I kept an eye upon her without cease: and
I can bear testimony that she never smiled, scarce spoke, and looked
mostly on the board in front of her. So that I really marvelled to see
so much devotion (as it used to be) changed into the very sickness of
hate.

Of James More it is unnecessary to say much; you know the man already,
what there was to know of him; and I am weary of writing out his lies.
Enough that he drank a great deal, and told us very little that was to
any possible purpose. As for the business with Alan, that was to be
reserved for the morrow and his private hearing.

It was the more easy to be put off, because Alan and I were pretty weary
with our day's ride, and sat not very late after Catriona.

We were soon alone in a chamber where we were to make shift with a
single bed. Alan looked on me with a queer smile.

"Ye muckle ass!" said he.

"What do ye mean by that?" I cried.

"Mean? What do I mean? It's extraordinar, David man," says he, "that you
should be so mortal stupit."

Again I begged him to speak out.

"Well, it's this of it," said he. "I told ye there were the two kinds of
women--them that would sell their shifts for ye, and the others. Just
you try for yoursel', my bonny man I But what's that neepkin at your
craig?"

I told him.

"I thocht it was something there about," said he.

Nor would he say another word though I besieged him long with
importunities.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XXX

THE LETTER FROM THE SHIP

Daylight showed us how solitary the inn stood. It was plainly hard upon
the sea, yet out of all view of it, and beset on every side with scabbit
hills of sand. There was, indeed, only one thing in the nature of a
prospect, where there stood out over a brae the two sails of a windmill,
like an ass's ears, but with the ass quite hidden. It was strange (after
the wind rose, for at first it was dead calm) to see the turning and
following of each other of these great sails behind the hillock. Scarce
any road came by there; but a number of footways travelled among the
bents in all directions up to Mr. Bazin's door. The truth is, he was a
man of many trades, not any one of them honest, and the position of his
inn was the best of his livelihood. Smugglers frequented it; political
agents and forfeited persons bound across the water came there to await
their passages; and I daresay there was worse behind, for a whole fam