man looked at the note, then at his foot-rule and measure, then
verified his former measurement by a second. 'They correspond,' he said,
'within a hair-breadth to a foot-mark broader and shorter than the
former.'

Hatteraick's genius here deserted him. 'Der deyvil!' he broke out, 'how
could there be a footmark on the ground, when it was a frost as hard as
the heart of a Memel log?'

'In the evening, I grant you, Captain Hatteraick,' said Pleydell, 'but
not in the forenoon. Will you favour me with information where you were
upon the day you remember so exactly?'

Hatteraick saw his blunder, and again screwed up his hard features for
obstinate silence. 'Put down his observation, however,' said Pleydell to
the clerk.

At this moment the door opened, and, much to the surprise of most
present, Mr. Gilbert Glossin made his appearance. That worthy gentleman
had, by dint of watching and eavesdropping, ascertained that he was not
mentioned by name in Meg Merrilies's dying declaration--a circumstance
certainly not owing to any favourable disposition towards him, but to the
delay of taking her regular examination, and to the rapid approach of
death. He therefore supposed himself safe from all evidence but such as
might arise from Hatteraick's confession; to prevent which he resolved to
push a bold face and join his brethren of the bench during his
examination. 'I shall be able,' he thought, 'to make the rascal sensible
his safety lies in keeping his own counsel and mine; and my presence,
besides, will be a proof of confidence and innocence. If I must lose the
estate, I must; but I trust better things.'

He entered with a profound salutation to Sir Robert Hazlewood. Sir
Robert, who had rather begun to suspect that his plebeian neighbour had
made a cat's paw of him, inclined his head stiffly, took snuff, and
looked another way.

'Mr. Corsand,' said Glossin to the other yokefellow of justice, 'your
most humble servant.'

'Your humble servant, Mr. Glossin,' answered Mr. Corsand drily, composing
his countenance regis ad exemplar, that is to say, after the fashion of
the Baronet.

'Mac-Morlan, my worthy friend,' continued Glossin, 'how d' ye do; always
on your duty?'

'Umph,' said honest Mac-Morlan, with little respect either to the
compliment or salutation.

'Colonel Mannering (a low bow slightly returned), and Mr. Pleydell
(another low bow), I dared not have hoped for your assistance to poor
country gentlemen at this pe