ose dishonest hand.
I saw her lead the men into a little place called a pantry; and there
she gave them cordials, and I could hear them boasting.

Not to be too long over it--which they were much inclined to be--I
followed them from this drinking-bout, by the aid of the light they
bore, as far as Earl Brandir's bedroom, which I knew, because Lorna had
shown it to me that I might admire the tapestry. But I had said that no
horse could ever be shod as the horses were shod therein, unless he had
the foot of a frog, as well as a frog to his foot. And Lorna had been
vexed at this (as taste and high art always are, at any small accurate
knowledge), and so she had brought me out again, before I had time to
admire things.

Now, keeping well away in the dark, yet nearer than was necessary to my
own dear Lorna's room, I saw these fellows try the door of the good Earl
Brandir, knowing from the maid, of course, that his lordship could hear
nothing, except the name of Alan. They tried the lock, and pushed at it,
and even set their knees upright; but a Scottish nobleman may be trusted
to secure his door at night. So they were forced to break it open; and
at this the guilty maid, or woman, ran away. These three rogues--for
rogues they were, and no charity may deny it--burst into Earl Brandir's
room, with a light, and a crowbar, and fire-arms. I thought to myself
that this was hard upon an honest nobleman; and if further mischief
could be saved, I would try to save it.

When I came to the door of the room, being myself in shadow, I beheld
two bad men trying vainly to break open the pewter box, and the third
with a pistol-muzzle laid to the night-cap of his lordship. With foul
face and yet fouler words, this man was demanding the key of the box,
which the other men could by no means open, neither drag it from the
chain.

[Illustration: 639.jpg Two bad men]

"I tell you," said this aged Earl, beginning to understand at last what
these rogues were up for; "I will give no key to you. It all belongs to
my boy, Alan. No one else shall have a farthing."

"Then you may count your moments, lord. The key is in your old cramped
hand. One, two, and at three, I shoot you."

I saw that the old man was abroad; not with fear, but with great wonder,
and the regrets of deafness. And I saw that rather would he be shot
than let these men go rob his son, buried now, or laid to bleach in the
tangles of the wood, three, or it might be four years agon