the grand outlines of the Rock towered as it lifted its
head majestically into the gold halo that lay beyond.

Not a sound or stir, even the sparrows were barely awake, as Baubie
darted along. Fixing her eye on that portion of the High School which is
visible from Princes street, she pushed along at a pace that was almost
a run, and a brief space saw her draw up and fall exhausted on the steps
that lead up to the Calton Hill.

Right before her was the jail-gate.

The child's feet, unused now for some time to such hardships, were hot
and bruised, for she had not stopped to pick her footing in her hasty
course, and she was so out of breath and heated that it seemed to her as
if she would never get cool or her heart cease fluttering as if it would
choke her. She shrank discreetly against the stone wall at her side, and
there for three long hours she remained crouched, watching and waiting
for the hour to chime when the grim black gate opposite would open.

The last tinge of crimson and purple had faded before the golden glories
of the day as the sun climbed higher and higher in the serene blue sky.
The red cliffs of Salisbury Crags glared with a hot lustre above the
green slopes of the hill, and in the white dust of the high-road a
million tiny stars seemed to sparkle and twinkle most invitingly to
Baubie's eyes. The birds had long been awake and busy in the bushes
above her head, and from where she sat she could see, in the distant
glitter of Princes street, all the stir of the newly-raised day.

It was a long vigil, and her fear and impatience made it seem doubly
longer. At last the clock began to chime eight, and before it was half
done the wicket in the great door opened with a noisy clang after a
preliminary rattle.

First came a boy, who cast an anxious look round him, then set off at a
run; next a young woman, for whom another was waiting just out of sight
down the road; last of all (there were only three released), Baubie,
whose heart was beginning to beat fast again with anxiety, saw the
familiar, well-known figure shamble forth and look up and down the road
in a helpless, undecided way. The next moment the wicket had clapped to
again. Wishart glanced back at it, sighed once or twice, and blinked his
eyes as though the sunlight were too strong for them.

Baubie, scarce breathing, watched him as a cat watches just before she
springs.

After a second of hesitation he began to move cityward, obeying some
sh