was yer tyke makin' fu'
split for Kenmuir, and Wullie comin' up the hill to me. It's God's
truth, I'm tellin' ye. Tak' him hame, James Moore, and let his dinner be
an ounce o' lead. 'Twill be the best day's work iver ye done."

The little man must be lying--lying palpably. Yet he spoke with
an earnestness, a seeming belief in his own story, that might have
convinced one who knew him less well. But the Master only looked down on
him with a great scorn.

"It's Monday to-day," he said coldly. "I gie yo' till Saturday. If yo've
not done your duty by then--and well you know what 'tis--I shall come
do it for ye. Ony gate, I shall come and see. I'll remind ye agin o'
Thursday--yo'll be at the Manor dinner, I suppose. Noo I've warned yo',
and you know best whether I'm in earnest or no. Bob, lad!"

He turned away, but turned again.

"I'm sorry for ye, but I've ma duty to do--so've you. Till Saturday I
shall breathe no word to ony soul o' this business, so that if you see
good to put him oot o' the way wi'oot bother, no one need iver know as
hoo Adam M'Adam's Red Wull was the Black Killer."

He turned away for the second time. But the little man sprang after him,
and clutched him by the arm.

"Look ye here, James Moore!" he cried in thick, shaky, horrible voice.
"Ye're big, I'm sma'; ye're strang, I'm weak; ye've ivery one to your
back, I've niver a one; you tell your story, and they'll believe ye--for
you gae to church; I'll tell mine, and they'll think I lie--for I dinna.
But a word in your ear! If iver agin I catch ye on ma land, by--!"--he
swore a great oath--"I'll no spare ye. You ken best if I'm in earnest or
no." And his face was dreadful to see in its hideous determinedness.

Chapter XXVII FOR THE DEFENCE

THAT night a vague story was whispered In the Sylvester Arms. But
Tammas, on being interrogated, pursed his lips and said: "Nay, I'm sworn
to say nowt." Which was the old man's way of putting that he knew nowt.

* * * * *

On Thursday morning, James Moore and Andrew came down arrayed in all
their best. It was the day of the squire's annual dinner to his tenants.

The two, however, were not allowed to start upon their way until they
had undergone a critical inspection by Maggie; for the girl liked her
mankind to do honor to Kenmuir on these occasions. So she brushed
up Andrew, tied his scarf, saw his boots and hands were clean, and
titivated him generally till she had co