"Does that mean that ye're bent on the cairds?" asked Mr. Bishopriggs,
suddenly betraying signs of worldly anxiety in his look and manner.

"Yes--that means I am bent on the cards."

"I tak' up my testimony against 'em--but I'm no' telling ye that I canna
lay my hand on 'em if I like. What do they say in my country? 'Him that
will to Coupar, maun to Coupar.' And what do they say in your country?
'Needs must when the deevil drives.'" With that excellent reason for
turning his back on his own principles, Mr. Bishopriggs shuffled out of
the room to fetch the cards.

The dresser-drawer in the pantry contained a choice selection of
miscellaneous objects--a pack of cards being among them. In searching
for the cards, the wary hand of the head-waiter came in contact with a
morsel of crumpled-up paper. He drew it out, and recognized the letter
which he had picked up in the sitting-room some hours since.

"Ay! ay! I'll do weel, I trow, to look at this while my mind's runnin'
on it," said Mr. Bishopriggs. "The cairds may e'en find their way to the
parlor by other hands than mine."

He forthwith sent the cards to Arnold by his second in command, closed
the pantry door, and carefully smoothed out the crumpled sheet of paper
on which the two letters were written. This done, he trimmed his candle,
and began with the letter in ink, which occupied the first three pages
of the sheet of note-paper.

It ran thus: