The company looked at one another, for all was over before any
of them knew such a thing was begun. "What the devil is the
matter?" cried one. "What ails Drummond?" cried another. "Who
has he quarrelled with?" asked a third.

"Don't know."--"Can't tell, on my life."--"He has quarrelled with
his wine, I suppose, and is going to send it a challenge."

Such were the questions, and such the answers that passed in the
jovial party, and the matter was no more thought of.

But in the course of a very short space, about the length which the
ideas of the company were the next day at great variance, a sharp
rap came to the door. it was opened by a female; but, there being
a chain inside, she only saw one side of the person at the door. He
appeared to be a young gentleman, in appearance like him who
had lately left the house, and asked, in a low whispering voice, "if
young Dalcastle was still in the house?" The woman did not
know. "If he is," added he, "pray tell him to speak with me for a
few minutes." The woman delivered the message before all the
party, among whom there were then sundry courteous ladies of
notable distinction, and George, on receiving it, instantly rose
from the side of one of them, and said, in the hearing of them all,
'I will bet a hundred merks that is Drummond."--"Don't go to
quarrel with him, George," said one.--"Bring him in with you,"
said another. George stepped out; the door was again bolted, the
chain drawn across, and the inadvertent party, left within, thought
no more of the circumstance till the morning, that the report had
spread over the city that a young gentleman had been slain, on a
little washing-green at the side of the North Loch, and at the very