desire to have the Burgh police coming about and interfering with
her business. She knocked sharply on the door and called:

"Auld Jock!"

Bobby trotted over to the door and stood looking at it. In such a
strait he would naturally have welcomed the visitor, scratching
on the panel, and crying to any human body without to come in and
see what had befallen his master. But Auld Jock had bade him
"haud 'is gab" there, as in Greyfriars kirkyard. So he held to
loyal silence, although the knocking and shaking of the latch was
insistent and the lodgers were astir. The voice of the old woman
was shrill with alarm.

"Auld Jock, can ye no' wauken?" And, after a moment, in which the
unlatched casement window within could be heard creaking on its
hinges in the chill breeze, there was a hushed and frightened
question:

"Are ye deid?"

The footsteps fled down the stairs, and Bobby was left to watch
through the long hours of darkness.

Very early in the morning the flimsy door was quietly forced by
authority. The first man who entered--an officer of the Crown
from the sheriff's court on the bridge--took off his hat to the
majesty that dominated that bare cell. The Cowgate region
presented many a startling contrast, but such a one as this must
seldom have been seen. The classic fireplace, and the motionless