"I don't just mind whether there's a chance for thieves, but the
Bible says drunkards and such-like stand no chance at all."

"It's not for us to judge," said Jean primly, "but I have my
opinion."

Alan had been busily eating during this conversation, and now he
joined in. "I say," he began, "I'm not worrying about what will
become of Angus Niel after he's dead. I want to know what's going
to be done with him right now. We're the only ones that know
about this. Are we just going to keep whist, or shall we tell on
him?"

"Let's tell on him!" shouted Sandy.

"Who'll you be telling?" said Jean with some scorn.

"Why, the bailie, maybe, or the Auld Laird himself," said Sandy.

"Havers!" said Jean. "You're a braw lad to go hobnobbing with
the bailie. He'll not believe you, anyway; he's a friend of Angus
himself, and, as for the Auld Laird, how would you get hold of
him at all, and he far away in London?"

Sandy subsided, crushed, and then Jock had a bright idea. "I tell
you what we'll do," he cried, springing to his feet. "Let's have
a clan, like Rob Roy, and we'll just badger the life out of Angus
Niel. We'll never let him know who we are, but keep kim forever
stepping and give him no rest. If he thinks somebody's following
him up all the time, he'll not sleep easy o' nights!"