'No, no! that won't do. Brown's dead, shot, laid in the locker,
man; the devil has the picking of him.

'Dead? shot? At Woodbourne, I suppose?' replied Glossin.

'Yaw, Mynheer.'

Glossin paused; the sweat broke upon his brow with the agony of
his feelings, while the hard-featured miscreant who sat opposite
coolly rolled his tobacco in his cheek and squirted the juice into
the fire-grate. 'It would be ruin,' said Glossin to himself,
'absolute ruin, if the heir should reappear; and then what might
be the consequence of conniving with these men? Yet there is so
little time to take measures. Hark you, Hatteraick; I can't set
you at liberty; but I can put you where you may set yourself at
liberty, I always like to assist an old friend. I shall confine
you in the old castle for to-night, and give these people double
allowance of grog. MacGuffog will fall in the trap in which he
caught you. The stancheons on the window of the strong room, as
they call it, are wasted to pieces, and it is not above twelve
feet from the level of the ground without, and the snow lies
thick.'

'But the darbies,' said Hatteraick, looking upon his fetters.

'Hark ye,' said Glossin, going to a tool chest, and taking out a
small file, 'there's a friend for you, and you know the road to the
sea by the stairs.' Hatteraick shook his chains in ecstasy, as if
he were already at liberty, and strove to extend his fettered hand
towards his protector. Glossin laid his finger upon his lips with