imperfect. The other fellow is a deserter, a gipsy, and an outlaw.
Meg Merrilies, d-n her, is dead. These infernal bills! Hatteraick
brought them with him, I suppose, to have the means of threatening
me or extorting money from me. I must endeavour to see the rascal;
must get him to stand steady; must persuade him to put some other
colour upon the business.'

His mind teeming with schemes of future deceit to cover former
villainy, he spent the time in arranging and combining them until
the hour of supper. Mac-Guffog attended as turnkey on this
occasion. He was, as we know, the old and special acquaintance of
the prisoner who was now under his charge. After giving the
turnkey a glass of brandy, and sounding him with one or two
cajoling speeches, Glossin made it his request that he would help
him to an interview with Dirk Hatteraick. 'Impossible! utterly
impossible! it's contrary to the express orders of Mr. Mac-Morlan,
and the captain (as the head jailor of a county jail is called in
Scotland) would never forgie me.'

'But why should he know of it?' said Glossin, slipping a couple of
guineas into Mac-Guffog's hand.

The turnkey weighed the gold and looked sharp at Glossin. 'Ay, ay,
Mr. Glossin, ye ken the ways o' this place. Lookee, at lock-up
hour I'll return and bring ye upstairs to him. But ye must stay a'
night in his cell, for I am under needcessity to carry the keys to
the captain for the night, and I cannot let you out again until
morning; then I'll visit the wards half an hour earlier than
usual, and ye may get out and be snug in your ain birth when the
captain gangs his rounds.'