"You make me think," said I, and told him of the whistle and the
red-headed retainer, Neil.

"Wherever James More is there's one big rogue, never be deceived on
that," said he. "His father was none so ill a man, though a kenning on
the wrong side of the law, and no friend to my family, that I should
waste my breath to be defending him! But as for James he's a brock and a
blagyard. I like the appearing of this red-headed Neil as little as
yourself. It looks uncanny: fiegh! it smells bad. It was old Lovat that
managed the Lady Grange affair, if young Lovat is to handle yours, it'll
be all in the family. What's James More in prison for? The same offence:
abduction. His men have had practice in the business. He'll be to lend
them to be Symon's instruments; and the next thing we'll be hearing,
James will have made his peace, or else he'll have escaped; and you'll
be in Benbecula or Applecross."

"Ye make a strong case," I admitted.

"And what I want," he resumed, "is that you should disappear yourself
ere they can get their hands upon ye. Lie quiet until just before the
trial, and spring upon them at the last of it when they'll be looking
for you least. This is always supposing, Mr. Balfour, that your evidence
is worth so very great a measure of both risk and fash."

"I will tell you one thing," said I. "I saw the murderer and it was not
Alan."

"Then, by God, my cousin's saved!" cried Stewart. "You have his life
upon your tongue; and there's neither time, risk, nor money to be spared
to bring you to the trial." He emptied his pockets on the floor. "Here