“ There is trouble at hame,” says he, “ but, though I have the
gravest suspicions, I have no direct proof. It has been borne
in upon my mind that the nurse you were good enough to
send me is of intemperate habits.”
"What!” says I, “surely that canna be; she wis recommended to me by the Rev. Mr. Pinkerton, wi’ a character three pages lang.”
“ True,” says he, “ yet my cook and housemaid have been with me three years come the time, and I have never heard any ill o’ them.”
“ But,” quoth I, impatiently, “ hae ye missed onything ? ”
“ I am sorry to say I have,” says Maister Fleming. “ I had six bottles of port, three bottles of sherry, and a bottle of whisky, in the sideboard, but they are all empty, and no body can tell how the thing has occurred. Somebody has been guilty, yet there is no conclusive evidence against any one; and, as one might lay himself open to an action for defamation of character, I am at a loss to know how to act.”
“ Maister Fleming,” says I, “ this is a thing only a wumman can get to the bottom o’. Will ye leave it to me ? ”
Of course he left it to me. It wis a question that couldna be settled in court, for nae respectable lawyer wud rin the risk o’ layin a public charge against onybody’s character that he wisna prepared to prove. Next day I went to the hoose, and precognosed the cook and housemaid. “ Tell the truth,” says I, solemnly—-just to impress them wi’ a sense o’ the awfulness o’ justice—“Any attempt at prevarication or deceit will bring doon a terrible punishment on the head o’ the offender. I '11 hand ye a’ ower to the tender mercies o’ the law, and put the hoosc under the surveelance o’ Sherra-offishers.” Thus warned they telt me as plain and straight-forward a story as ever cam oot in evidence, from which it wis clear that this person.
