"Well, well, you are my officer, you know, and if any thing is wrong"———
"I'll take the blame," said Inglis. "Come, another pot of ale, and let us to Tillietudlem.—Here, blind Bess! where the devil has the old hag, crept to?"
"Delay them as long as you can," whispered Morton, as he thrust his purse into the hostess's hand, "all depends on gaining time."
Then, walking swiftly to the place where the girl held his horse ready, "To Fairyknowe?—no; alone I could not protect them.—I must instantly to Glasgow. Wittenbold, the commandant there, will readily give me the support of a troop, and procure me the countenance of the civil power. I must drop a caution as I pass. Come, Moorkopf," he said, addressing his horse as he mounted him,—"this day must try your breath and speed."
