“But they may make her a right good lot of trouble.”
“The fact that those fellows are here in Edinburgh would seem to indicate that the Budthornes must be in the city. Perhaps there was some mistake about the hotel where we are to meet them. We must search for them, Brad.”
“That’s the stuff, pard; we’ll turn this old city over, but we’ll find them.”
“Dear me!” said Professor Gunn. “I hope there will be no serious trouble. I do hope we’ll not get into a fight of any sort with those ruffians.”
“But, professor,” smiled Dick, “a short time ago, as you were recalling the fact that we are in the land of Wallace and Bruce, you said you knew there was good fighting stuff in you and you lamented greatly because you had never been given an opportunity to demonstrate what a hero you really are. It is possible you may have an opportunity while we are in Scotland. Who knows? I seem to scent fighting in the crisp air here.”
“Goodness knows that’s not the sort of fighting I meant! I could shed my blood joyfully for my country, or something like that; but fighting of any other sort is low and degrading and I abhor it—I abhor it.”
Upon arriving at their hotel they found a letter there, addressed to Dick.
“A lady’s writing,” said Merriwell, in surprise. “Who can it be?”
He tore the envelope open. A moment later he uttered an exclamation, calling Brad and the professor to read it. This was all the letter contained:
“Dear Mr. Merriwell: We—my brother and myself—are stopping at Ben Cleuch Inn, which is near Kinross on Lochleven. Left Edinburgh suddenly because I saw Miguel Bunol there, and I believe he had followed us. This will explain why we failed to meet you as agreed. Hope you and your friends may be able to join us at Lochleven. We desire very much to see you again, if only to thank you for all your kindnesses to us. My brother is pretty well, although quite nervous. Your grateful friend,
“Nadia Budthorne.”