Anderson made no objection, but at once handed four half-crowns to the old lady. At that moment he remembered that he must see the printer again before he left Forres, and, as the day, which had threatened to be a wet one, was fine, he left his umbrella with the widow, whose good opinion the payment in advance of one moiety of the week’s rent had quite secured. But, unfortunately, the widow read the words, Great Wizard of the North, on the handle of the umbrella when Anderson had left her; and he observed, on his return, that she trembled and changed color as she regarded him intently from head to foot, without venturing to approach him.
“Save us!” she faintly ejaculated. “Wha are ye?”
“I am a rather notorious character,” Anderson replied, with a smile, “and I have no doubt, although you have never seen me before, that you have heard of me. My name is Anderson, and I am known as the Wizard of the North.”
“A weezard, are ye?” said the affrighted widow. “Then, for the love o’ guideness, gang oot o’ my house! I wadna lodge ye for ae night under my roof nae for a’ the world. For the love o’ heaven, gang awa, and tak your umbrella alang wi’ ye.”
As the Elgin coach was shortly to pass the house, Anderson did not pause to explain or remonstrate, but stepped at once toward the door, when the widow cried, “Stap! Dinna leave ought belanging to ye wi’ me; tak your siller wi’ ye, and never let me see your face again.”
Hastily taking the four half-crowns from her purse, she threw them upon the floor, screaming that they burned her fingers, and immediately fell back in a swoon of terror. In her fall, her head struck a stool, slightly lacerating her cheek; and on several of the neighbors hurrying in, on hearing her scream and fall, they found her bleeding, and apparently lifeless. The women cried out that the stranger had murdered the widow, and the men seized Anderson’s arms, to prevent his escape.
At that moment the coach was driven up, and the driver, seeing a crowd about the widow’s house, pulled up, and inquired the cause of the commotion.
On being told that a murder had been committed, the guard leaped down, and, looking through the window, recognized Anderson, whom he had seen several times in Elgin. The coach started again, and Anderson, finding he was in an awkward position, as the old lady gave no signs of life, demanded to be taken before a magistrate at once. This, he was told, was impossible, as there was no magistrate within seven miles, and all that could be done was to lodge him in the town jail until the next day.
To the jail the conjuror was taken, therefore, between a couple of constables, who were commendably prompt in making their appearance. The coach went on to Elgin, where the guard lost no time in spreading the news of the wizard’s arrest, and, going to the Assembly Rooms, told the audience, who were just growing impatient at the conjuror’s non-appearance, that “they might conjure for themselves that night, for there would be no wizard, as he was where he would not get out with all his magic; he was in Forres jail, for murdering an old woman.” A thrill of horror ran through the crowded auditory; then a murmur arose, and loud demands were made for the return of the money paid at the doors. This was done; and nothing was talked of at Elgin that night but the horrible murder at Forres.
On the following morning, Anderson was conducted to the residence of the magistrate, where the widow, who had recovered in the course of the night, told as much of the tragi-comical story as she knew. The gentleman who administered justice in that remote district smiled at the old lady’s narrative, reproved the witnesses for their hastiness, and at once discharged Anderson, with an expression of regret for the inconvenience and loss to which his detention had subjected him. The news of the dénouement of the affair reached Elgin as soon as Anderson, for whom it proved an excellent advertisement, bringing crowds to the Assembly Rooms, and inducing him to prolong his stay in that town several nights beyond the term he had intended.