"Ah, how can I, when I am quaking like a jelly with my terror?"
"You should not undertake dangerous crimes unless you possess heroic courage," said the viscount.
"Mon Dieu! it is you who will ruin us!" cried Faustina, stamping her small feet and pointing to Mrs. MacDonald.
The viscount laughed.
And at this moment old Cuthbert re-entered the room.
"Well?" asked Lord Vincent.
"If you please, me laird, they say they maun see yer lairdship's sel' and the leddy," said the old man.
"What the blazes do they want with us? Was ever anything so insolently persistent? Go and tell the fellows that I cannot and will not see them to-night! And if they are disappointed it will serve them right for coming out on such a night as this, They must have been mad!"
"Verra weel, me laird. I'll tell them," said the old man, departing.
"Compose yourself, Faustina, this business has no reference to you, I assure you. When they asked for us, they merely wished to see us to put some questions about the case of Ailsie Dunbar," said the viscount, who had not the slightest suspicion that there was, or could be, a warrant out for his arrest. He fancied himself entirely secure in his crimes. He believed the negroes to be safe beyond the sea; sold into slavery in a land of which they did not even understand the language, and from which they never would be allowed to return. He believed Claudia to be crushed under the conspiracy he had formed against her. He believed her father to be far away. And so he considered himself safe from all interruptions of his iniquities. What was there, in fact, to arouse his fears? What had he to dread?