"Yes, yes," murmured the duke to himself.
"And now, will your grace please to have a room? And what will your grace please to have for breakfast?" inquired the landlord, remembering his duty, and again bowing to the ground.
"You may show me to a bed-room, where I may get rid of this railway dust, and—for breakfast, anything you please, so that it is quickly prepared. Also, landlord, have a chaise at the door, with a good pair of horses. I must start for Banff within half an hour," said the traveller.
"Save us and sain us! Your grace, also! A' the warld seem ganging to Banff!" cried honest Donald Duncan.
"I am summoned there as a witness on the trial, landlord."
"Ay, to be sure. Sae your grace maun be. For it is weel kenned that your grace was amung the first to discover the dead body of the murthered man, Heaven rest him! And noo, your grace, I will show ye till your room," said the landlord, leading the way to a neat bedchamber on the same floor.
"Be good enough to send my servant here with my luggage," said the duke.
The landlord bowed and went out to deliver the message.
And in another minute the valet entered the room with the valise, dressing-case, and so forth.
The duke made a rapid morning toilet, and then returned to the parlor, where the little breakfast table was already laid—coffee, rolls, oat-meal cake, broiled haddock, broiled black cock, and Dundee marmalade, formed the bill of fare.