"Would I could have taken him," he said bitterly.
"Your chance vill come, Strange. Ze net is closing. Soon ve vill 'ave ze Pretender, and zen all ze smaller fry vill be caught too—" he yawned and pushed back his chair—"I am sick to death of zis country," he said; "it is always rain, rain, rain, and nosings to eat or drink."
And so Strange left him looking gloomily out of the window upon the black Highland hills.
CHAPTER XIII
MISS MACPHERSON COMES TO FORT AUGUSTUS
Dawn found Rob watching at the window. Into the night his eyes had stared until the cold wind before the grey light of day fell upon his face. Vast forms moved dimly into sight. Hills stood up gradually against the ashen sky. Trees formed in vague, black columns, with their trunks half hidden in mist.
Suddenly a faint, pink glow flushed the pearly grey with colour, and in an instant the valley grew distinct. The sun rose and sent the dew glistening like a thousand twinkling diamonds, then, passing higher, flooded the Fort with yellow light, and threw the black shadow of the gallows-tree upon the ground.
With a sigh, Rob turned and seated himself upon his bed, waiting for the end.
But hours passed and no one came. He heard the sharp words of command from the drilling-square below, and the grounding of arms as the soldiers stood at attention. Outside, a man whistled cheerfully, and that reminded him of Muckle John. Surely he would not desert him! Did he not pride himself on always finding a way? Rob remembered, with a wry smile, that the only way he had found two days before had been for himself. He took to wondering what Cameron would say when he heard (if he should ever hear, which was not so likely) how ill his joke had treated his messenger. He took a doleful satisfaction in imagining him greatly disturbed at having sent him to his death.
At that moment footsteps sounded along the corridor, and the key of the door was turned.