"Who knows," he said thoughtfully, "but a little playful threatening might not win our purpose, just a pistol waving carelessly in the hand, and a claymore at the side, the iron hand under the velvet glove, madam—ye take me?"
"I'll take ye right enough," said Miss Macpherson, "if Rob's life depends on us two, there'll be no shirking."
"If only my heart were in the work," sighed the major pensively, "I would not care a bawbee for the Duke or ony body. Could you not get in touch with Muckle John, the Duke is feared of him belike..."
"My man," broke in Miss Macpherson, "you are slow in the uptake, you are to be Muckle John."
He raised his head at that in a speechless tragedy of silence.
"Me?" he whispered. "Me Muckle John—oh, what is this nonsense you propose?"
"I have not decided upon it at random," she replied, "and it seems practicable. I have some knowledge of the Duke's habits, and let us but once get him alone and we will force him to sign a pardon for Rob. He goes south soon, so we must act at once. You, Castleleathers, must wrap yersel' up in a plaid to your nose and when we find him by himsel' you shall threaten his life."
"But you—where will you be?"
"I shall be watching ye—never fear—meet me to-morrow and we'll journey south. The final plans I'll devise, and dinna fail me or I'll tell the Duke how ye knew Lovat himsel', and they'll take ye to London as a witness."
"No, no," cried the major in a panic of fright, "I will be there never fear, but it's like I'll see London in a very different capacity."