"This Mackenzie," whispered Miss Macpherson, "is like to be the end of Rob I'm thinking. It is evident that he has suffered at the hands of Muckle John...."
"And means mischief," added Castleleathers.
In the room down the passage the snores of the Duke rolled peacefully on.
Miss Macpherson paused, turning the matter over in her practical mind.
"Have you ever seen this Neil Mackenzie?" she asked at last.
He shook his head.
"I never had dealings with Mackenzies," he replied.
"Then why not take his place, my man? The Duke canna tell one tartan from another. Hear what he has to say. Tell him your people are mortally offended with Muckle John."
"But what of Mackenzie himself?"
Her face hardened.