CHAPTER XII. ANDREW AT LAST.
Having at length persuaded the woman to go with him, Falconer made her take his arm, and led her off the bridge. In Parliament Street he was looking about for a cab as they walked on, when a man he did not know, stopped, touched his hat, and addressed him.
'I'm thinkin', sir, ye'll be sair wantit at hame the nicht. It wad be better to gang at ance, an' lat the puir fowk luik efter themsels for ae nicht.'
'I'm sorry I dinna ken ye, man. Do ye ken me?'
'Fine that, Mr. Falconer. There's mony ane kens you and praises God.'
'God be praised!' returned Falconer. 'Why am I wanted at home?'
''Deed I wad raither not say, sir.—Hey!'
This last exclamation was addressed to a cab just disappearing down King Street from Whitehall. The driver heard, turned, and in a moment more was by their side.
'Ye had better gang into her an' awa' hame, and lea' the poor lassie to me. I'll tak guid care o' her.'