"As ye please, sir—your honour's will be done. Our guests are now, even as the visits of angels, unco few and far between; and thus, when one comes, we are loath to part with him. There is a deep pitfall, and an ugly gulleyhole where the burn crosses the road at the town-head, and if ye miss the path, the rocks by the beach are steep, and in a night like this——"
"Host of mine," laughed the traveller, "I know right well every rood of the way, and by keeping to the left near the Auldlees may avoid both the blackpit and the sea-beach."
"Your honour kens the country hereawa, then?" said Spiggot with surprise.
"Of old, perhaps, I knew it as well as thee."
The gudeman of the Thane scrutinised the traveller's face keenly, but failed to recognise him, and until this moment, he thought that no man in the East Neuk was unknown to him; but here his inspection was at fault.
"And hast thou no visitors with thee now, friend host?" he asked of Spiggot.
"One only, gude sir, who came here on a brown horse about nightfall. He is an unco' foreign-looking man, but has been asking the way to the castle o' Balcomie."
"Ha! and thou didst tell of this plaguey pitfall, I warrant."
"Assuredly, your honour, in kindness I did but hint of it."
"And thereupon he stayed. Balcomie—indeed! and what manner of man is he?"