"Nothing," was the blunt reply; "that is, personally I seek nothing of such fellows as thee; but the right honourable my very good lord and chief requires your presence in his chamber, here, without delay."
Borthwick still kept a hand upon his poniard, as he scanned the speaker's sunburned face.
"And who are you?" he asked, after a pause.
"One of the Hepburns—Adam of the Black Castle."
"Then your chief is the Lord Hailes?"
"I have just had the honour of hinting as much," replied the other, with an irony which Borthwick dared not resent.
"Lead on, then, laird; I follow you," he said; and then they ascended another of the turnpike stairs with which this hostel was furnished.
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE GUNNER.
"They sin who tell us Love can die;
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but nonity."—Southey.