On this important point, Borthwick dared not reply, and they could hear his teeth chattering.
"Where is there a leech?" asked the ex-governor of Stirling.
"There is none nearer than Perth,—at least none that I wot of."
"How, Ninian the barber-chirurgeon in the Speygate?"
"The same; and he is too far off to be available," said Borthwick.
"He is the only one on the south side of Tay, except the Highland seers and crones," said Shaw, loosening his dagger in its sheath of velvet.
"Ah," continued Gray, conversing in the assumed tone of ease, to throw their intended victim off his guard; "did he not nearly slay the Lord Angus by piercing him too deep with his phlebotemus?"
"Missing the vein and cutting the artery,—a very fool."
"For which, if he had failed to stop it, the Master of Angus would have hung him over his own stair-head. He knoweth the signs and stars," continued this cold-blooded ruffian, looking casually, as it were, over the bridge to measure the height by his cold and stern eye; "but who save asses employ him, Master Borthwick?"
"Oh, many," continued Shaw, laughing, as they drew nearer their victim; "husbands, to have doses for scolding wives, and expectant heirs whose purses are empty, for old and doting uncles; in short, anyone who wishes to be rid of anyone else; for he enjoys pretty much the reputation of your friend the apothecary at—how name you the place—oh yes, Bucklersbury, in London, ha! ha! is it not so, Master Borthwick?"