He made no reply, for their ghastly merriment chilled him.
"Such a leech will not do for the daughters of the Lord Drummond," resumed Shaw; "but the night wears apace."
"Let us part then, Sir Hew!" said Gray, and at the same moment both their daggers clashed together in the breast of Borthwick, whose hot blood spirted horribly through his pyne doublet, over the hilts, and over their fingers.
The first blows failed to kill him, and he sank heavily against the parapet of the bridge.
"Mercy," he sighed; "mercy—God—mercy!"
"Such mercy as thou gavest King James," replied the villains as an apology to themselves, while they buried their poniards again and again in his heart, with a heavy and awful sound.
"'Tis but an act of self-defence, this!" said Gray.
"True—true—of course it is—he might have destroyed us, else," added Shaw, in a breathless voice.
"He is gone now—so over with him!" replied the other.
Lifting the heavy, and yet warm body of the regicide, they shot it over the steep bridge into the rapid stream below, where it fell with a loud splash. As it was swept down the current, they sprang upon their horses, which were haltered under the boortrees.