“Peggy,” said Mrs M‘Leod in a whisper, which I heard very well, “I ha’e come for yon.”
“Yon!” muttered I to myself; strange Scotch word—something like the mysterious “it,” when applied to a ghost.
“Weel!” replied the girl, “come in.”
We both entered, and were led along a dark passage till we came to a bedroom—no doubt that of the young woman. We entered it, and the servant, who seemed to be struck with the sympathy of our silence, proceeded to open a blue trunk, from which she took out a small bundle, composed of a roll of a red handkerchief.
“There it is,” said she, as she put it into the hands of Mrs M‘Leod.
We then left the room, returning again to the kitchen, from which we proceeded into the area.
“There’s the siller,” said she, as she put the bundle into my hands.
I took the parcel and placed it in my pocket. We mounted the stair, and Mrs M‘Leod left me. It is needless to say that I could not restrain my curiosity; nor did I try. I went down towards Princes Street Gardens, and seating myself on the parapet, proceeded to undo the red handkerchief. I found within a large bundle of banknotes, composed of tens and fives, and upon counting them found the amount to be £180. Now I fairly admit I was not satisfied. I wanted something more; and tying up my bundle I repaired again to Rose Street.
“Mrs M‘Leod,” said I, as I entered, “it will be necessary that you mark these notes for me. My masters, the authorities, will not believe I got them from you unless I get your name to them. Have you pen and ink?”
“Ay,” said she, “but I daurna mark them, Donald would be angry.”