CHAPTER XVIII
AN INNOCENT BETRAYAL
Viscount Stair listened with an amused smile to the heavy footsteps pacing about overhead; he drew himself closer over the fire and surveyed his lean fingers with eyes twinkling unpleasantly. His son was evidently in an ill-humor; his restlessness had followed on a message from my Lord Breadalbane; something was amiss in Scotland.
So the Viscount concluded; he made no attempt to discover what had occurred, but waited patiently, hugging his amusement, confident that his son would not leave him long out of his councils. And even sooner than he had expected the door was flung open and Sir John entered, stormy and frowning.
“Ill news from Scotland?” asked the Viscount indifferently.
His son gave him a look.
“The Macdonalds have taken the oaths,” he answered briefly.
“Ah—more prudence among these savages than one might have expected,” remarked the Viscount.
“Their prudence will not avail!” cried Sir John.
“They did not come in till the sixth of January.”
“How ill-considered!” said the Viscount.