He knew very well that her words were true. “Thank you, mistress,” he said with a sudden smile. “But I must go home—and quickly. I should never have left the house—I did not guess at this.”
“Why, Lord Stair? Why must ye gang hame?”
“Because of the Countess: she is alone. Thank you again, mistress.”
He lifted his hat for a second and then turned rapidly down the street.
So it had come to this: often had he been face to face with popular wrath; often had he dared and flouted the whole of Scotland and now the crash had come. He glanced down at the people he rode through and his soul shook to think that he should have come to be at their mercy. His mansion was in complete darkness as he rode into the courtyard; it was with a sense of relief that he noticed the empty streets before it, the mob had not gathered yet.
No servant came forward to take his horse; he left the tired animal and entered the house.
One of the footmen stood in the hall, looking pale and frightened.
“Are you the only one?” said Lord Stair.
The man assented in a cowed manner.
“Melville—has Melville gone?”