*****
Mr. Arthur Townshend was expected about seven o'clock, and Elizabeth had planned everything for his reception. Buff would be in bed, and Thomas and Billy under the shelter of their own roof-tree. The house would be tidy and quiet, the fires at their best. She herself would be dressed early and ready to receive him.
But it happened otherwise.
Elizabeth, a book in hand, was sunk in a large arm-chair, a boy on each of the chair-arms and one on the rug. It was getting dark, but the tale was too breathless to stop for lights; besides, the fire was bright and she held the book so that the fire-light fell on the page.
"Over the rock with them!" cried the Brigand Chief; and the men stepped forward to obey his orders.
"Oow!" squealed Billy in his excitement.
"Mr. Townshend," announced Ellen.
No one had heard the sounds of his arrival. Elizabeth rose hastily, sending Buff and Billy to the floor, her eyes dazed with fire-light, her mind still in the Robbers' Cave.
"But the train isn't in yet," was her none too hospitable greeting.
"I must apologise," said the new-comer. "I came North last night to catch a man in Edinburgh—his ship was just leaving the Forth. I ought to have let you know, but I forgot to wire until it was too late. I'm afraid I'm frightfully casual. I hope you don't mind me walking in like this?"