“I will tell you why he came there first,” said I. “It was to bring this letter to James More. Why he stops here now that it’s delivered, what it’s likely to be about, why there’s an officer hiding in the bents, and whether or not it’s probable that he’s alone—I would rather you considered for yourself.”
“A letter to James More?” said he.
“The same,” said I.
“Well, and I can tell ye more than that,” said Alan. “For the last night, when you were fast asleep, I heard the man colloguing with some one in the French, and then the door of that inn to be opened and shut.”
“Alan!” cried I, “you slept all night, and I am here to prove it.”
“Ay, but I would never trust Alan whether he was asleep or waking!” says he. “But the business looks bad. Let’s see the letter.”
I gave it him.
“Catriona,” said he, “you have to excuse me, my dear; but there’s nothing less than my fine bones upon the cast of it, and I’ll have to break this seal.”
“It is my wish,” said Catriona.
He opened it, glanced it through, and flung his hand in the air.