I made him a sign that his clerk was within hearing.
“Hoot, ye needna mind for Robbie,” cries he. “A Stewart too, puir deevil! and has smuggled out more French recruits and trafficking Papists than what he has hairs upon his face. Why, it’s Robin that manages that branch of my affairs.—Who will we have now, Rob, for across the water?”
“There’ll be Andie Scougal, in the Thristle,” replied Rob. “I saw Hoseason the other day, but it seems he’s wanting the ship. Then there’ll be Tam Stobo; but I’m none so sure of Tam. I’ve seen him colloguing with some gey queer acquaintances; and if it was anybody important, I would give Tam the go-by.”
“The head’s worth two hundred pounds, Robin,” said Stewart.
“Gosh, that’ll no’ be Alan Breck?” cried the clerk.
“Just Alan,” said his master.
“Weary winds! that’s sayrious,” cried Robin. “I’ll try Andie, then; Andie’ll be the best.”
“It seems it’s quite a big business,” I observed.
“Mr. Balfour, there’s no end to it,” said Stewart.