“But it’s high time I was clear of these empty bents!” said Alan; and continued his way at top speed, and we still following, to the back-door of Bazin’s inn.
It chanced that as we entered by the one door we came face to face with James More entering by the other.
“Here!” said I to Catriona, “quick! upstairs with you and make your packets; this is no fit scene for you.”
In the meanwhile James and Alan had met in the midst of the long room. She passed them close by to reach the stairs; and after she was some way up I saw her turn and glance at them again, though without pausing. Indeed, they were worth looking at. Alan wore as they met one of his best appearances of courtesy and friendliness, yet with something eminently warlike, so that James smelled danger off the man, as folk smell fire in a house, and stood prepared for accidents.
Time pressed. Alan’s situation in that solitary place, and his enemies about him, might have daunted Cæsar. It made no change in him; and it was in his old spirit of mockery and daffing that he began the interview.
“A braw good day to ye again, Mr. Drummond,” said he. “What’ll yon business of yours be just about?”
“Why, the thing being private, and rather of a long story,” says James, “I think it will keep very well till we have eaten.”
“I’m none so sure of that,” said Alan. “It sticks in my mind it’s either now or never; for the fact is me and Mr. Balfour here have gotten a line, and we’re thinking of the road.”
I saw a little surprise in James’s eye; but he held himself stoutly.
“I have but the one word to say to cure you of that,” said he, “and that is the name of my business.”