CHAPTER XLI
IN THE HANDS OF THE PERSECUTORS
I reined in the impulse that seized me to spring forward and attempt a rescue. That way lay madness, and the failure of all hope to effect my purpose. If I adventured it I knew that I should be shot down like a dog and that Mary would go to her fate unsuccoured. Wisdom lay in waiting to see how events would shape themselves. If, at the last, I found that Mary was being taken to Christie's Mount to be martyred on one of the gibbets there, then I should not stand quietly by and see a merciless vengeance wreak itself upon her. If I could not rescue her, I should die with her.
I mixed with the crowd again and was borne onward as it surged up the Vennel. In the press I was thrust so near to Mary that, had I stretched out my hand, I could have touched her, and though my eyes sought her face and feasted upon it, I tore myself away lest she should see me and in a moment of recognition betray us both. The cavalcade breasted the hill up to the High Street and as we went the crowd grew as every shop door added its unit. Here and there a high window was thrown open suddenly and the head of a man or woman would appear, with eyes downcast, to see what was going on in the street below. More than once I heard a word of pity fall from unseen lips.
The company swung into the High Street. Eager new-comers thrust themselves forward and broke the line of my vision so that it was difficult to keep Mary in sight, but I watched for the aureole of gold set among her chestnut hair, and seeing it my heart beat high again.
By and by we came to the Tolbooth and the cavalcade halted. There was a loud knocking at the door which, in a moment, was thrown wide open, and two of the dragoons rode in with Mary between them. Then the door was shut in our faces. The crowd hung uncertain for a little space, then it began to disperse slowly till only a handful of curious idlers was left gazing vacantly at the prison. Of them I was one, but though my body was idle my mind was working at fever heat. Mary was in the Tolbooth! That meant, at the very least, that no immediate travesty of justice was to be perpetrated upon her. Perhaps, like the women at Wigtown, she would be given a trial, and it might come to pass that she would be found blameless and set free.
As though in answer to this thought the great oaken door swung open again. With eyes almost starting from their sockets, I watched to see her come forth. But no; my hopes that had been soaring in the sky crashed headlong to the earth. The dragoons that had led her in rode forth and the door closed behind them. The company formed up and set out for its quarters and I was left gazing at the door as though a spell were upon me. Suddenly it flashed upon me that to stand there with eyes riveted upon the Tolbooth was to draw attention to myself; so I turned slowly away and walked, as though I were a casual wayfarer, down the High Street again. By the time I had reached the head of the Vennel my mind was set. Mary must be saved. I should rescue her or perish in the attempt. A hive of schemes swarmed in my brain, and my mind was perplexed and divided. Then I thought of Hector. He, if anyone, could aid me: but time was precious and where could I find him? Then I remembered Phemie McBride, and quickening my pace I hurried down the Vennel. Near the Vennel Port a crowd was assembled and when I came to the edge of it I found that my way was blocked by the press of the people. As I stood waiting for a break through which to worm myself, I overheard two boys talking together on its outskirts:
"Ay, I'm tellin' ye, I ha'e juist seen a man shot."
"Get awa'!"
"Ay."