Then as I journeyed south I saw my work set out like a perspective before me. As the minister had said, the treasure of Kelwood and the death of my master hung by one string. The House of the Red Moss was very near to the sandhills of Ayr, and there could be little doubt that the hand which had sped the bloody dagger was the hand that had brought my master to his death.
As the drawbridge clanged down for me to ride once more within the house of Culzean, and lazy Gib stretched himself to cry that all was well, I took a resolve. It was to tell Helen Kennedy all that I knew, and ask her judgment upon it—though I have small notion (for ordinary) of women's discretion. So, when the greetings were said, I took my opportunity and came to her when she was walking in the garden apart, where the apple trees grow. When she had heard all, she said, 'Launce, you and I must ride to Auchendrayne.'
'Well,' said I, 'and what then? Shall we bid Grieve Allison have our coffins in readiness against our return feet first?'
'We shall see my sister Marjorie,' she said, without heeding my words, 'and take counsel with her. They will not kill us within the house of Auchendrayne while she is alive.'
'I believe not that we shall even have the chance of speech with her,' I replied, 'but we may at least go and see. Whether we ever win back to Culzean is another matter.'
But Nell was mainly set on it, and I did not counter her, it being so that I was to ride in her company—for, indeed, I myself desired greatly to see the famous tower where dwelled a man so potent and so evil. The next day it happened that I went to Maybole and found mine ancient friend, Robert Mure, Dominie and Session Clerk of the town. He sat gloomily in his school and bowed his head on his hands, for he had never looked up nor taken pleasure in life since they laid my master in the burying-place of his folk within the kirkyaird of Maybole. The school hummed about him, but he took little heed. His old alertness seemed quite gone from him. And when I came in he only lifted his head a moment and nodded, falling back again at once into his new melancholy. His pipes lay beside him indeed, but so long as I was there I did not see him recreate himself upon them—as had been his ordinary wont, playing pibrochs for his scholars' delectation at every pause in the day's occupations.
'Dominie,' said I, 'there is one thing I want—'
'Say on,' said he, briefly, not looking at me.
'I want speech with William Dalrymple, the lad that carried the letter to Auchendrayne the day before my lord's death.'
'Of what good is the like of that?' said he. 'Will all the speech in the world bring back him that's gane?'