“Nay,” replied the Lord of Curgarf, “thou shalt have full justice. We shall hear thee anon. But let this youth finish his narrative, which would seem to be pregnant with strange and horrible things.”
“I have but little more to say,” continued the youth. “Gratitude to Sir Patrick Stewart, for having spared my life, when his own security might have required the taking of it, at once resolved me against betraying him to slaughter. Ewan Cameron marched us straight away to the hill, which rises above the track that leads from the little place of Tomantoul to the river Don, and there he kept us sitting, for some time, watching, till we espied three men coming along the way. Whilst they were yet afar off I knew one of them to be the very person whom the murderers were in search of. ‘Is that Sir Patrick Stewart that comes first yonder?’ demanded Ewan.—‘I cannot tell at this distance,’ said I; ‘but I think the man I saw in the cave was much taller than that man.’—‘That is a tall man,’ said Ewan; ‘take care what thou sayest, or thou mayest chance to have thy stature curtailed by the whole head.’—‘I say what is true,’ said I; ‘no man could know his own father at that distance.’—‘Then will I assert that thou sayest that which is a lie,’ said one of the party; ‘for great as the distance may be, I know that to be Sir Patrick Stewart. I mean that man who comes first of the three.’—‘Let us down upon him without loss of time then,’ cried Ewan; ‘and do you come along, Sirrah! Thou shalt along with us; and, when our work is done, we shall see whether we cannot find the means of refreshing thy memory.’ Having uttered these words, Ewan hurried us all down to the covert of a small patch of stunted pines, that grew on the flat ground below. There we lay in ambush till Sir Patrick Stewart, and his two attendants, came within bowshot, and there, as is already known to most here, the six assassins were speedily punished for their wicked attempt, and I became Sir Patrick Stewart’s prisoner.”
“Now,” said the Lord of Curgarf, addressing himself to Murdoch, “what hast thou to say in answer to all this?—What hast thou to answer for thyself?”
“I say that the young caitiff is a foul liar!” cried Murdoch violently. “He is a foul liar, who hath been taught a false tale, to bear me down.”
“He may be a liar,” said the Lord of Curgarf; “but his story hangs marvellously well together.”
“Who would dare to condemn me on his unsupported testimony?” demanded Murdoch, boldly.
“Here is one who is ready to support his tale,” said Michael Forbes, pressing forward, and pushing before him a strange looking little man, with a long red beard, and a head of hair so untamed, that it hung over his sharp sallow features in such a manner, as, for some moments, to render it difficult for Sir Patrick Stewart to recognise in him, the man whom he had saved from his perilous position in the salmon creel, at the Lynn of Aven.
“Ha!—Grigor Beg!” cried Murdoch Stewart, betrayed by his surprise, at beholding him; “What a fiend hath brought thee hither?—But thou—thou can’st say nothing against me.”
“I fear I can say nothing for thee, Murdoch Stewart,” said the little man, darting a pair of piercing eyes towards him, from amidst the tangled thickets of his hair. “Nor is it needful for me now to say all I might against thee. But here, as I understand, thou hast basely and falsely accused thy brother Sir Patrick Stewart of murdering his elder brother Sir Walter. Now, I saw Ewan Cameron shoot down Sir Walter Stewart with an arrow; and it was done at thy bidding too, for I was by, on the hill-side, when thou didst give to Ewan Cameron his secret order to slay thy brother, and when thou didst teach him to do the deed, as if it were an idle act, done against a stranger.”
“Lies!—lies!—a very net-work of lies, in which to ensnare me!” cried Murdoch. “But who can condemn me for another’s death, who, for aught that we know truly, may yet appear alive and well?”