“Not assassins!” cried they. “We are not assassins, Inverawe. We crave your pardon for this apparently rude intrusion, but we are in pursuit of an assassin. We come to look for a man who has murdered another. Have we your permission to search for him?”
“Certainly,” said Inverawe, “wherever you please.”
“He cannot be here,” said one of the men. “I told you that he could not be here. Don’t you see plainly that he could not have come in here without awaking Inverawe. We lose time here. We had better on after our friends.”
“Depend on’t he has run up Loch Etive side,” said another of them.
“What are all these wet foot-steps on the floor?” said the first of them that spoke. “He might have been here without Inverawe’s knowledge.”
“Don’t you see that Inverawe has had a feast, and that wine, and water, and whisky too, have been flowing in gallons in all directions?” said the second man. “See there is a large pool of lost liquor. I verily believe that some of these footsteps are my own, made this moment, by walking accidentally through it. I tell you he never could have come here.”
“It is true that I have had a feast,” said Inverawe, carelessly, “as you may see from the wrecks of it that still remain on the table.”
“I told you so,” said the second man. “We only lose time here. If you had only been guided by my counsel we might have been hard at his heels by this time, as well as the rest.”
“Haste, then, let us go!” said the first man.
“Away! away!” cried his companions, and, without waiting for farther parley, they rushed out of the hall, and Inverawe heard with some satisfaction, their footsteps hurrying down stairs, and the shouts which they yelled forth after their companions, growing fainter and fainter, until they were altogether lost in the direction of Loch Etive.