“And how did this wicked stouthrief happen?” inquired the Earl.
“By the mass, I will tell thee as speedily as may be, my Lord,” replied Rory. “It was but the night before last, that is to say, the night o’ the brenning o’ the Burgh, that it did happen. The haflins lassie that looketh after old Lucky was sent out to bring her tidings o’ the fire. Thee knawest that the poor soul downa easily budge from eild; and as she did lig in her blankets she hearden a heavy foot in the place; and when she got up she did find the kist opened, and the old leathern purse with her money gone.”
“’Tis a hard case, indeed,” said the Earl; “and hast thou any suspicions, Rory?”
“Nay, for a matter o’ that, I hae my own thoughts,” replied Rory; “yet I canna say that I am just sicker anent it; but cannot thou do nought, my noble Yearl?”
“Do thou use all thine ingenuity to find out the thief,” said the Earl; “I shall see what my people may be able to do to aid [[292]]thee; and if we discover the rogue, a court shall be summoned, and he shall straightway hang for his villainy.”
“Thanks, my good Lord,” replied Rory, making his obeisance preparatory to departure; “verily I am much beholden to thee; but an’ we recover not the broad pieces, we shall gain little by the foiterer’s neck being lengthened; yet I’ll see what may be done to catch him.”
“Do so, Rory,” said the Earl; “thou shalt have the aid of some of my people, and I do wish thee success.”
CHAPTER XLII.
The Lovely English Damosel.