"Preserve us, this is awfu!" said Jamie. "Waur a great deal than the droonin business. What the deevil tempted me to speak such nonsense? But wha could hae thocht this wad hae come o't? A bit harmless piece o' falderal. Yon twa maun hae been a pair o' infernal scoundrels—that's clear; and as clear is it that I'm in a most wickedly-awkward situation. I maun, I suppose, either submit to be hanged peaceably, or confess that I hae been tellin a most unconscionable lee—no a very pleasant alternative; but the last's better than the first, I reckon."
Jamie's communings were at this time interrupted by the entrance of the jailer, who came to see that all was right for the night.
"Man," said Jamie, addressing him, and trying to smile graciously, in order to propitiate his good-will, "this is a queer business."
"I rather think you'll find it so," replied the jailer, coolly, and unaffected by Jamie's soothing advances. "Both a queer business, and a serious one."
"It was a' a joke, man," said Jamie.
"Perhaps so," said the jailer; "but, like many other jokes, you may chance to find it attended with rather awkward consequences." And, without saying more, the man banged to the door with a violence that made the long passage on which it opened ring with an iron sound, and left Jamie to find what repose he might.
"The fallow'll no believe me," he said, on being again left to himself, "nae mair than if he kent me."
On the following morning, Jamie was conducted in procession, by three or four criminal officers, into the presence of the Procurator-Fiscal, when a precognition on his case immediately ensued.
"Well, sir," said the latter, at the same time referring to a paper which lay on his desk before him, "so you have taken up arms against the government."
"Naething o' the kind, my lord, I assure you," said Jamie.