"I think sae mysel," said Carey; "but we'll see." And he rose and seized, in an instant, a ladder used by Cubby, for the purpose of mounting to his Golgotha.
"Hauld, sir!" cried the frantic Cubby, as he flew and seized Carey by the legs, falling at the same time on his knees, and turning up his grey eyes, now, like his own owl's, darting forth fire. "What is this ye're aboot? Wha are ye? What ken ye o' thae dark things?—I mean there is naething there. Hauld, sir! or ye'll kill an auld man wha micht be yer faither." And he fell on the floor, groaning and rolling about, like one in a convulsion.
"I will lay down this ladder," said Carey, "if you will rise, an' sit down, an' speak to me on certain subjects that concern me an' you."
"I will, I will," replied Cubby, recovering slightly; "I'll sit quietly an' hear ye speak o' onything but thae village gossips. Nae lamb will be mair peaceable; an'—an' ye'll hae something, too—to tak wi' ye when ye gae awa."
"Ye mean ane o' yer three guid farthins, I suppose?" said Carey, with a smile.
"Ay, I'll mak it a gowd guinea," said the other, with an effort like to choke him.
"Weel, let that alane," said Carey; "we'll maybe mak it mair. Ye now see that I ken a' the secret that lies i' that garret. I hae seen it wi' my ain een, an heard it frae yer dochter, wha is noo my lawfu married wife—a guid match to her, seein I am the third son o' William Cuthbert o' Cubbertscroft."
"My dochter married to ane o' the Cubberts o' Cubbertscroft!" ejaculated Cubby. "Then hae the twa stocks at last joined? Heaven be praised!"
"It is clear, then," continued Carey, "that you are completely in my power. On going to Gilbert Sleuthie, the fiscal o' the county, an' layin my statement afore him, his first step will be to seize the banes an' the gowd. Ye will be tried for the murder o' the unhappy beings whase bodies they ance supported; an', whether ye be guilty or innocent, ye'll hae some difficulty o' gettin oot o' the hands o' the law the fifteen thousand guineas I saw ye count wi' my ain een; an', even were ye to get it back, it will spread throughout the country that Cubby Grindstane has £15,000, an' a' the stouthrievers o' the country will be on ye like bluidhounds, to ease ye o' the burden o' keepin't."
"But ye'll no gang to Gilbert Sleuthie, the fiscal?" cried Cubby, rising again into one of his paroxysms of terror, and seizing Carey by the knees. "It's no in the heart o' ane wi' that face o' yours to ruin a puir auld man wha you say is your faither-in-law. I ken ye winna do't. The guinea I'll mak twa, an' maybe a half mair. Say ye winua gang an' I'll mak it three. Mercy! mercy!"