"George Gourlay," said a voice behind him.
"Ay, nae doubt I'm weel kenned."
"You are in the meantime my prisoner," said an officer, with the indispensable blue coat, and the red collar, and the cocked hat.
"For what?" said Geordie.
"Ye'll ken that by and by," replied the officer; "the fiscal will tell ye. Awa' wi' me to the office."
"Humph! for picking a lock," said the blacksmith. "The deil put my left fingers between my hammer and the stiddy when I meddle again wi' rusty padlocks."
"There's naething dune on earth but what is seen," said the man, as with something like a smile on his left cheek, the other retaining its gravity, he held up his finger as if pointing to heaven.
"Ay, ay, there's an e'e there."
"And to break open a house," continued the officer, "is death en the wuddy up yonder at the 'Auld Heart.'"
"But wha, in God's name, is the witness against me?"