"That is a strange story," the old gentleman remarked, looking searchingly into Elsie's face. He then asked her a great many questions about it, as if he hardly believed what she had told him, but Elsie persisted in her statements.
"Did you hear the name of the man who kept the shop?" he asked.
Elsie thought a moment. "Mrs. Donaldson told Meg to tell Andrew to write, and let us know how Duncan was. I don't know if she meant him."
"Ah! and who was Meg?"
Elsie felt ready to cry with vexation. "She came in the carriage to carry Duncan," she replied quickly. "I think she was a servant."
"Now, can you describe this house into which you were taken?"
Elsie drew quite a breath of relief to think she had escaped so well. "We had to go down a lot of steps before we got to it," she replied, "and I remember there was a flesher next door."
"You mean a butcher, and the house was a very high one, and the man's name, you think, was Andrew. Well, that is very good as far as it goes. Did you pass the Tolbooth in driving to the station?"
"I don't know. I shouldn't have known it if I had."
"Well, well, it seems you cannot tell us much about this house. The servant's name you say was Meg, and she had your brother when you last saw him. Where do you think he is now?"