"Not a hair the worse. But this I know, that if ever I am caught again on such idiotical errand as hunting for a young woman through the Highlands, my nearest of kin are at perfect liberty to have me cognosced without opposition."
"Ah—you are no lover, Anthony. Strachan, now, would go barefooted through Stony Arabia for the mere chance of a casual glimpse at his mistress."
"All I can say, my dear fellow, is, that if connubial happiness cannot be purchased without a month's twangling on a guitar and three consecutive suppers upon seaweed, I know at least one respectable young barrister who is likely to die unmarried. But I say, Fred, let us have a coach and drive up to your hotel. You can lend me a coat, I suppose, or something of the sort, until Strachan arrives; and just be good enough, will you, to settle with Mrs M'Tavish for the bill, for, by all my hopes of a sheriffship, I have been thoroughly purged of my tin."
The matter may not be of any especial interest to the public; at the same time I think it right to record the fact that Anthony Whaup owes me seven shillings and eightpence unto this day.
[CHAPTER V.]
"That is all I can tell you about it," said Mr Hedger, as he handed me the last of three indictments, with the joyful accompaniment of the fees. "That is all I can tell you about it. If the alibi will hold water, good and well—if not, M'Closkie will be transported."
Hedger is the very best criminal agent I ever met with. There is always a point in his cases—his precognitions are perfect, and pleading, under such auspices, becomes a kind of realised romance.
"By the way," said he, "is there a Mr Strachan of your bar at circuit? I have a curious communication from a prisoner who is desirous to have him as her counsel."
"Indeed! I am glad to hear it. Mr Strachan is a particular friend of mine, and will be here immediately. I shall be glad to introduce you. Is it a heavy case?"