“You’ve grown weather-wise since you left Edinburgh, David.”
“I had other matters to think upon there,” answered Balnillo, with some pomp.
James smiled faintly, making the little twist in his lip more apparent.
“Come out to the steps and look at the night,” said he, snatching, like most restless men, at the chance of movement.
They went out through the hall. James unbarred the front door and the two stood at the top of the flight of stone steps.
The entrance to Balnillo House faced northward, and a wet wind from the east, slight still, but rising, struck upon their right cheeks and carried the heavy muffled booming in through the trees. Balnillo looked frowning at their tops, which had begun to sway; but his brother’s attention was fixed upon a man’s figure, which was emerging from the darkness of the grass park in front of them.
“Who is that?” cried the judge, as the footsteps grew audible.
“It’s a coach at the ford, ma lord—a muckle coach that’s couped i’ the water! Wully an’ Tam an’ Andrew Robieson are seekin’ to ca’ it oot, but it’s fast, ma lord——”
“Is there anyone in it?” interrupted James.