“Not now. Maybe in another hour or more.”
“But wha’s yon?” said she.
“Lord! woman, have you lived all these years in Montrose and never seen a drunken man?” exclaimed he impatiently. “Shut the door, I’m telling you, and get what I want. He will not trouble you. He’s past troubling anybody.”
She obeyed, and Archie heard a bolt shot on the inside.
Though he had been startled on discovering his mistake, he now felt comforted by it, for, being unknown to Ferrier, he was much safer with him than he would have been with James. He raised his head and tried to get an idea of his companion’s face, but the darkness of the close was too great to let him distinguish his features. He had discovered where he lived by accident, but though a description of the man was in the little box now reposing on the tester of his bed at Balnillo, he did not know him by sight. These things were going through his mind as the woman returned from her lodger’s errand, and the door had just been made fast again when there was a step at the close’s mouth and another man came quickly in, stopping short as he found it occupied.
Ferrier coughed.
“Ferrier?” said James’s voice softly. “What is this?” he asked as his foot came in contact with Archie.
“It’s a drunken brute who came roaring in here a minute syne and fell head over heels at my door,” replied the other. “The town is full of them to-night.”
He stooped down and took Flemington by the shoulder.
“Up you get!” he cried, shaking him.