‘In the evening, I grant you, Captain Hatteraick,’ said Pleydell, ‘but not in the forenoon. Will you favour me with information where you were upon the day you remember so exactly?’
Hatteraick saw his blunder, and again screwed up his hard features for obstinate silence. ‘Put down his observation, however,’ said Pleydell to the clerk.
At this moment the door opened, and, much to the surprise of most present, Mr. Gilbert Glossin made his appearance. That worthy gentleman had, by dint of watching and eavesdropping, ascertained that he was not mentioned by name in Meg Merrilies’s dying declaration--a circumstance certainly not owing to any favourable disposition towards him, but to the delay of taking her regular examination, and to the rapid approach of death. He therefore supposed himself safe from all evidence but such as might arise from Hatteraick’s confession; to prevent which he resolved to push a bold face and join his brethren of the bench during his examination. ‘I shall be able,’ he thought, ‘to make the rascal sensible his safety lies in keeping his own counsel and mine; and my presence, besides, will be a proof of confidence and innocence. If I must lose the estate, I must; but I trust better things.’
He entered with a profound salutation to Sir Robert Hazlewood. Sir Robert, who had rather begun to suspect that his plebeian neighbour had made a cat’s paw of him, inclined his head stiffly, took snuff, and looked another way.
‘Mr. Corsand,’ said Glossin to the other yokefellow of justice, ‘your most humble servant.’
‘Your humble servant, Mr. Glossin,’ answered Mr. Corsand drily, composing his countenance regis ad exemplar, that is to say, after the fashion of the Baronet.
‘Mac-Morlan, my worthy friend,’ continued Glossin, ‘how d’ ye do; always on your duty?’
‘Umph,’ said honest Mac-Morlan, with little respect either to the compliment or salutation.
‘Colonel Mannering (a low bow slightly returned), and Mr. Pleydell (another low bow), I dared not have hoped for your assistance to poor country gentlemen at this period of the session.’
Pleydell took snuff, and eyed him with a glance equally shrewd and sarcastic. ‘I’ll teach him,’ he said aside to Mannering, ‘the value of the old admonition, Ne accesseris in consilium antequam voceris.’