‘Aye, aye—easy said; but catch them that can,’ answered the provost; ‘they are ower the march by this time, or by the point of Cairn.—Lord help ye! they are a kind of amphibious deevils, neither land nor water beasts neither English nor Scots—neither county nor stewartry, as we say—they are dispersed like so much quicksilver. You may as well try to whistle a sealgh out of the Solway, as to get hold of one of them till all the fray is over.’
‘Mr. Crosbie, this will not do,’ answered the young counsellor; ‘there is a person of more importance than such wretches as you describe concerned in this unhappy business—I must name to you a certain Mr. Herries.’
He kept his eye on the provost as he uttered the name, which he did rather at a venture, and from the connexion which that gentleman, and his real or supposed niece, seemed to have with the fate of Darsie Latimer, than from any distinct cause of suspicion which he entertained. He thought the provost seemed embarrassed, though he showed much desire to assume an appearance of indifference, in which he partly succeeded.
‘Herries!’ he said—‘What Herries?—There are many of that name—not so many as formerly, for the old stocks are wearing out; but there is Herries of Heathgill, and Herries of Auchintulloch, and Herries’—
‘To save you further trouble, this person’s designation is Herries of Birrenswork.’
‘Of Birrenswork?’ said Mr. Crosbie; ‘I have you now, Mr. Alan. Could you not as well have said, the Laird of Redgauntlet?’
Fairford was too wary to testify any surprise at this identification of names, however unexpected. ‘I thought,’ said he, ‘he was more generally known by the name of Herries. I have seen and been in company with him under that name, I am sure.’
‘Oh aye; in Edinburgh, belike. You know Redgauntlet was unfortunate a great while ago, and though he was maybe not deeper in the mire than other folk, yet, for some reason or other, he did not get so easily out.’
‘He was attainted, I understand; and has no remission,’ said Fairford.
The cautious provost only nodded, and said, ‘You may guess, therefore, why it is so convenient he should hold his mother’s name, which is also partly his own, when he is about Edinburgh. To bear his proper name might be accounted a kind of flying in the face of government, ye understand. But he has been long connived at—the story is an old story—and the gentleman has many excellent qualities, and is of a very ancient and honourable house—has cousins among the great folk—counts kin with the advocate and with the sheriff—hawks, you know, Mr. Alan, will not pike out hawks’ een—he is widely connected—my wife is a fourth cousin of Redgauntlet’s.’