“If it be a plot at all, there must be treason in it, or sedition at least,” said the Bailie—“Will you bail him for four hundred merks?”
“Four hundred merks for an old Blue-Gown! Think on the act 1701 regulating bail-bonds!—Strike off a cipher from the sum—I am content to bail him for forty merks.”
“Well, Mr. Oldbuck, everybody in Fairport is always willing to oblige you—and besides, I know that you are a prudent man, and one that would be as unwilling to lose forty, as four hundred merks. So I will accept your bail, meo periculo—what say you to that law phrase again? I had it from a learned counsel. I will vouch it, my lord, he said, meo periculo.”
“And I will vouch for Edie Ochiltree, meo periculo, in like manner,” said Oldbuck. “So let your clerk draw out the bail-bond, and I will sign it.”
When this ceremony had been performed, the Antiquary communicated to Edie the joyful tidings that he was once more at liberty, and directed him to make the best of his way to Monkbarns House, to which he himself returned with his nephew, after having perfected their good work.
CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
Full of wise saws and modern instances.
As You Like It.
“I wish to Heaven, Hector,” said the Antiquary, next morning after breakfast, “you would spare our nerves, and not be keeping snapping that arquebuss of yours.”
“Well, sir, I’m sure I’m sorry to disturb you,” said his nephew, still handling his fowling-piece;—“but it’s a capital gun—it’s a Joe Manton, that cost forty guineas.”