“What, ho! is my young master malapert?” said Christie; “why, man, were he my own carnal father, instead of being father to half the world, I would have my laugh out. And now it is over, I must assist you, I reckon, for you are setting very greenly about this gear—put the pinch nearer the staple, man, and hand me an iron crow through the grate, for that's the fowl to fly away with a wicket on its shoulders. I have broke into as many grates as you have teeth in your young head—ay, and broke out of them too, as the captain of the Castle of Lochmaben knows full well.”
Christie did not boast more skill than he really possessed; for, applying their combined strength, under the direction of that experienced engineer, bolt and staple gave way before them, and in less than half an hour, the grate, which had so long repelled their force, stood open before them.
“And now,” said Edward, “to horse, my mates, and pursue the villain Shafton!”
“Halt, there,” said Christie of the Clinthill; “pursue your guest, my master's friend and my own?—there go two words to that bargain. What the foul fiend would you pursue him for?”
“Let me pass,” said Edward, vehemently, “I will be staid by no man—the villain has murdered my brother!”
“What says he?” said Christie, turning to the others; “murdered? who is murdered, and by whom?”
“The Englishman, Sir Piercie Shafton,” said Dan of the Howlet-hirst, “has murdered young Halbert Glendinning yesterday morning, and we have all risen to the fray.”
“It is a bedlam business, I think,” said Christie. “First I find you all locked up in your own tower, and next I am come to prevent you revenging a murder that was never committed!”
“I tell you,” said Edward, “that my brother was slain and buried yesterday morning by this false Englishman.”
“And I tell you,” answered Christie, “that I saw him alive and well last night. I would I knew his trick of getting out of the grave; most men find it more hard to break through a green sod than a grated door.”