"The oldest, and a stout-like man, was Irish. The youngest, and very strong-like, was a McDonell, of the family of Glengarry," he answered.
"How did they know the money was there? Did these officers speak of it?" I asked, thinking I might as well get at the whole story.
"No," said he, "but another officer, who had been with old Colin since the battle, went on board their ship when they landed and told him the youngest one was sure to have money."
"Was his name Creach or Graeme," I went on.
"I don't just remember, but his face was as white as a sick woman's," was the answer, which fixed my man for me beyond a doubt.
"And what was done with the money?"
"Colin Dearg got three hundred guineas, William Killcoy three hundred, and Lieutenant Murdock McKenzie three hundred."
"And what of the other hundred?"
"Two men who stood behind the Irish Captain with drawn dirks, ready to kill him had he observed Colin Dearg cutting open the portmanteau, got twenty-five guineas each, and I and another man, prepared to do the like to the young Captain McDonell, got the same," he answered, very cool, as if it were a piece of business he did every day.
"Now, are you telling the truth?" I asked, sternly.