"To sum up," said Colstoun, "you prove that Alan was on the spot;
you have heard him proffer menaces against Glenure; and though you
assure us he was not the man who fired, you leave a strong
impression that he was in league with him, and consenting, perhaps
immediately assisting, in the act. You show him besides, at the
risk of his own liberty, actively furthering the criminal's escape.
And the rest of your testimony (so far as the least material)
depends on the bare word of Alan or of James, the two accused. In
short, you do not at all break, but only lengthen by one personage,
the chain that binds our client to the murderer; and I need
scarcely say that the introduction of a third accomplice rather
aggravates that appearance of a conspiracy which has been our
stumbling block from the beginning."
"I am of the same opinion," said Sheriff Miller. "I think we may
all be very much obliged to Prestongrange for taking a most
uncomfortable witness out of our way. And chiefly, I think, Mr.
Balfour himself might be obliged. For you talk of a third
accomplice, but Mr. Balfour (in my view) has very much the
appearance of a fourth."
"Allow me, sirs!" interposed Stewart the Writer. "There is another
view. Here we have a witness--never fash whether material or not--
a witness in this cause, kidnapped by that old, lawless, bandit
crew of the Glengyle Macgregors, and sequestered for near upon a
month in a bourock of old ruins on the Bass. Move that and see
what dirt you fling on the proceedings! Sirs, this is a tale to
make the world ring with! It would be strange, with such a grip as
this, if we couldnae squeeze out a pardon for my client."
"And suppose we took up Mr. Balfour's cause to-morrow?" said
Stewart Hall. "I am much deceived or we should find so many
impediments thrown in our path, as that James should have been
hanged before we had found a court to hear us. This is a great
scandal, but I suppose we have none of us forgot a greater still, I
mean the matter of the Lady Grange. The woman was still in
durance; my friend Mr. Hope of Rankeillor did what was humanly
possible; and how did he speed? He never got a warrant! Well,
it'll be the same now; the same weapons will be used. This is a
scene, gentleman, of clan animosity. The hatred of the name which
I have the honour to bear, rages in high quarters. There is
nothing here to be viewed but naked Campbell spite and scurvy
Campbell intrigue."
You may be sure this was to touch a welcome topic, and I sat for
some time in the midst of my learned counsel, almost deaved with
their talk but extremely little the wiser for its purport. The
Writer was led into some hot expressions; Colstoun must take him up
and set him right; the rest joined in on different sides, but all
pretty noisy; the Duke of Argyle was beaten like a blanket; King
George came in for a few digs in the by-going and a great deal of
rather elaborate defence; and there was only one person that seemed
to be forgotten, and that was James of the Glens.
Through all this Mr. Miller sat quiet. He was a slip of an oldish
gentleman, ruddy and twinkling; he spoke in a smooth rich voice,
with an infinite effect of pawkiness, dealing out each word the way
an actor does, to give the most expression possible; and even now,
when he was silent, and sat there with his wig laid aside, his
glass in both hands, his mouth funnily pursed, and his chin out, he
seemed the mere picture of a merry slyness. It was plain he had a
word to say, and waited for the fit occasion.
It came presently. Colstoun had wound up one of his speeches with
some expression of their duty to their client. His brother sheriff
was pleased, I suppose, with the transition. He took the table in
his confidence with a gesture and a look.
"That suggests to me a consideration which seems overlooked," said
he. "The interest of our client goes certainly before all, but the
world does not come to an end with James Stewart." Whereat he
cocked his eye.