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door, so that from the chair in which his prisoner sate he might satisfy himself there was no eavesdropper within hearing, then shut it, resumed his seat, and repeated his question, “You are Dirk Hatteraick, formerly of the Yungfrauw Haagenslaapen, are

you not?”

“Tousand deyvils! — and if you know that, why ask me?" said the prisoner.

“Because I am surprised to see you in the very last place where you ought to be, if you regard your safety," observed Glossin coolly.

“Der deyvil! – no man regards his own safety that speaks so to me!”

“What? unarmed, and in irons! Well said, Captain!" replied Glossin ironically. “But, Captain, bullying won't do you 'll hardly get out of this country without accounting for a little accident that happened at Warroch Point a few years ago.”

Hatteraick's looks grew black as midnight.

“For my part,” continued Glossin, “I have no particular wish to be hard upon an old acquaintance but I must do my duty – I shall send you off to Edinburgh in a post-chaise and four this very day.”

“Poz donner! you would not do that?” said Hatteraick, in a lower and more humbled tone; “why you had the matter of half a cargo in bills on Vanbeest and Vapbruggen."

“It is so long since, Captain Hatteraick," answered Glossin superciliously, “that I really forget how I was recompensed for my trouble.”

“Your trouble? your silence you mean.”

It was an affair in the course of business," said Glossin, “ and I have retired from business for some time.”

“Ay, but I have a notion that I could make you go steady about and try the old course again," answered Dirk Hatteraick. “Why, man, hold me der deyyil, but I meant to visit you, and tell

you something that concerns you.”
“Of the boy?” said Glossin eagerly.
“Yaw, Mynheer,” replied the Captain coolly.
“He does not live, does he?",

“As lifelich as you or I,” said Hatteraick.
“Good God! - But in India?” exclaimed Glossin.

“No, tousand deyvils, here! on this dirty coast of yours," rejoined the prisoner.

“But, Hatteraick, this, that is, if it be true, which I do not believe, - this will ruin us both, for he cannot but remember your neat job; and for me it will be productive of the worst consequences! It will ruin us both, I tell you.”

“I tell you,” said the seaman, “it will ruin none but you for I am done up already, and if I must strap for it, all shall out."

“Zounds," said the Justice impatiently, “what brought you back to this coast like a madman?”

“Why, all the gelt was gone, and the house was shaking, and I thought the job was clayed over and forgotten," answered the worthy skipper.

“Stay-what can be done?” said Glossin anxiously. “I dare not discharge you — but might you not be rescued in the way ay sure

a word to Lieutenant Brown, and I would send the people with you by the coast-road.”

No, no! that won't do Brown's dead shot — laid in the locker, man, - the devil has the picking of him."

“Dead? - shot? at Woodbourne, I suppose?" replied Glossin.

“Yaw, Mynheer." Glossio paused

the sweat broke upon his brow with the agony of his feelings, while the hard-featured miscreant who sat opposite, coolly rolled his tobacco in his cheek, and squirted the juice into the fire-grate. “It would be ruin," said Glossin to himself, “absolute ruin, if the heir should reappear – and then, what might be the consequence of conniving with these men? — yet there is so little time to take measures Hatteraick; I can't set you at liberty - but I can put you where you may set yourself at liberty · I always like to assist an old friend. I shall confine you in the old castle for to-night, and give these people double allowance of grog. Mac-Guffog will fall in the trap in which he caught you. The stancheons on the window

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Hark you,

of the strong room, as they call it, are wasted to pieces, and it is not above twelve feet from the level of the ground without, and the snow lies thick."

“But the darbies,” said Hatteraick, looking upon his fetters.

“Hark ye,” said Glossin, going to a tool chest, and taking out a small file, “there's a friend for you, and you know the road to the sea by the stairs.” Hatteraick shook his chains in ecstasy, as if he were already at liberty, and strove to extend his fettered hand towards his protector. Glossin laid his finger upon his lips with a cautious glance at the door, and then proceeded in his instructions. “When you escape, you had better go to the Kaim of Derncleugh.”

“Donner! that howff is blown."

“The devil! well, then, you may steal my skiff that lies on the beach, there, and away. But you must remain snug at the Point of Warroch till I come to see you."

“The Point of Warroch?” said Hatteraick, his countenance again falling; “What, in the cave, I suppose? - I would rather it were any where else; es spuckt da! they say for certain that he walks — But, donner and blitzen! I never shunned him alive, and I won't shun him dead Strafe mich helle! it shall never be said Dirk Hatteraick feared either dog or devil! So I am to wait there till I see you?” “Ay, ay,” answered Glossin, “and now I must call in the

He did so accordingly. “I can make nothing of Captain Janson, as he calls himself, Mac-Guffog, and it's now too late to bundle him off to the county jail. Is there not a strong room up yonder in the old castle?"

Ay is there, Sir; my uncle the constable ance kept a man there for three days in auld Ellangowan's time. But there was an unco dust about it - it was tried in the Inner-house afore the Feifteen."

“I know all that, but this person will not stay there very long -- it's only a makeshift for a night, a mere lock-up house till farther examination. There is a small room through which it opens, you may light a fire for yourselves there, and I'll send you plenty of stuff to make you comfortable. But be sure you lock

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the door upon the prisoner; and, hark ye, let him have a fire in the strong room too, the season requires it. Perhaps he'll make a clean breast to-morrow.”

With these instructions, and with a large allowance of food and liquor, the justice dismissed his party to keep guard for the night in the old castle, under the full hope and belief that they would neither spend the night in watching por prayer.

There was little fear that Glossin himself should that night sleep over-sound. His situation was perilous in the extreme, for the schemes of a life of villainy seemed at once to be crumbling around and above him. He laid himself to rest, and tossed upon his pillow for a long time in vain. At length he fell asleep, but it was only to dream of his patron, now,

as he had last seen him, with the paleness of death upon his features, then again transformed into all the vigour and comeliness of youth, approaching to expel him from the mansion-house of his fathers. Then he dreamed, that after wandering long over a wild heath, he came at length to an inn, from which sounded the voice of revelry; and that when he entered, the first person he met was Frank Kennedy, all smashed and gory, as he had lain on the beach at Warroch Point, but with a reeking punch-bowl in his hand. Then the scene changed to a dungeon, where he heard Dirk Hatteraick, whom he imagined to be under sentence of death, confessing his crimes to a clergyman. “After the bloody deed was done,” said the penitent, “we retreated into a cave close beside, the secret of which was known but to one man in the country; we were debating what to do with the child, and we thought of giving it up to the gipsies, when we heard the cries of the pursuers hallooing to each other. One man alone came straight to our cave, and it was that man who knew the secret. but we made him our friend at the expense of half the value of the goods saved. By his advice we carried off the child to Holland in our consort, which came the following night to take us from the coast. That man was"

“No, I deny it!-- it was not I!” said Glossin, in half-uttered accents; and, struggling in his agony to express his denial more distinctly, he awoke.

any other

It was, however, conscience that had prepared this mental phantasmagoria. The truth was, that knowing much better than

person the haunts of the smugglers, he had, while the others were searching in different directions, gone straight to the cave, even before he had learned the murder of Kennedy, whom he expected to find their prisoner. He came upon them with some idea of mediation, but found them in the midst of their guilty terrors, while the rage, which had hurried them on to murder, began, with all but Hatteraick, to sink into remorse and fear. Glossin was then indigent and greatly in debt, but he was already possessed of Mr. Bertram's ear, and, aware of the facility of his disposition, he saw no difficulty in enriching himself at his expense, provided the heir-male were removed, in which case the eslate became the unlimited property of the weak and prodigal father. Stimulated by present gain and the prospect of contingent advantage, he accepted the bribe which the smugglers offered in their terror, and connived at, or rather encouraged, their intention of carrying away the child of his benefactor, who, if left behind, was old enough to have described the scene of blood which he had witnessed. The only palliative which the ingenuity of Glossin could offer to his conscience was, that the temptation was great, and came suddenly upon him, embracing as it were the very advantages on which his mind had so long rested, and promising to relieve him from distresses which must have otherwise speedily overwhelmed him. Besides, he endeavoured to think that self-preservation rendered his conduct necessary. He was, in some degree, in the power of the robbers, and pleaded hard with his conscience, that, bad he declined their offers, the assistance which he could have called for, though not distant, might not have arrived in time to save him from men, who, on less provocation, had just committed murder.

Galled with the anxious forebodings of a guilty conscience, Glossip now arose, and looked out upon the night. The scene which we have already described in the beginning of this volume, was now covered with snow, and the brilliant, though waste, whiteness of the land, gave to the sea by contrast a dark and livid tinge. A landscape covered with snow, though Guy Mannering.


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