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 for his guidance. It was midnight—the town clock was striking—when he entered Castle Douglas and began to inquire his way to the Walter Scott hotel.

After repeated knocking the door was opened by the Boots—a heavy, thick-headed, sleepy, tousled man, surly and grudging of speech. Athlyne pushed past him into the hall way and said:

"I wired here in the afternoon to have kept for me the Sheriff's rooms. Did my telegram arrive."

"Aye. It kem a'recht. But that was all that kem. Ye was expectit, an' the missis kep the rooms for ye till late; but when ye didna come she gied ye up an' let anither pairty that was lost i' the fog hae the bedroom. All that's left is the parlour, an that we can hae an ye will. Forbye that ye'll hae to sleep on the sofy. A'm thinkin' it's weel it's o'er long than ordinair', for ye're no a ween yersel. Bide wheer y' are, an' A'll fetch ye a rug or two an' a cushion. Ye maun put up wi' them the nicht for ye'll git nane ither here." He left him standing in the dark; and shuffled away down a dim stairway, to the basement.

In a few minutes he re-appeared with a bundle of rugs and pillows under his arm; in his hand was a bottle of whiskey, with the drawn cork partly re-inserted. With the deftness of an accomplished servitor he carried in his other hand, together with the candle, a pitcher of water and a tumbler. As he went up the staircase he said in a whisper:

"Man, walk saft ye gang; an' dinna cough nor sneeze or mak' a soond in the room or ye'll maybe waken th' ither body. Joost gang like a man at a carry in'. An' mind ye dinna snore! Lie ye like a bairn! What time shall A ca' ye?"

"I want to catch the morning train for the south."

"That'll be a'recht. A'll ca' ye braw an' airly!"

"Good night!" said Athlyne as he softly closed the door.

He spread one rug on the sofa, which supplemented by