It was now time for the gamble I had resolved on. I remembered
that morning in the Tolbooth, and how the madness had passed, leaving
him a simple soul. I unstrapped the belt, and cut the cords about his
legs.
"Do you feel better now, Mr. Gib?" I asked, as if it were the most
ordinary question in the world.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Was it a dwam?" he inquired. "I get
them whiles."
"It was a dwam, but I think it has passed."
He still rubbed his eyes, and peered about him, like a big collie dog
that has lost its master.
"Who is it that speirs?" he said. "I ken the voice, but I havena heard
it this long time."
"One who is well acquaint with Borrowstoneness and the links of Forth,"
said I.
I spoke in the accent of his own country-side, and it must have woke
some dim chord in his memory, I made haste to strike while the iron was
hot.
"There was a woman at Cramond..." I began.
He got to his feet and looked me in the face. "Ay, there was," he said,
with an odd note in his voice. "What about her?" I could see that his
hand was shaking.
"I think her name was Alison Steel."
"What ken ye of Alison Steel?" he asked fiercely. "Quick, man, what
word have ye frae Alison?"
"You sent me with a letter to her.
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