"Grandfather knows campaigning and can take care of himself," the Squire
answered; "and the Captain's used to out-door life; but there's the
minister now, puir man! Weel, weel, Marjorie, when I gang the roonds,
I'll see if he needs onything."
Then the pair chatted away, chiefly about the Grinstun man, whom
Carruthers came to regard in the light of a spy. Though surrounded on
every side by suspicious circumstances, there was nothing definite
against him, the nearest evidence to a conviction being the geological
or mineralogical expressions which the unguarded dilapidated farmer on
the way to the Beaver River had coupled with his name, and his own
admissions to the spurious Miss Du Plessis.
"Maister Coristine," said the Squire, "gin I thocht yon deevil, seein'
it's Monday mornin' the noo, was at the foondation o' this ploy, I'd
think naething o' spendin' five thoosand to pit an end til's tricks."
"All right, Squire; I think I'll go into criminal law, and work it up
for you."
"What's yon? I maun gang out, for I hear Mr. Wilkinson calling me."
The lawyer accompanied him to the door.
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