ON a certain evening in the month of September (at that period ofthe month when Arnold and Blanche were traveling back from Badento Ham Farm) an ancient man--with one eye filmy and blind, andone eye moist and merry--sat alone in the pantry of the Harp ofScotland Inn, Perth, pounding the sugar softly in a glass ofwhisky-punch. He has hitherto been personally distinguished inthese pages as the self-appointed father of Anne Silvester andthe humble servant of Blanche at the dance at Swanhaven Lodge. Henow dawns on the view in amicable relations with a thirdlady--and assumes the mystic character of Mrs. Glenarm's "Friendin the Dark."

Arriving in Perth the day after the festivities at Swanhaven,Bishopriggs proceeded to the Harp of Scotland--at whichestablishment for the reception of travelers he possessed theadvantage of being known to the landlord as Mrs. Inchbare'sright-hand man, and of standing high on the head-waiter's list ofold and intimate friends.

Inquiring for the waiter first by the name of Thomas (otherwiseTammy) Pennyquick, Bishopriggs found his friend in sore distressof body and mind. Contending vainly against the disablingadvances of rheumatism, Thomas Pennyquick ruefully contemplatedthe prospect of being laid up at home by a long illness--with awife and children to support, and with the emoluments attached tohis position passing into the pockets of the first stranger whocould be found to occupy his place at the inn.

Hearing this doleful story, Bishopriggs cunningly saw his way toserving his own private interests by performing the part ofThomas Pennyquick's generous and devoted friend.

He forthwith offered to fill the place, without taking theemoluments, of the invalided headwaiter--on the understanding, asa matter of course, that the landlord consented to board andlodge him free of expense at the inn. The landlord having readilyaccepted this condition, Thomas Pennyquick retired to the bosomof his family. And there was Bishopriggs, doubly secured behind arespectable position and a virtuous action against all likelihoodof suspicion falling on him as a stranger in Perth--in the eventof his correspondence with Mrs. Glenarm being made the object oflegal investigation on the part of her friends!

Having opened the campaign in this masterly manner, the samesagacious foresight had distinguished the operations ofBishopriggs throughout.

His correspondence with Mrs. Glenarm was invariably written withthe left hand--the writing thus produced defying detection, inall cases, as bearing no resemblance of character whatever towriting produced by persons who habitually use the other hand. Ano less far-sighted cunning distinguished his proceedings inanswering the advertisements which the lawyers duly inserted inthe newspaper. He appointed hours at which he was employed onbusiness-errands for the inn, and places which lay on the way tothose errands, for his meetings with Mrs. Glenarm'srepresentatives: a pass-word being determined on, as usual insuch cases, by exchanging which the persons concerned coulddiscover each other. However carefully the lawyers might set thesnare--whether they had their necessary "witness" disguised as anartist sketching in the neighborhood, or as an old woman sellingfruit, or what not--the wary eye of Bishopriggs detected it. Heleft the pass-word unspoken; he went his way on his errand; hewas followed on suspicion; and he was discovered to be only "arespectable person," charged with a message by the landlord ofthe Harp of Scotland Inn!

To a man intrenched behind such precautions as these, the chanceof being detected might well be reckoned among the last of allthe chances that could possibly happen.

Discovery was, nevertheless, advancing on Bishopriggs from aquarter which had not been included in his calculations. AnneSilvester was in Perth; forewarned by the newspaper (as SirPatrick had guessed) that the letters offered to Mrs. Glenarmwere the letters between Geoffrey and herself, which she had lostat Craig Fernie, and bent on clearing up the suspicion whichpointed to Bishopriggs as the person who was trying to turn thecorrespondence to pecuniary account. The inquiries made for him,at Anne's request, as soon as she arrived in the town, openlydescribed his name, and his former position as headwaiter atCraig Fernie--and thu s led easily to the discovery of him, inhis publicly avowed character of Thomas Pennyquick's devotedfriend. Toward evening, on the day after she reached Perth, thenews came to Anne that Bishopriggs was in service at the innknown as the Harp of Scotland. The landlord of the hotel at whichshe was staying inquired whether he should send a message forher. She answered, "No, I will take my message myself. All I wantis a person to show me the way to the inn."

Secluded in the solitude of the head-waiter's pantry, Bishopriggssat peacefully melting the sugar in his whisky-punch.

It was the hour of the evening at which a period of tranquillitygenerally occurred before what was called "the night-business" ofthe house began. Bishopriggs was accustomed to drink and meditatedaily in this interval of repose. He tasted the punch, and smiledcontentedly as he set down his glass. The prospect before himlooked fairly enough. He had outwitted the lawyers in thepreliminary negotiations thus far. All that was needful now wasto wait till the terror of a public scandal (sustained byoccasional letters from her "Friend in the Dark") had its dueeffect on Mrs. Glenarm, and hurried her into paying thepurchase-money for the correspondence with her own hand. "Let itbreed in the brain," he thought, "and the siller will soon comeout o' the purse."

His reflections were interrupted by the appearance of a slovenlymaid-servant, with a cotton handkerchief tied round her head, andan uncleaned sauce-pan in her hand.

"Eh, Maister Bishopriggs," cried the girl, "here's a braw youngleddy speerin' for ye by yer ain name at the door."

"A leddy?" repeated Bishopriggs, with a look of virtuous disgust."Ye donnert ne'er-do-weel, do you come to a decent, 'sponsibleman like me, wi' sic a Cyprian overture as that? What d'ye tak'me for? Mark Antony that lost the world for love (the mair fulehe!)? or Don Jovanny that counted his concubines by hundreds,like the blessed Solomon himself? Awa' wi' ye to yer pots andpans; and bid the wandering Venus that sent ye go spin!"

Before the girl could answer she was gently pulled aside from thedoorway, and Bishopriggs, thunder-struck, saw Anne Silvesterstanding in her place.

"You had better tell the servant I am no stranger to you," saidAnne, looking toward the kitchen-maid, who stood in the passagestaring at her in stolid amazement.

"My ain sister's child!" cried Bishopriggs, lying with hiscustomary readiness. "Go yer ways, Maggie. The bonny lassie's myain kith and kin. The tongue o' scandal, I trow, has naething tosay against that.--Lord save us and guide us!" he added Inanother tone, as the girl closed the door on them, "what bringsye here?"

"I have something to say to you. I am not very well; I must waita little first. Give me a chair."

Bishopriggs obeyed in silence. His one available eye rested onAnne, as he produced the chair, with an uneasy and suspiciousattention. "I'm wanting to know one thing," he said. "By whatmeeraiculous means, young madam, do ye happen to ha' fund yer wayto this inn?"

Anne told him how her inquiries had been made and what the resulthad been, plainly and frankly. The clouded face of Bishopriggsbegan to clear again.

"Hech! hech!" he exclaimed, recovering all his native impudence,"I hae had occasion to remark already, to anither leddy thanyersel', that it's seemply mairvelous hoo a man's ain gude deedsfind him oot in this lower warld o' ours. I hae dune a gude deedby pure Tammy Pennyquick, and here's a' Pairth ringing wi thereport o' it; and Sawmuel Bishopriggs sae weel known that onystranger has only to ask, and find him. Understand, I beseech ye,that it's no hand o' mine that pets this new feather in my cap.As a gude Calvinist, my saul's clear o' the smallest figment o'belief in Warks. When I look at my ain celeebrity I joost ask, asthe Psawmist asked before me, 'Why do the heathen rage, and thepeople imagine a vain thing?' It seems ye've something to say tome," he added, suddenly reverting to the object of Anne's visit."Is it humanly possible that ye can ha' come a' the way to Pairthfor naething but that?"

The expression of suspicion began to show itself again in hisface. Concealing as she best might the disgust that he inspiredin her, Anne stated her errand in the most direct manner, and inthe fewest possible words.

"I have come here to ask you for something," she said.

"Ay? ay? What may it be ye're wanting of me?"

"I want the letter I lost at Craig Fernie."

Even the solidly-founded self-possession of Bishopriggs himselfwas shaken by the startling directness of that attack on it. Hisglib tongue was paralyzed for the moment. "I dinna ken what ye'redrivin' at," he said, after an interval, with a sullenconsciousness that he had been all but tricked into betrayinghimself.

The change in his manner convinced Anne that she had found inBishopriggs the person of whom she was in search.

"You have got my letter," she said, sternly insisting on thetruth. "And you are trying to turn it to a disgraceful use. Iwon't allow you to make a market of my private affairs. You haveoffered a letter of mine for sale to a stranger. I insist on yourrestoring it to me before I leave this room!"

Bishopriggs hesitated again. His first suspicion that Anne hadbeen privately instructed by Mrs. Glenarm's lawyers returned tohis mind as a suspicion confirmed. He felt the vast importance ofmaking a cautious reply.

"I'll no' waste precious time," he said, after a moment'sconsideration with himself, "in brushing awa' the fawse breath o'scandal, when it passes my way. It blaws to nae purpose, my youngleddy, when it blaws on an honest man like me. Fie for shame onye for saying what ye've joost said--to me that was a fether toye at Craig Fernie! Wha' set ye on to it? Will it be man or womanthat's misca'ed me behind my back?"

Anne took the Glasgow newspaper from the pocket of her travelingcloak, and placed it before him, open at the paragraph whichdescribed the act of extortion attempted on Mrs. Glenarm.

"I have found there," she said, "all that I want to know."

"May a' the tribe o' editors, preenters, paper-makers,news-vendors, and the like, bleeze together in the pit o'Tophet!" With this devout aspiration--internally felt, not openlyuttered--Bishopriggs put on his spectacles, and read the passagepointed out to him. "I see naething here touching the name o'Sawmuel Bishopriggs, or the matter o' ony loss ye may or may notha' had at Craig Fernie," he said, when he had done; stilldefending his position, with a resolution worthy of a bettercause.

Anne's pride recoiled at the prospect of prolonging thediscussion with him. She rose to her feet, and said her lastwords.

"I have learned enough by this time," she answered, "to know thatthe one argument that prevails with you is the argument of money.If money will spare me the hateful necessity of disputing withyou--poor as I am, money you shall have. Be silent, if youplease. You are personally interested in what I have to saynext."

She opened her purse, and took a five-pound note from it.

"If you choose to own the truth, and produce the letter," sheresumed, "I will give you this, as your reward for finding, andrestoring to me, something that I had lost. If you persist inyour present prevarication, I can, and will, make that sheet ofnote-paper you have stolen from me nothing but waste paper inyour hands. You have threatened Mrs. Glenarm with myinterference. Suppose I go to Mrs. Glenarm? Suppose I interferebefore the week is out? Suppose I have other letters of Mr.Delamayn's in my possession, and produce them to speak for me?What has Mrs. Glenarm to purchase of you _then?_ Answer me that!"

The color rose on her pale face. Her eyes, dim and weary when sheentered the room, looked him brightly through and through inimmeasurable contempt. "Answer me that!" she repeated, with aburst of her old energy which revealed the fire and passion ofthe woman's nature, not quenched even yet!

If Bishopriggs had a merit, it was a rare merit, as men go, ofknowing when he was beaten. If he had an accomplis hment, it wasthe accomplishment of retiring defeated, with all the honors ofwar.

"Mercy presairve us!" he exclaimed, in the most innocent manner."Is it even You Yersel' that writ the letter to the man ca'edJaffray Delamayn, and got the wee bit answer in pencil on theblank page? Hoo, in Heeven's name, was I to know _that_ was theletter ye were after when ye cam' in here? Did ye ever tell me yewere Anne Silvester, at the hottle? Never ance! Was the puirfeckless husband-creature ye had wi' ye at the inn, JaffrayDelamayn? Jaffray wad mak' twa o' him, as my ain eyes ha' seen.Gi' ye back yer letter? My certie! noo I know it is yer letter,I'll gi' it back wi' a' the pleasure in life!"

He opened his pocket-book, and took it out, with an alacrityworthy of the honestest man in Christendom--and (more wonderfulstill) he looked with a perfectly assumed expression ofindifference at the five-pound note in Anne's hand.

"Hoot! toot!" he said, "I'm no' that clear in my mind that I'mfree to tak' yer money. Eh, weel! weel! I'll een receive it, ifye like, as a bit Memento o' the time when I was o' some sma'sairvice to ye at the hottle. Ye'll no' mind," he added, suddenlyreturning to business, "writin' me joost a line--in the way o'receipt, ye ken--to clear me o' ony future suspicion in thematter o' the letter?"

Anne threw down the bank-note on the table near which they werestanding, and snatched the letter from him.

"You need no receipt," she answered. "There shall be no letter tobear witness against you!"

She lifted her other hand to tear it in pieces. Bishopriggscaught her by both wrists, at the same moment, and held her fast.

"Bide a wee!" he said. "Ye don't get the letter, young madam,without the receipt. It may be a' the same to _you,_ now ye'vemarried the other man, whether Jaffray Delamayn ance promised yefair in the by-gone time, or no. But, my certie! it's a matter o'some moment to _me,_ that ye've chairged wi' stealin' the letter,and making a market o't, and Lord knows what besides, that I suldhae yer ain acknowledgment for it in black and white. Gi' me mybit receipt--and een do as ye will with yer letter after that!"

Anne's hold of the letter relaxed. She let Bishopriggs repossesshimself of it as it dropped on the floor between them, withoutmaking an effort to prevent him.

"It may be a' the same to _you,_ now ye've married the other man,whether Jaffray Delamayn ance promised ye fair in the by-gonetime, or no." Those words presented Anne's position before her ina light in which she had not seen it yet. She had truly expressedthe loathing that Geoffrey now inspired in her, when she haddeclared, in her letter to Arnold, that, even if he offered hermarriage, in atonement for the past, she would rather be what shewas than be his wife. It had never occurred to her, until thismoment, that others would misinterpret the sensitive pride whichhad prompted the abandonment of her claim on the man who hadruined her. It had never been brought home to her until now, thatif she left him contemptuously to go his own way, and sellhimself to the first woman who had money enough to buy him, herconduct would sanction the false conclusion that she waspowerless to interfere, because she was married already toanother man. The color that had risen in her face vanished, andleft it deadly pale again. She began to see that the purpose ofher journey to the north was not completed yet.

"I will give you your receipt," she said. "Tell me what to write,and it shall be written."

Bishopriggs dictated the receipt. She wrote and signed it. He putit in his pocket-book with the five-pound note, and handed herthe letter in exchange.

"Tear it if ye will," he said. "It matters naething to _me._"

For a moment she hesitated. A sudden shuddering shook her fromhead to foot--the forewarning, it might be, of the influencewhich that letter, saved from destruction by a hair's-breadth,was destined to exercise on her life to come. She recoveredherself, and folded her cloak closer to her, as if she had felt apassing chill.

"No," she said; "I will keep the letter."

She folded it and put it in the pocket of her dress. Then turnedto go--and stopped at the door.

"One thing more," she added. "Do you know Mrs. Glenarm's presentaddress?"

"Ye're no' reely going to Mistress Glenarm?"

"That is no concern of yours. You can answer my question or not,as you please."

"Eh, my leddy! yer temper's no' what it used to be in the auldtimes at the hottle. Aweel! aweel! ye ha' gi'en me yer money, andI'll een gi' ye back gude measure for it, on my side. MistressGlenarm's awa' in private--incog, as they say--to JaffrayDelamayn's brither at Swanhaven Lodge. Ye may rely on theinformation, and it's no' that easy to come at either. They'vekeepit it a secret as they think from a' the warld. Hech! hech!Tammy Pennyquick's youngest but twa is page-boy at the hoosewhere the leddy's been veesitin', on the outskirts o' Pairth.Keep a secret if ye can frae the pawky ears o' yer domestics inthe servants' hall!--Eh! she's aff, without a word at parting!"he exclaimed, as Anne left him without ceremony in the middle ofhis dissertation on secrets and servants' halls. "I trow I ha'gaen out for wool, and come back shorn," he added, reflectinggrimly on the disastrous overthrow of the promising speculationon which he had embarked. "My certie! there was naething leftfor't, when madam's fingers had grippit me, but to slip throughthem as cannily as I could. What's Jaffray's marrying, or no'marrying, to do wi' _her?_" he wondered, reverting to thequestion which Anne had put to him at parting. "And whar's thesense o' her errand, if she's reely bent on finding her way toMistress Glenarm?"

Whatever the sense of her errand might be, Anne's next proceedingproved that she was really bent on it. After resting two days,she left Perth by the first train in the morning, for SwanhavenLodge.