“Indeed, Mrs. Calvert, since ever we met, I have been so busy thinking about who you might be that I know not what you have been proposing. I believe I meant to do what I could to save you But, once for all, tell me everything that you know concerning that amiable young gentleman’s death, and here is my band there shall be nothing wanting that I can effect for you.”
“No I despise all barter with such mean and selfish curiosity; and, as I believe that passion is stronger with you, than fear with me, we part on equal terms. Do your worst; and my secret shall go to the gallows and the grave with me.”
Mrs. Logan was now greatly confounded, and after proffering in vain to concede everything she could ask in exchange, for the particulars relating to the murder, she became the suppliant in her turn. But the unaccountable culprit, exulting in her advantage, laughed her to scorn; and finally, in a paroxysm of pride and impatience, called in the jailor and had her expelled, ordering him in her hearing not to grant her admittance a second time, on any pretence.
Mrs. Logan was now hard put to it, and again driven almost to despair. She might have succeeded in the attainment of that she thirsted for most in life so easily had she known the character with which she had to deal. Had she known to have soothed her high and afflicted spirit: but that opportunity was past, and the hour of examination at hand. She once thought of going and claiming her articles, as she at first intended; but then, when she thought again of the Wringhims swaying it at Dalcastle, where she had been wont to hear them held in such contempt, if not abhorrence, and perhaps of holding it by the most diabolical means, she was withheld from marring the only chance that remained of having a glimpse into that mysterious affair.
Finally, she resolved not to answer to her name in the court, rather than to appear and assert a falsehood, which she might be called on to certify by oath. She did so; and heard the Sheriff give orders to the officers to make inquiry for Miss Logan from Edinburgh, at the various places of entertainment in town, and to expedite her arrival in court, as things of great value were in dependence. She also heard the man who had turned king’s evidence against the prisoner examined for the second time, and sifted most cunningly. His answers gave anything but satisfaction to the Sheriff, though Mrs. Logan believed them to be mainly truth. But there were a few questions and answers that struck her above all others.
“How long is it since Mrs. Calvert and you became acquainted?”
“About a year and a half.”
“State the precise time, if you please; the day, or night, according to your remembrance.”
“It was on the morning of the 28th of February, 1705.”
“What time of the morning?”
“Perhaps about one.”
“So early as that? At what place did you meet then?”
“It was at the foot of one of the north wynds of Edinburgh.” “Was it by appointment that you met?”
“No, it was not.”
“For what purpose was it then?”
“For no purpose.”
“How is it that you chance to remember the day and hour so minutely, if you met that woman, whom you have accused, merely by chance, and for no manner of purpose, as you must have met others that night, perhaps to the amount of hundreds, in the same way?”
“I have good cause to remember it, my lord.”
“What was that cause?—No answer?—You don’t choose to say what that cause was?”
“I am not at liberty to tell.”
The Sheriff then descended to other particulars, all of which tended to prove that the fellow was an accomplished villain, and that the principal share of the atrocities had been committed by him. Indeed the Sheriff hinted that he suspected the only share Mrs. Calvert had in them was in being too much in his company, and too true to him. The case was remitted to the Court of Justiciary; but Mrs. Logan had heard enough to convince her that the culprits first met at the very spot, and the very hour, on which George Colwan was slain; and she had no doubt that they were incendiaries set on by his mother, to forward her own and her darling son’s way to opulence. Mrs. Logan was wrong, as will appear in the sequel; but her antipathy to Mrs. Colwan made her watch the event with all care. She never quitted Peebles as long as Bell Calvert remained there, and, when she was removed to Edinburgh, the other followed. When the trial came on, Mrs. Logan and her maid were again summoned as witnesses before the jury, and compelled by the prosecutor for the Crown to appear.
The maid was first called; and, when she came into the witness box, the anxious and hopeless looks of the prisoner were manifest to all. But the girl, whose name, she said, was Bessy Gillies, answered in so flippant and fearless a way that the auditors were much amused. After a number of routine questions, the depute-advocate asked her if she was at home on the morning of the fifth of September last, when her mistress’s house was robbed.
“Was I at hame, say ye? Na, faith-ye, lad! An’ I had been at hame, there had been mair to dee. I wad hae raised sic a yelloch!”
“Where were you that morning?”
“Where was I, say you? I was in the house where my mistress was, sitting dozing an’ half sleeping in the kitchen. I thought aye she would be setting out every minute, for twa hours.”
“And, when you went home, what did you find?”
“What found we? Be my sooth, we found a broken lock, an’ toom kists.”
“Relate some of the particulars, if you please.”
“Sir, the thieves didna stand upon particulars: they were halesale dealers in a’ our best wares.”
“I mean, what passed between your mistress and you on the occasion?”
“What passed, say ye? O, there wasna muckle: I was in a great passion, but she was dung doitrified a wee. When she gaed to put the key i’ the door, up it flew to the fer wa’. ‘Bless ye, jaud, what’s the meaning o’ this?’ quo she. ‘Ye hae left the door open, ye tawpie!’ quo she. ‘The ne’er o’ that I did,’ quo I, ‘or may my shakel bane never turn another key.’ When we got the candle lightit, a’ the house was in a hoad-road. ‘Bessy, my woman,’ quo she, ‘we are baith ruined and undone creatures.’ ‘The deil a bit,’ quo I; ‘that I deny positively. H’mh! to speak o’ a lass o’ my age being ruined and undone! I never had muckle except what was within a good jerkin, an’ let the thief ruin me there wha can.
“Do you remember aught else that your mistress said on the occasion? Did you hear her blame any person?”
“O, she made a gread deal o’ grumphing an’ groaning about the misfortune, as she ca’d it, an’ I think she said it was a part o’ the ruin, wrought by the Ringans, or some sic name. ‘They’ll hae’t a’! They’ll hae’t a’!’ cried she, wringing her hands; ‘a’! they’ll hae’ a’, an’ hell wi’t, an’ they’ll get them baith.’ ‘Aweel, that’s aye some satisfaction,’ quo I.”
“Whom did she mean by the Ringans, do you know?”
“I fancy they are some creatures that she has dreamed about, for I think there canna be as ill folks living as she ca’s them.”
“Did you never hear say that the prisoner at the bar there, Mrs. Calvert, or Bell Calvert, was the robber of her house; or that she was one of the Ringans?”
“Never. Somebody tauld her lately that ane Bell Calvert robbed her house, but she disna believe it. Neither do I.”
“What reasons have you for doubting it?”
“Because it was nae woman’s fingers that broke up the bolts an’ the locks that were torn open that night.”
“Very pertinent, Bessy. Come then within the bar, and look, at these