"
"It is so," the landlord agreed, heartily. "But you must no' be
forgetting that the Chambers brothers war book readers and
sellers before they war publishers. You are weel set up in life,
laddie, and Heriot's has pulled the warst of the burrs from your
tongue. I'm wanting to see Glenormiston."
"Mr. William Chambers is no' in. Mr. Robert is aye in, but he's
no' liking to be fashed about sma' things."
"I'll no' trouble him. It's the Lord Provost I'm wanting, on
ofeecial beesiness." He requested Sandy to ask Glenormiston, if
he came in, to come over to the Burgh court and spier for Mr.
Traill.
"It's no' his day to sit as magistrate, and he's no' like to go
unless it's a fair sairious matter."
"Ay, it is, laddie. It's a matter of life and death, I'm
thinking!" He smiled grimly, as it entered his head that he might
be driven to do violence to that meddling policeman. The yellow
gas-light gave his face such a sardonic aspect that Sandy turned
pale.
"Wha's death, man?"
Mr. Traill kept his own counsel, but at the door he turned:
"You'll no' be remembering the bittie terrier that lived in the
kirkyard?"
The light of boyhood days broke in Sandy's grin. "Ay, I'll no' be
forgetting the sonsie tyke. He was a deil of a dog to tak' on a
holiday. Is he still faithfu' to his dead master?"
"He is that; and for his faithfu'ness he's like to be dead
himsel'. The police are takin' up masterless dogs an' putting
them out o' the way.
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