He had, he continued, sent a note to Bailie Nicol Jarvie, the other correspondent of the house in Glasgow. But, as he said, "If the civil house in the Gallowgate used him thus, what was to be expected from the cross-grained old crab-stock in the Salt Market?"
It had fallen out even as he had expected. Bailie Nicol Jarvie had not so much as answered his letter, though it had been put into his hand as he was on his way to church that morning.
Hardly were the words out of Owen's mouth, when from below came the voice of Dougal the turnkey, evidently urging Frank's guide to conceal himself.
"Gang upstairs and hide behind the Sassenach gentleman's bed. Ay, ay--coming--coming!"
The Highlander hastily entered Owen's cell, and, stripping off his heavy coat, stood at bay, evidently gathering himself for a leap at the officers, should it indeed prove to be the provost, magistrates, and guard of the city of Glasgow, as Dougal believed. It was obvious that he meant to spring right at any who might be seeking to apprehend him. But instead of a guard with fixed bayonets, it was only a good-looking young woman in kilted petticoats holding a lantern in her hand, who ushered in a magistrate, stout, bob-wigged, bustling, and breathless. At the sight of his face Frank's conductor instantly drew back and resumed the muffling cloak which hid the lower part of his features.
The chief captain of the jail now showed himself at the door, having descended hastily to wait on the great man. But the Bailie's anger was huge against all and sundry.
"A bonny thing, Captain Stanchells," he cried, "that I, a magistrate of the city, should have been kept half an hour knocking as hard for entrance into the tolbooth as the poor creatures within knock to get out! And what, pray, is the meaning of this--strangers in the jail after lock-up time? I will look after this, Stanchells, depend upon it. Keep the door locked. By and by I will speak with these gentlemen. But first, I must have a talk with an old acquaintance here. Mr. Owen, Mr. Owen, how's all with you, man?"
"Well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie," said poor Owen, "but sore afflicted in spirit."
"Ay, ay--no doubt--no doubt," said the Bailie, briskly, "but we are all subject to a downcome, and it comes hard on those that have held their heads high. But I have not come out at twelve o'clock of a Sabbath night to cast up to an unfortunate man his backslidings. That was never Bailie Nicol Jarvie's way, nor yet was it his father the deacon's before him. Why, man, even in the Kirk I was thinking on your letter. And after supper I sat yawning wide enough to swallow St. Enoch's Kirk, till twelve of the clock struck. Then I took a bit look at my ledger just to see how matters stood between us. Syne I called up Mattie and bade her light the lamp and convoy me down to the tolbooth. I have entry here at any hour of the night and day, and so had my father before me, God bless him!"