"
But I confess it was difficult for me to feel cheerful at that
moment. Indeed, when the prison doors closed upon me, when I found
myself alone in my dark cell, I became dazed and stupid, and began
to think that perhaps after all I was the murderer that I had been
called. Yet what could it all mean? Colin Lothian murdered! My old
friend Colin Lothian!
Chapter XXXVIII. Accused Of Murder.
I need not prolong my narrative by telling you in what way I spent
that first night in the cold solitude of my prison cell, or by
recording the thoughts that occupied my mind through those long and
weary hours. My jailer, one Jimmy Macfarlane, an honest,
kind-hearted man, who had known my father, gave me a basin of hot
porridge before he locked me up for the night, and left with me, as
though by accident, a good, thick horse cloth to keep me warm.
Conscious of my innocence, and trusting in the justice of my
accusers, I slept well and soundly, nor did I awake until late on
the following morning, when the Sabbath light stole through the
crossbars of the little window, and the opening of the door aroused
me.
I heard Macfarlane speaking with some one.
"Ye'll find him in here, captain; but dinna stay ower long wi' him;
for, ye ken, I'm breakin' the rule in letting ye see the lad.
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