"Captain Flett," said the bailie excitedly, "I want the lad
Ericson; where is he?"
"'Deed I can't tell you that, your honour," replied Flett. "I have
been waiting for him here mysel' all the day."
"Just as I expected," said the bailie, with evident annoyance; "the
young rascal has escaped. When did you last see him, captain?"
"I saw him yestreen, sir. But was it anything of importance you're
wanting the lad for?"
"Anything of importance! Ay, is it of importance! For, know you
this, Captain Flett, the lad's nothing but a murderer, a murderer
in cold blood!"
"Impossible!" ejaculated the skipper. "When heard you of the lad
harming body or beast? But who is it that's murdered, bailie?"
"Colin Lothian, the gaberlunzie," replied the magistrate.
"Man, you astonish me," exclaimed Flett. "Poor auld Lothian! And
when did the thing happen?"
Bailie Duke then told how during that morning a party of men had
been sent up from the town to the moor to search for the lost Thora
Kinlay. They did not find the girl. But Jack Paterson and another
fisherman, while crossing a very lonely part of the moor, had
discovered a poor dog, whose pitiful whining had drawn them to the
spot. The animal was at once recognized as the dog that had always
been seen at the heels of the wandering beggar, and it stood
shivering in the cold snow that had gathered there in a deep
wreath.
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