'He did not,' he observed, 'like to be personally responsible for articles which seemed of considerable value, and had doubtless been acquired by the most nefarious practices.' He then examined the paper in which the purse had been wrapt up.

It was the back of a letter addressed to V.Brown, Esquire, but the rest of the address was torn away.

The landlady, now as eager to throw light upon the criminal's escape as she had formerly been desirous of withholding it, for the miscellaneous contents of the purse argued strongly to her mind that all was not right,--Mrs.Mac-Candlish, I say, now gave Glossin to understand that her position and hostler had both seen the stranger upon the ice that day when young Hazlewood was wounded.
Our readers' old acquaintance Jock Jabos was first summoned, and admitted frankly that he had seen and conversed upon the ice that morning with a stranger, who, he understood, had lodged at the Gordon Arms the night before.
'What turn did your conversation take ?' said Glossin.
'Turn?
ou, we turned nae gate at a', but just keep it straight forward upon the ice like.' 'Well, but what did ye speak about ?' 'Ou, he just asked questions like ony ither stranger,' answered the postilion, possessed, as it seemed, with the refractory and uncommunicative spirit which had left his mistress.
'But about what ?' said Glossin.
'Ou, just about the folk that was playing at the curling, and about auld Jock Stevenson that was at the cock, and about the leddies, and sic like.' 'What ladies?
and what did he ask about them, Jock ?' said the interrogator.
'What leddies?
Ou, it was Miss Jowlia Mannering and Miss Lucy Bertram, that ye ken fu' weel yoursell, Mr.Glossin; they were walking wi' the young Laird of Hazlewood upon the ice.' 'And what did you tell him about them ?' demanded Glossin.
'Tut, we just said that was Miss Lucy Bertram of Ellangowan, that should ance have had a great estate in the country; and that was Miss Jowlia Mannering, that was to be married to young Hazlewood, see as she was hinging on his arm.

We just spoke about our country clashes like; he was a very frank man.' 'Well, and what did he say in answer ?' 'Ou, he just stared at the young leddies very keen-like, and asked if it was for certain that the marriage was to be between Miss Mannering and young Hazlewood; and I answered him that it was for positive and absolute certain, as I had an undoubted right to say sae; for my third cousin Jean Clavers (she's a relation o' your ain, Mr.Glossin, ye wad ken Jean lang syne ?), she's sib to the houskeeper at Woodbourne, and she's tell'd me mair than ance that there was naething could be mair likely.' 'And what did the stranger say when you told him all this ?' said Glossin.
'Say ?' echoed the postilion, 'he said naething at a'; he just stared at them as they walked round the loch upon the ice, as if he could have eaten them, and he never took his ee aff them, or said another word, or gave another glance at the bonspiel, though there was the finest fun amang the curlers ever was seen; and he turned round and gaed aff the loch by the kirkstile through Woodbourne fir-plantings, and we saw nae mair o' him.' 'Only think,' said Mrs.Mac-Candlish, 'what a hard heart he maun hae had, to think o' hurting the poor young gentleman in the very presence of the leddy he was to be married to!' 'O, Mrs.Mac-Candlish,' said Glossin, 'there's been many cases such as that on the record; doubtless he was seeking revenge where it would be deepest and sweetest.' 'God pity us!' said Deacon Bearcliff, 'we're puir frail creatures when left to oursells! Ay, he forgot wha said, "Vengeance is mine, and I will repay it."' 'Weel, aweel, sirs,' said Jabos, whose hard-headed and uncultivated shrewdness seemed sometimes to start the game when others beat the bush--'weel, weel, ye may be a' mista'en yet; I'll never believe that a man would lay a plan to shoot another wi' his ain gun.

Lord help ye, I was the keeper's assistant down at the Isle mysell, and I'll uphaud it the biggest man in Scotland shouldna take a gun frae me or I had weized the slugs through him, though I'm but sic a little feckless body, fit for naething but the outside o' a saddle and the fore-end o' a poschay; na, na, nae living man wad venture on that.