At the head of the table was a man of sinister aspect.

He had red hair and eyebrows, and a foxy, cunning face, and Harry guessed at once that he was in the presence of the Earl of Argyll--a man who, even more than the rest of his treacherous race, was hated and despised by loyal Scotchmen.

In all their history, a great portion of the Scottish nobles were ever found ready to take English gold, and to plot against their country.

But the Argylls had borne a bad pre-eminence even among these.

They had hunted Wallace, had hounded down Bruce, and had ever been prominent in fomenting dissensions in their country; the present earl was probably the coldest and most treacherous of his race.
"We are told," he said sternly to the prisoner, "that you are a follower of the man Charles; that you have been already engaged in plottings among the good citizens of London, and we shrewdly suspect that your presence here bodes no good to the state.