Fiction > Book editions > London, 1886 - Kidnapped

THE   HOUSE  OF   FEAR.                            183
young man answering nothing; only the wife, at the
name of hanging, throwing her apron over her face and
sobbing out louder than before.
This was all wretched for a stranger like myself to
hear and see; and I was right glad when Alan returned,
looking like himself in his fine French clothes, though
(to be sure) they were now grown almost too battered
and withered to deserve the name of fine. I was then
taken out in my turn by another of the sons, and given
that change of clothing of which I had stood so long
in need, and a pair of Highland brogues made of deer-
leather, rather strange at first, but after a little practice
very easy to the feet.
By the time I came back Alan must have told his
story; for it seemed understood that I was to fly with
him, and they were all busy upon our equipment. They
gave us each a sword and pistols, though I professed my
inability to use the former; and with these, and some
ammunition, a bag of oatmeal, an iron pan, and a bottle
of right French brandy, we were ready for the heather.
Money, indeed, was lacking. I had about two guineas
left; Alan's belt having been despatched by another
hand, that trusty messenger had no more than seven-
teen-pence to his whole fortune; and as for James, it
appears he had brought himself so low with journeys to
Edinburgh and legal expenses on behalf of the tenants,
that he could only scrape together three-and-fivepence-
halfpenny, the most of it in coppers.
"This'll no do," said Alan.