Violet Jacob > Flemington

WATTIE HAS THEORIES
203
ings; there were troubles boiling in his mind that
he had kept behind his teeth so long as his tongue
was under control. Wattie wondered what was
all this talk of Lord Balnillo’s brother. It seemed
as if there were some secret between this man,
suspected, as he well knew, of being an active
rebel, and Flemington. Had it been light, Wattie
would have tried to get at the papers that
Archie had spoken of as being on him when
they met, for these might give him some clue
to the mystery. He sat in the dark leaning
against the wall of the barn, his arms tightly
folded across his great chest, his lips pursed, his
gaze bent on the restless figure that he could just
distinguish.
All at once Archie sat up.
“ Where are you ?” he asked in a high, strained
voice.
“ A’m here,” replied the beggar.
“ Is it you, Logie ?” exclaimed Flemington.
“ It’s mysel’.”
Wattie smoothed the roughness out of his
accent as best he could. The other seemed to
be hovering on the brink of consciousness. He
sank back.
“ It is not Logie,” he said; “ but you can tell
him ”
Wattie leaned forward and laid his broad palm
firmly and very gently on his shoulder.
“ What’ll a’ tell him ?” said he.
Flemington turned towards him and groped
about with his hot hand.