"It's all right," said Matlier, "I know that knock. It's James Bigger, a safe man."
He left the room and returned with a young man whom he introduced to Donald Ward.
"We were just talking about the riot," said Donald. "What's your opinion about it, Mr. Bigger?"
"There are five houses wrecked," said Bigger, "and every one of them the house of a man in sympathy with reform and liberty and the Union."
"They were well informed," said Donald. "They knew what they were at, and where to go."
"They say," said Bigger, "that the leaders of the different parties had papers in their hands with directions on them. They were seen looking at them in the streets."
"I'd like to put my hand on one of those papers," said Donald.
Neal lay quiet, but wide awake. The conversation interested him too much to allow him to sleep. Twice he tried to speak, but each time Peg Macllrea, determined now that he was under her care to keep him quiet, put her hand over his mouth. At last he succeeded in asserting himself in spite of her.
"I saw James Finlay," he said, "along with a party of the soldiers going up this street."
The three men at the table turned to him. Donald seemed about to cross-question him when Peg Macllrea spoke.
"Is it a bit of the soger's paper you're wantin'? Here's for you."
She fumbled in the pocket of her skirt and drew out a crumpled scrap of paper.
"I snapped it out of his hand in the kitchen. It was for grabbing it that he catched me by the hair o' the head. I saw him glowerin' at it as soon as ever he came intil the light."
Donald Ward took it from her hand and read--
"The house of Felix Matier, an inn at the far end of North Street, to be known easily by the sign of Dumouriez which hangs before the door. Felix Matier is + + +."
He passed it without comment to Matier, who read it and laughed.
"They have me marked with three crosses," he said. "I'm dangerous. But what do they mean by it. How do they come to know so much about me?
"'Ken ye aught of Captain Grose Igo and ago. Is he amang friends or foes? Iram, coram, dago.'
"Who set the dragoons on you?" said Donald. "That's the question."
"By God, then, it's easily answered," said Matier. "I'll give it to you in the words of the poet--
"'Letters four do form his name. He let them loose and cried Halloo! To him alone the praise is due.'