It was my first care to go to George Street, which I reached (by good luck) as a boy was taking down the bank shutters.A man was conversing with him; he had white stockings and a moleskin waistcoat, and was as ill-looking a rogue as you would want to see in a day's journey.This seemed to agree fairly well with Rowley's SIGNALEMENT: he had declared emphatically (if you remember), and had stuck to it besides, that the companion of the great Lavender was no beauty.
Thence I made my way to Mr.Robbie's, where I rang the bell.Aservant answered the summons, and told me the lawyer was engaged, as I had half expected.
'Wha shall I say was callin'?' she pursued; and when I had told her 'Mr.Ducie,' 'I think this'll be for you, then?' she added, and handed me a letter from the hall table.It ran:
'DEAR MR.DUCIE, 'My single advice to you is to leave QUAM PRIMUM for the South.
Yours, T.ROBBIE.'
That was short and sweet.It emphatically extinguished hope in one direction.No more was to be gotten of Robbie; and I wondered, from my heart, how much had been told him.Not too much, I hoped, for I liked the lawyer who had thus deserted me, and I placed a certain reliance in the discretion of Chevenix.He would not be merciful; on the other hand, I did not think he would be cruel without cause.
It was my next affair to go back along George Street, and assure myself whether the man in the moleskin vest was still on guard.
There was no sign of him on the pavement.Spying the door of a common stair nearly opposite the bank, I took it in my head that this would be a good point of observation, crossed the street, entered with a businesslike air and fell immediately against the man in the moleskin vest.I stopped and apologised to him; he replied in an unmistakable English accent, thus putting the matter almost beyond doubt.After this encounter I must, of course, ascend to the top story, ring the bell of a suite of apartments, inquire for Mr.Vavasour, learn (with no great surprise) that he did not live there, come down again and, again politely saluting the man from Bow Street, make my escape at last into the street.
I was now driven back upon the Assembly Ball.Robbie had failed me.The bank was watched; it would never do to risk Rowley in that neighbourhood.All I could do was to wait until the morrow evening, and present myself at the Assembly, let it end as it might.But I must say I came to this decision with a good deal of genuine fright; and here I came for the first time to one of those places where my courage stuck.I do not mean that my courage boggled and made a bit of a bother over it, as it did over the escape from the Castle; I mean, stuck, like a stopped watch or a dead man.Certainly I would go to the ball; certainly I must see this morning about my clothes.That was all decided.But the most of the shops were on the other side of the valley, in the Old Town;
and it was now my strange discovery that I was physically unable to cross the North Bridge! It was as though a precipice had stood between us, or the deep sea had intervened.Nearer to the Castle my legs refused to bear me.
I told myself this was mere superstition; I made wagers with myself - and gained them; I went down on the esplanade of Princes Street, walked and stood there, alone and conspicuous, looking across the garden at the old grey bastions of the fortress, where all these troubles had begun.I cocked my hat, set my hand on my hip, and swaggered on the pavement, confronting detection.And I found I could do all this with a sense of exhilaration that was not unpleasing, and with a certain CRANERIE of manner that raised me in my own esteem.And yet there was one thing I could not bring my mind to face up to, or my limbs to execute; and that was to cross the valley into the Old Town.It seemed to me I must be arrested immediately if I had done so; I must go straight into the twilight of a prison cell, and pass straight thence to the gross and final embraces of the nightcap and the halter.And yet it was from no reasoned fear of the consequences that I could not go.I was unable.My horse baulked, and there was an end!
My nerve was gone: here was a discovery for a man in such imminent peril, set down to so desperate a game, which I could only hope to win by continual luck and unflagging effrontery! The strain had been too long continued, and my nerve was gone.I fell into what they call panic fear, as I have seen soldiers do on the alarm of a night attack, and turned out of Princes Street at random as though the devil were at my heels.In St.Andrew Square, I remember vaguely hearing some one call out.I paid no heed, but pressed on blindly.A moment after, a hand fell heavily on my shoulder, and I thought I had fainted.Certainly the world went black about me for some seconds; and when that spasm passed I found myself standing face to face with the 'cheerful extravagant,' in what sort of disarray I really dare not imagine, dead white at least, shaking like an aspen, and mowing at the man with speechless lips.And this was the soldier of Napoleon, and the gentleman who intended going next night to an Assembly Ball! I am the more particular in telling of my breakdown, because it was my only experience of the sort; and it is a good tale for officers.I will allow no man to call me coward; I have made my proofs; few men more.And yet I (come of the best blood in France and inured to danger from a child) did, for some ten or twenty minutes, make this hideous exhibition of myself on the streets of the New Town of Edinburgh.
With my first available breath I begged his pardon.I was of an extremely nervous disposition, recently increased by late hours; I could not bear the slightest start.
He seemed much concerned.'You must be in a devil of a state!'
said he; 'though of course it was my fault - damnably silly, vulgar sort of thing to do! A thousand apologies! But you really must be run down; you should consult a medico.My dear sir, a hair of the dog that bit you is clearly indicated.A touch of Blue Ruin, now?
