"No worse fate for a sinner," quoth he;
"none better for a saint."
Morris's temper was not amiable. He did not like the rascal. "Ay," said
he, "but many's the sinner has wished yon wish, and footed it from the
stocks to the gallows."
Bucklaw laughed up at him. It was not a pretty laugh, and his eyes were
insolent and hard. But that, changed almost on the instant. "A good
thrust, mighty Scot," he said. "Now what say you to a pasty, or a strip
of beef cut where the juice runs, and maybe the half of a broiled fowl?"
Morris, imperturbably deliberate, left the room to seek the kitchen.
Bucklaw got instantly to his feet. His eye took in every window and
door, and ran along the ceiling and the wall. There was a sudden click
in the wall before him. It was the door leading to the unused hallway,
which had not been properly closed and had sprung open. He caught up a
candle, ran over, entered the hallway, and gave a grunt of satisfaction.
He hastily and softly drew the bolts of the outer door, so that any one
might come in from the garden, then stepped back into the dining-room and
closed the panel tight behind him, remarking with delight that it had no
spring-lock, and could be opened from the hallway. He came back quickly
to the table, put down the candle, took his seat, stroked his chin with
his hook, and chuckled.
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