He lifted his head from gazing down on the dark river.A man was approaching the bridge.He came from the awful city! Perhaps he wanted him! He fled along the bridge like a low-flying water-bird.
If another man had appeared at the other end, he would have got through between the rods, and thrown himself into the river.But there was no one to oppose his escape; and after following the road a little way up the river, he turned aside into a thicket of shrubs on the nearly precipitous bank, and sat down to recover the breath he had lost more from dismay than exertion.
The light grew.All at once he descried, far down the river, the steeples of the city.Alas! alas! there lay poor black Sambo, so dear to wee Sir Gibbie, motionless and covered with blood! He had two red mouths now, but was not able to speak a word with either!
They would carry him to a churchyard and lay him in a hole to lie there for ever and ever.Would all the good people be laid into holes and leave Gibbie quite alone? Sitting and brooding thus, he fell into a dreamy state, in which, brokenly, from here and there, pictures of his former life grew out upon his memory.Suddenly, plainer than all the rest, came the last time he stood under Mistress Croale's window, waiting to help his father home.The same instant, back to the ear of his mind came his father's two words, as he had heard them through the window--"Up Daurside.""Up Daurside!"--Here he was upon Daurside--a little way up too: he would go farther up.He rose and went on, while the great river kept flowing the other way, dark and terrible, down to the very door inside which lay Sambo with the huge gape in his big throat.
Meantime the murder came to the knowledge of the police, Mistress Croale herself giving the information, and all in the house were arrested.In the course of their examination, it came out that wee Sir Gibbie had gone to bed with the murdered man, and was now nowhere to be found.Either they had murdered him too, or carried him off.The news spread, and the whole city was in commotion about his fate.It was credible enough that persons capable of committing such a crime on such an inoffensive person as the testimony showed poor Sambo, would be capable also of throwing the life of a child after that of the man to protect their own.The city was searched from end to end, from side to side, and from cellar to garret.Not a trace of him was to be found--but indeed Gibbie had always been easier to find than to trace, for he had no belongings of any sort to betray him.No one dreamed of his having fled straight to the country, and search was confined to the city.
The murderers were at length discovered, tried, and executed.They protested their innocence with regard to the child, and therein nothing appeared against them beyond the fact that he was missing.
The result, so far as concerned Gibbie, was, that the talk of the city, where almost everyone knew him, was turned, in his absence, upon his history; and from the confused mass of hearsay that reached him, Mr.Sclater set himself to discover and verify the facts.For this purpose he burrowed about in the neighbourhoods Gibbie had chiefly frequented, and was so far successful as to satisfy himself that Gibbie, if he was alive, was Sir Gilbert Galbraith, Baronet;but his own lawyer was able to assure him that not an inch of property remained anywhere attached to the title.There were indeed relations of the boy's mother, who were of some small consequence in a neighbouring county, also one in business in Glasgow, or its neighbourhood, reported wealthy; but these had entirely disowned her because of her marriage.All Mr.Sclater discovered besides was, in a lumber-room next the garret in which Sir George died, a box of papers--a glance at whose contents showed that they must at least prove a great deal of which he was already certain from other sources.A few of them had to do with the house in which they were found, still known as the Auld Hoose o' Galbraith; but most of them referred to property in land, and many were of ancient date.If the property were in the hands of descendants of the original stock, the papers would be of value in their eyes; and, in any case, it would be well to see to their safety.Mr.Sclater therefore had the chest removed to the garret of the manse, where it stood thereafter, little regarded, but able to answer for more than itself.