'That is correct,' Father said. 'We had the fellow in Kirkton of Muirend local lockup. I had him securely chained until some blackguard picked the lock the very same night.'
'Good,' Mr Cochrane surprised us both by saying.
'Good?' Father raised his eyebrows.
'We have been chasing Charleton for months. We suspect he is guilty of many things, from highway robbery under his alias of Galloping Bob, to fraudulent theft from rich widows under the guise of Captain Ferintosh, to mere whisky smuggling as Roaring Rab.'
I listened, wondering.
'I knew he was in this area,' Mr Cochrane said, 'yet I had no proof. He is as slippery as a bucketful of eels, so we have never had sufficient to convict him.'
'Do you have sufficient now?' Father asked.
Mr Cochrane would not be rushed. 'If you had taken
