The dark room of Lovat's main hall is dimly lit only by some spare candles and the glow of the fireplace. Purposefully so. Servants slip in and out of shadows like ghosts as they serve up a sumptuous meal. Venison haunches crackle on metal plate. Steamed wine flows into goblets. Meat pies ooze their juices onto wood. And even a steaming pudding of Haggis is knifed open with aplomb. Exotic fruit litters the table. Pineapples, oranges, and pomegranates. In the midst of this warm feast, a cold cackle rises up as Lord Lovat erupts in astonished laughter. "Good God, what a tale my friend. It could scarcely be true?"

"It is," Duncan adds in an amusing tone. "And he fought the rest of the battle with his trews about his ankles. And was more the terror for it."

"Wonderful, my boy. A sight to see...or perhaps not," Lovat adds dryly, relishing one of Duncan's tales of adventure.

They laugh except Dr. Gray. As if pained to do so, or amused out of fashion, he manages only an insincere upward turn of his lips. "Yes, amusing," he says before changing the subject, as if daring it to be brought up. "Your Lordship, Mr. Hamilton I know is anxious to discuss the whereabouts of Lord Sutherland's son."

Lovat's head goes back a bit, as if in faint recollection. "Yes, yes...but in that matter I am afraid I can be of little help."

Duncan seems perplexed. Why are we sitting here if not. Some newer game was afoot. "And how is that? It seems that you are aware of the comings and goings of a great many, my Lord."

As Lovat is about to speak, he coughs, but tries to contain it. He is successful in a way that suggests he has done this before. And with a regularity. "Oh, only perhaps the one's who wish to make themselves known to us," he finally manages to say.

There is a moment of perplexed silence from Duncan. Dr. Gray notices of course, and answers a bit more fully. "Those who do not keep to our law."

The couple note the very slightest emphasis on the word "our." "Our law." Not the law of the land. Or of local adhered tradition not set down on paper. Or even the general thoughts and notions of any civilized society. But literally, "our" law.

"There are countless numbers who pass this way, it being on the road not only to holy Whithorn, but beyond to Carlisle and England. It would be quite beyond this old memory of mine to recall one man," says Lovat somewhat wearily.

"If as you say, this son was on pilgrimage to Whithorn," adds the doctor. "Perhaps it would be best to be off..." he says. The pause subtle but deliberate. Duncan and Elspeth look hard at the cool physician. Waiting to test his meaning, and resolve. "...to Whithorn," he finally adds. And seems to delight with his own sense of manufactured drama.

Elspeth has had quite enough of this. "We will see to that when our business here is finished. After all, we've had but a meal, some pleasant talk, and little else."

The physician's eyes flash to Elspeth admiringly. But Lovat tries to correct his clearly encouragable associate. "Dr. Gray is surely just impatient that you should find your friend as quickly as may be."

Duncan responds diplomatically. The mission cannot be allowed to end so abruptly. There were strange forces at work here. And it would be foolish to show his hand now. Especially as it was clearly empty. "Of course," he says. And nothing more.

"What will you do now?" Lovat asks. Knowing there is little to be done.

"I will look about the town and talk to the villagers. They are more apt to remember strangers passing."

"I feel I must warn you that the local townsfolk hereabouts can be a suspicious lot, and not likely to be forthcoming. A natural contrariness, but the lay of the land I am afraid," Lovat says in manner both matter of fact. And apparently true enough.

"They seemed to be quite forthcoming this afternoon," Elspeth says with a slight contemptuous tone. Lovat seems perplexed. What could she mean?

"The business with Dalrymple and his thieving son," the doctor clarifies.

"Ah yes...an unfortunate affair. Murdered an innocent Englishman -- if there can be such a thing," the old man responds with a slight chuckle. Again to cover a cough.

"They were not only forthcoming, my Lord, but with a venom I have scarcely seen before," Elspeth says with no attempt to hide her expression or meaning.

Lovat shows the slightest of exasperated twinges in his lips. "You must understand my dear, that when people trust in their neighbors, they are outraged naturally enough when they are betrayed -- and murdered. After all, what is more important than ones trust?"

"We have had our eye on those two for some short occasion," Gray adds. "It was not the first time for them I am quite sure."

Duncan doesn't care for that. There was more at work here he reckoned. "They seemed genuine in their defense," he says.

"Who would not be under the circumstances," the doctor responds with an incredulous smile. What a question. And what other answer. After a moments pause adding darkly, "Wouldnt you?"

"Duncan, if you may allow me to call you that," Lovat asks solemnly, clearly meant to interrupt Elspeth, aggrieved at the physicians threatening coda, and ready to strike. "This is a wild land. Lonely stretches for sharp eyed highway-men, coves rife with smugglers and pirates. Unconstrained bands of broken men riding out on bloody feud. Great families at war for generations. And often for the mere pleasure of it. And though we are diligent as we must be in seeing that those who break the law are brought to swift justice, the nature of the place can be a temptation for those with a will. And temptation can be infectious even to those without."

"Like an illness?" Elspeth says. And the room falls silent for a long moment before their host responds.

"Yes. Exactly," the old man says. But then, as if a swelling in his chest, rising up to his throat, he coughs. Hard. And a trickle of blood, just a speck appears at the edge of livery brown lips.