At length the train of his interrogatories reached Madge Wildfire, at whose name the magistrate and town-clerk exchanged significant glances.

If the fate of the Good Town had depended on her careful magistrate's knowing the features and dress of this personage, his inquiries could not have been more particular.

But Butler could say almost nothing of this person's features, which were disguised apparently with red paint and soot, like an Indian going to battle, besides the projecting shade of a curch, or coif, which muffled the hair of the supposed female.

He declared that he thought he could not know this Madge Wildfire, if placed before him in a different dress, but that he believed he might recognise her voice.
The magistrate requested him again to state by what gate he left the city.
"By the Cowgate Port," replied Butler.
"Was that the nearest road to Libberton ?" "No," answered Butler, with embarrassment; "but it was the nearest way to extricate myself from the mob." The clerk and magistrate again exchanged glances.
"Is the Cowgate Port a nearer way to Libberton from the Grassmarket than Bristo Port ?" "No," replied Butler; "but I had to visit a friend." "Indeed!" said the interrogator--"You were in a hurry to tell the sight you had witnessed, I suppose ?" "Indeed I was not," replied Butler; "nor did I speak on the subject the whole time I was at St.Leonard's Crags." "Which road did you take to St.Leonard's Crags ?" "By the foot of Salisbury Crags," was the reply.
"Indeed?
you seem partial to circuitous routes," again said the magistrate.

"Whom did you see after you left the city ?" One by one he obtained a description of every one of the groups who had passed Butler, as already noticed, their number, demeanour, and appearance; and, at length, came to the circumstance of the mysterious stranger in the King's Park.