Page 135 of A Rogue in Firelight
“Miss Graham! You cannot go back there!”
“Sir Hector is my father. I must see him.”
“Your father? Still, I should not—”
“And I am Lord Beaton’s sister,” Sorcha said. “This is urgent!” She pushed Ellison through the doorway as the clerk sputtered in protest.
“Mr. Robertson, I will see to this,” Corbie said, and followed them.
Ellison hurried beside Sorcha looking at brass plaques on the doors. Finding “The Rt. Honorable Justice E. Jameson” and hearing muffled voices behind the door, she raised a gloved fist to rap.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“This had betterbe important, Sir Hector. Mr. Cameron, I know you.” Seated behind a tall mahogany desk, Jameson peered at the men standing before him. Scowling over his spectacles, he offered no one a chair. He peered at Ronan.
“You look familiar, sir.”
“My lord, this is John Ronan MacGregor, an advocate,” Hugh explained. “Recently named Lord Darrach.”
“Ah! Heard about that. What do you want? It is late. I am only allowing this because you are with the deputy lord provost. Even so, I want my tea, so be quick.”
“Lord Jameson, thank you for seeing us,” Sir Hector said. “Darrach has a matter to submit to the court. If you please, perhaps you could hear a preliminary discussion.”
“Is this in your bailiwick, Sir Hector?” he demanded.
“It appears to be a matter of the constabulary, sir.”
“Lord Justice,” Ronan began, “Mr. Cameron and I intend to submit an application for warrant of liberation.”
“For whom? Now that I think of it, I have heard of you, sir. Something about Edinburgh dungeons. But you look liberated to me.” Jameson scowled at him.
“My lord, Darrach was incarcerated briefly,” Sir Hector said. “And pardoned several weeks ago. I oversaw the matter. It is documented and approved.”
“A misunderstanding, was it? Tell me why I should listen to any of you. We are all busy at the moment.”
“Aye, my lord. I do not know what Darrach and Cameron have in mind. I will vouch for them, if not for the matter of concern, which I have not heard in full.”
Ronan regarded him in surprise and murmured his thanks.
“An interesting recommendation. Someone explain it,” Jameson said.
Hugh produced a packet of papers from his pocket and set it on the desk. “My lord, here is a warrant of liberation under the Habeas Corpus Act of Scotland of 1701.”
“Who do you want to liberate and why?” Jameson asked as he opened the packet.
“Arthur Stewart, Lord Linhope, and Sir Iain MacInnes,” Ronan answered. “They were arrested under irregular circumstances and are being held in Calton Jail.”
“Then you are petitioning for two writs of habeas corpus.”
“Aye, my lord,” Ronan said.
“Why should we release them? This could be a ploy of one cohort to free the others.” Jameson turned the pages, then glanced up as a knock sounded on the door. “What is it now!” he bellowed.
Ronan looked around as the door opened and a young man peered inside. “Pardon, my lord. These people insist on seeing you.”
“I have already been disturbed once! Not again!”
“Uh, my lord, this gentleman says he is Sir Hector’s secretary. This young lady says she is Sir Hector’s daughter, and the other says she is Justice Beaton’s sister. Sir, they are quite insistent.”
