‘I wasn’t,’ said Nettie, staring into the fire’s glow. ‘But my Rebecca had some mending she asked me to bring over for Isobel, help her out now folk aren’t so keen to have her fixing their clothes. Thought I may as well do it right away.’

Sorcha’s heart swelled. Nettie’s daughter was a good sort. There were plenty could do such work in Anster, never mind Rebecca herself; that she would seek out Isobel’s services was beyond kind. If only there were others who would do the same…

‘Anyhow,’ continued Nettie after taking a drink and smacking her lips. ‘I was coming up Cove Wynd when I heard the tramp of boots. I ducked into the graveyard and waited to see who it was from behind the wall.’

‘And?’

‘’Twas the Stuart brothers, along with four soldiers. They were escorting some men. One was that big bearded Englishman who roused the mob the night Janet died. I only ken that because, as they drew closer, I heard his cussing. He was livid. There were two other men I recognised as well. They added their insults to the Sassenach’s. They were incomers. But then I also saw the Dalzell lad and young Grayson Fleet.’ She paused. ‘I wondered what was happening until I saw them being taken into the Tolbooth. Looks like they’ve been arrested.’

Sorcha frowned. ‘The Englishman was one of the ringleaders the night Janet… Janet was killed. The others were involved. But they were by no means the only ones.’ She rubbed her chin.

‘Do you think it’s possible the council are finally seeking justice for our Janet?’ asked Nettie.

Sorcha shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Either that, or they’re being forced to. But if they’re arresting even some of the culprits, it means something’s afoot.’

‘Aye,’ said Nettie, sipping her whisky, staring at the fire. ‘But what?’

Sorcha didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to spoil the mood by sharing her suspicions that the men had only been arrested because Edinburgh had got involved. Her letter must have borne fruit and now the bailies were doing whatever they could to cover their cowardly backs.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Sorcha. ‘What does matter is that the reverend and the bailies have no reason to ever lock any of us up again.’

Nettie raised her glass. ‘Amen to that.’

Aware something was amiss, it wasn’t until Beatrix appeared at the harbour wall around midday the following day and called the fishwives over that Sorcha and Nettie learned what had happened.

‘Five lairds rode into town at first light and went straight to Bailie Cook’s house,’ said Beatrix breathlessly. ‘My William saw them with his own eyes.’ She was clearly bursting with news. ‘After that, they went to the Tolbooth.’