of the dull waves without
disturbed the gloomy stillness of the place.

The big kitchen, already darkening, was deserted. Everything was as I
had left it two nights ago.

I lost no time in lifting the board and depositing in the recess below
the hearth my brief message for Tim:--

"Beware, Tim! You are marked down, and there's martial law after you.
Informers are at work, and the names are all known. Keep on Fanad. I
serve on H.M.S. _Diana_.--Barry."

This done, and the board replaced, I was about to retire so as to be in
time at Knockowen, when, taking a last glance round the gaunt room, my
eye was attracted by the flutter of a paper pinned to the woodwork of
one of the windows.

It contained a few words roughly scrawled with the end of a charred
stick. This is what it said, and as I read my heart gave a great bound
within me:--

"She's safe at Malin. The Duchman sails on the flud to-night.--Finn."

This, if it meant anything, meant foul play, and crushing the paper into
my pocket, I lost not a moment in regaining my boat and making all sail
for Knockowen.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

WHAT I FOUND AT MALIN.

It was nine o'clock when I came alongside his honour's jetty, and once
more demanded entrance of the sentry. This time I was received even
more suspiciously than in the morning, and was allowed to wait for
nearly half-an-hour before it was decided that I might safely be
admitted into the premises. For this irritating delay I had probably to
thank the impatience with which I met the sentinel's questions; for when
at last I found myself at the house, his honour met me with an inquiry
why I had delayed my coming to so late an hour.

"It is four long leagues to Malin," said he, "and on such a road you are
not likely to be there before midnight, when the inn will be closed.
However, get Martin to saddle Tara for you. I wish Miss Kit and her
maid to start for Derry at daybreak."

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"At the house of Mr Shannon, the magistrate who is with me here."

"And where is she to be taken in Derry?"

"To the Foyle Inn, where she will find instructions from me as to her
journey to Dublin."

"Have you the pass?"

He handed me a paper, which read:--

"The bearer rides on my orders. Pass him, and two ladies.--Monsieur
Gorman of Knockowen."

I was turning to the stable when he called me back.

"Remember my advice of this morning. Don't return here if you value
your liber