nced me that at least he had been no party to the
abduction, which had probably, and wisely so, been confided to no one
beyond Martin and the officials of the secret society.

"The young leddy, Mr Gorman's daughter, carried off!" and he indulged
in a long whistle. "I always said his honour would get into trouble
with a kittle girl like that."

"Hold your tongue, you scoundrel," shouted I, "unless you want it
crammed down your throat, and tell me the ship's name and her port."

"No offence, sir," said the honest landlord, taken aback by my anger,
and by the gleam of the pistol which I set down on the table--"no
offence, sir. She was the brig _Scheldt_ from Rotterdam, a well-found
craft that's been this way before with messages from the Irish in
Holland to those at home."

With this I made once more for the Hall, where I found the household up,
and in a state of anxious expectation. When they heard my story, great
was the distress of the lady of the house to discover how she, in whose
charge Miss Kit had been left, had been imposed upon. She implored me
to wait till Mr Shannon returned from Knockowen; but as it was doubtful
when that would be, such delay seemed useless.

Before I left I wrote a letter to Mr Gorman giving him all the
particulars I could. He would no doubt receive an official notice from
the rebels, naming their conditions for restoring their hostage. But so
cowardly and shambling a creature had this father become, that I doubted
very much whether he would risk much even to recover his child.

I then returned once more to the inn, where already the news of the
night's adventure had attracted a group of gossips. The landlord seeing
me, took me aside and handed me a paper.

"Here's a song of another tune," said he. "It was left by the Dutch
skipper, and may be news to some of you."

I read it. It was a proclamation to the people of Ireland, couched in
bombastic language, and stating that the hour of deliverance was at
hand. A foreign fleet was about to descend on our northern coasts. Any
day now the signal might be given for Ireland to rise. All was ready,
and trusty leaders would accompany the friendly fleet. A strong blow
well struck would end Ireland's ills for ever. And so on.

"What do I want with this?" said I, giving back the paper. "Give it to
those who want it. I've had enough of the Dutch for one night."

And saddling my horse I started, in what sort of humour my readers ma