t believe that," said the burgomaster. "A messenger arrived at
her inn with a letter early yesterday, and she and the lady left, it is
said by boat, soon after. Do you deny that you sent that message?"

"I do."

"Do you deny that you know who did?"

"I do."

"Do you deny that you know where they have gone?"

"I do," retorted I; "and, if it please your worship, what has all this
to do with whether I am a spy or not?"

"This, that a man who has lied in one particular is not to be believed
in others. The same reason which induced you to pass yourself as a
Frenchman may explain your refusal to say where the woman McQuilkin has
gone. Her house is known to be a resort of spies and foreigners of
doubtful character, and your connection with her, and the abduction of
the young lady, and your refusal to give any information, are strongly
against you."

I am not learned in Dutch logic, and was not convinced now; but
apparently my judges were, for I was ordered to be handed over to the
military authorities of Amsterdam as a prisoner of war, suspected of
being a spy, for them to deal with me as they might consider best.

Before I departed, the burgomaster handed me back my mother's pocket-
book, the contents of which he had had translated, and which he was good
enough to say appeared not to be incriminating. My pistol he detained
for the service of the Dutch republic.

The military authorities at Amsterdam were far too busy to attend to my
affairs. They were in the midst of equipping an armament to land on
Irish shores and strike at England with the cat's-paw of an Irish
rebellion. The place was full of Irishmen, some of whom honestly enough
looked to see their country redeemed by Dutch saviours; others, hungry
hangers-on, seeking what profit to themselves they could secure from the
venture. A few faces, even during the short time I was kept waiting in
quarters, seemed familiar to me as of men I had seen in former days in
the secret conclaves at my father's cabin or under his honour's roof,
and one or two I was certain I had seen that day in Dublin not long
since when I was present at a meeting of the United Irishmen.

Little I knew then or for months after that among these very faces, had
I looked long enough, I might have seen that of Tim, my brother, or
(must I say now?) my brother that was, before he became Tim Gorman of
Kilgorman.

But, as I said, the authorities were too busy to inquire into my case,
and,