mself to a little fir-wood which commanded the
entrance of Ladykirk, the avenue, the flowery borders of the parterres,
the laurel copses, and the clumps of rhododendron through which the
white statues peered.

McClure was not long in finding out that Whitefoot had one favourite
mode of entering Ladykirk policies, a way contrived by himself. At the
corner of the vegetable garden the wall ran to the edge of a ha-ha and
there stopped short. A beech hedge met the masonry at right angles, and
just at the point of juncture the hedge thinned off a little. Whitefoot
had observed this, and was in the habit of racing like an arrow towards
it, and taking a leap across the ha-ha. Then, with his nose close to the
ground, he passed through the hole in the beech-hedge with undiminished
speed, skirted a flourishing rhubarb plantation, and so emerged into the
shaded path which led directly to the back door of the house.

As Eben McClure lay and watched, a plan flashed into his mind. By it he
saw that he would put the son of the King, and with him my Lord of
Wargrove, under everlasting obligations--such obligations as could not
be denied or escaped. Scottish law did not treat the abduction of
heiresses against their will in a gentle spirit, and before the northern
courts the son of the King would be in no better case than the sons of
Rob Roy, with whose exploits in this direction a taste for the reading
of chap-books had made him familiar.

McClure had not the least doubt that, against his own judgment, Lord
Wargrove had been compelled to call at Castle Raincy to ask for the loan
of a carriage and horses, only to receive a rebuff from the haughty old
Jacobite who held rule there.

Clearly, then, the princely party at Abbey Burnfoot must want assistance
very badly, and would be willing to pay very highly for it. He, Eben
McClure, was the man who would supply all that was necessary. He felt
already that modest pride which comes to an intelligent, fore-thoughted
man among a people of no initiative. He would take the whole matter into
his own care. Single-handed he would carry it through, but at a price, a
price to be arranged beforehand.

Now Eben McClure of Stonykirk, though held a traitor by the countryside,
came of no mean parentage. The McClures are a strong clan, and the
running of many cargoes has made them well-to-do. The day of their
desperate deeds is over. They prefer the cattle-market and the tussle of
wit with wit, matching