er part, modified by a possessive
glance or two from her fearless black eyes--glances for which Stair
watched more alertly than he had ever gazed into the night for the
signal flashes from the _Good Intent_.

But now he, Stair the doer, was without while Patsy was within with
Louis the dreamer. At this time Stair had more liberty to come and go.
He could now spend some of his days at Glenanmays helping his brothers
and sisters in any emergency. The attack upon the Duke of Lyonesse had
been hushed up--so far, that is, as any official inquiry was concerned.
The matter was not even referred to in Parliament.

It had been announced that the Prince had been hurt somewhat seriously
in a carriage accident, frequent in travelling through such wild lands
as Ireland and the south of Scotland. People averred that he would find
himself safer on the Mall or climbing the slopes of Primrose Hill.

And meanwhile McCarthy, the Irish doctor who attended him, said nothing
about the gunshot wound in the thigh which caused the Duke to walk with
a slight limp ever after.

Stair, of course, knew nothing of this in detail. But he was keenly
alive to the results. With the disappearance of McClure the Spy the
press-gang work was suspended for a time, and, though a party of light
horse lay in Captain Laurence's old quarters at Stranryan, they confined
their trips to sending recruiting parties in an above-board way to the
fairs and market towns.

At the end of harvest they would doubtless make a good haul among the
foolish young men who had been at the southern reaping. These, having
spent their cash in Carlisle or Dumfries, would be afraid to face their
people at home, and might be expected to take his Majesty's shilling
with alacrity.

Without the support of the military, led by so experienced a man as Eben
McClure, with local knowledge and connections, the Preventive men
displayed no initiative, and seldom ventured far from their barracks on
the cliff. They might surround an alehouse in a village with all the
pomp and circumstance which shows zeal and is put down to the
Supervisor's credit as an efficient officer. But word was always sent
before, so that everything dutiable might be removed in the night.

So fearless did the Free Traders become that not a week passed without a
successful run at the Waterfoot or in the Mays Bay, and such vessels as
the _Star of Hope_ from the Texel and the _William Groot_ (everywhere
known as the "Billy