urage of your
rascality. I shall like you none the worse. Where have you been all this
time?"

"Well," said the man, "that's telling. But I know you, Stair Garland,
and I have confidence in the man I am talking to--"

"If you abuse that confidence you are good enough to profess in me,"
said Stair with biting irony, "I beg you to remember that it will be at
a price!"

"I know--I know, sir," the man from Stonykirk moaned, "I should not
dream of deceiving you."

"Better not," said Stair, "you are on our side, you say. Take care and
do not forget again, or the next time you will not be missed. I shall go
spy-hunting myself."

"I swear to you--" he began, gasping at the thought.

"Do not swear--I would not believe you if you swore on a pile of Bibles
as high as Criffel!"

"But you would believe my uncle Kennedy on his bare word--"

"What uncle?" queried Stair, sharply. "D'ye mean Kennedy McClure of
Supsorrow?"

"The same, sir--you would believe him if he spoke a good word for me?"

Stair paused a moment before answering. The Laird of Supsorrow had lent
his horses for the carrying off of Patsy, but it was quite certain that
had he known the risks, or the purpose for which they were to be used,
he would have done nothing of the kind. He was too deep in the traffic,
and had used his money to finance too many cargoes.

"Yes," he answered at last, "I would take your uncle's word, if he says
that he will go bail that you mean to be faithful to us. But how can I
get that word--Kennedy McClure is in London."

"I know that," said the spy, "but I have been abiding all the winter at
Supsorrow with my uncle. He gave me shelter and aid when my life was in
danger on every side, when I was hunted like a partridge on the
mountains--"

"You would make an excellent preacher, Eben, and I dare say you are
telling the truth for once. If you have been with us--"

"Will this convince you, sir?" the spy broke in eagerly, seeing his
chance. "I have known all the winter that you and Mr. Wemyss were at the
Bothy. I knew that you met with Joseph from the Burnfoot, and that your
washing was done at Glenanmays. Now there is a reward out for Mr.
Julian, sir, and yet I have never breathed a word!"

"Lucky for you, or you would never have breathed another," growled
Stair, "but there does seem to be something in what you say. That
reward--your uncle must have had something to say against that. It must
have gone hard against the grain with