fices for Patsy's sake, but none, he thought, such
great ones as he. Still, so it was nominated in the bond. And, touched
by a memory, he took out his Shakespeare and read the "Merchant of
Venice" till he fell asleep.

The candle had burned itself out when he awoke. The early rose of a
coming day was looking in at the top of the blinds. He heard the rattle
of pebbles tossed against the half-closed wooden shutter. He opened, and
there, pale as a spectre, stood Eben McClure. His teeth were chattering,
so Stair made haste to let him in. He gave him a strong "four fingers"
dram of Angouleme brandy, before making him roll himself up in a blanket
and lie down in his warm place. Stair would be cook for one morning.

He did not disturb the sleeper when Patsy came down, smiling and happy,
with another day of peaceful pleasure before her in their Rath or Isle
of the Fairy Folk.

"Eben McClure needed to send a message to his uncle," he said lightly,
"so he swam across with Whitefoot, and being chilled when he got back, I
gave him a dose of spirits and made him go to bed."

Patsy made no remark. She had accepted Eben as a fixture in their
_menage_, and took no further concern about the matter. But Stair looked
out many times at the green trenches closing in the land entrance to the
isle, and even as he looked, it seemed that during the night the
parallels had crept down a little nearer to high-water mark.

If so, Eben the Spy was right, and for Patsy's sake their precautions
had not been taken a moment too soon. The sooner the _Good Intent_ was
on the spot the better.

CHAPTER XLI

THE BATTLE OF THE CAUSEWAY

Patsy was a prison-breaker. She had not only resisted but defied lawful
authority. She had broken "with the armed hand" into one of his
Majesty's defended prisons. She had taken out men awaiting trial for
capital offences, and to finish all neatly, she or her followers had
burned the Castle of Stranryan.

As for Stair, the counts on his indictment were as the sands by the
seashore for multitude. There was no doubt that the sappers would earn
the thanks of their superiors, of the whole Board of Excise and of the
Office of Recruitment for the two services by handing over the two who
had so long terrorized the best efforts of their agents in Galloway.
Eben, as a thief and a traitor to his salt, would be an additional
prize. Surely all this was worth working and waiting for. So at least
thought Colonel Laurence,