ldn't mind the sergeant," he said, "cute and all as he thinks
himself, I wouldn't mind him. It's the strange gentleman I'm thinking
of."

The _Tortoise_ stole round the end of the quay while he spoke. Kinsella
eyed her. He noticed at once that Priscilla was steering with an oar. In
his acutely suspicious mood every trifle was a matter for investigation.

"What's wrong with her," he said, "that she wouldn't steer with the
rudder when she has one?"

"It might be," said Peter Walsh, "that she's lost it. You couldn't tell
what the likes of her would do."

"She was in trouble this morning when I seen her," said Kinsella, "but
she had the rudder then."

Priscilla hailed them from the boat

"Hullo, Peter!" she shouted. "Go down to the slip and be ready to take
the boat. Have you the bath chair ready?"

"I have, Miss. It's there standing beside the slip where you left it
this morning. Who'd touch the like? What's happened the rudder?"

"Iron's broken," said Priscilla, "and it must be mended tonight. I say,
Kinsella, Jimmy's leg isn't near as bad as you'd think it would be,
after having the horn of a wild bull run through it."

"It wasn't a bull at all, Miss, but a heifer."

"I don't see that it makes much difference which it was," said
Priscilla.

"Do you hear that now?" said Kinsella to his friend in a whisper.
"Believe you me, Peter Walsh, it's as good for the whole of us that
she's not in the police."

"What's that you're saying?" said Priscilla.

The boat, though the wind had almost left her sails, drifted up on
the rising tide and was already past the spot where the two men were
sitting. Peter Walsh got up and shouted his answer after her.

"Joseph Antony Kinsella," he said, "is just after telling me that it's
his belief that you'd make a grand sergeant of police."

"It's a good job for him that I'm not," said Priscilla. "For the first
thing I'd do if I was would be to go out and see what it is he has going
on on Inishbawn."

Peter Walsh, without unduly hurrying himself, arrived at the slip before
the _Tortoise_. Priscilla stepped ashore and handed him the rudder.

"Take that to the smith," she said, "and tell him to put a new iron on
it this evening. We'll want it again tomorrow morning."

"I'll tell him, Miss; but I wouldn't say he'd do it for you."

"He'd jolly well better," said Priscilla.

"That same Patsy the smith," said Peter Walsh, "has a terrible strong
hate in him for doing anything in a