duce to the
service of the King. What explanation of these very comprehensive words
was orally given by James we are not informed.

Lest Barclay's absence from Saint Germains should cause any suspicion,
it was given out that his loose way of life had made it necessary for
him to put himself under the care of a surgeon at Paris. [654] He set
out with eight hundred pounds in his portmanteau, hastened to the coast,
and embarked on board of a privateer which was employed by the Jacobites
as a regular packet boat between France and England. This vessel
conveyed him to a desolate spot in Romney Marsh. About half a mile
from the landing place a smuggler named Hunt lived on a dreary and
unwholesome fen where he had no neighbours but a few rude shepherds. His
dwelling was singularly well situated for a contraband traffic in French
wares. Cargoes of Lyons silk and Valenciennes lace sufficient to load
thirty packhorses had repeatedly been landed in that dismal solitude
without attracting notice. But, since the Revolution, Hunt had
discovered that of all cargoes a cargo of traitors paid best. His lonely
abode became the resort of men of high consideration, Earls and Barons,
Knights and Doctors of Divinity. Some of them lodged many days under
his roof while waiting for a passage. A clandestine post was established
between his house and London. The couriers were constantly going and
returning; they performed their journeys up and down on foot; but they
appeared to be gentlemen, and it was whispered that one of them was the
son of a titled man. The letters from Saint Germains were few and small.
Those directed to Saint Germains were numerous and bulky; they were made
up like parcels of millinery, and were buried in the morass till they
were called for by the privateer.

Here Barclay landed in January 1696; and hence he took the road
to London. He was followed, a few days later, by a tall youth, who
concealed his name, but who produced credentials of the highest
authority. This youth too proceeded to London. Hunt afterwards
discovered that his humble roof had had the honour of sheltering the
Duke of Berwick. [655]

The part which Barclay had to perform was difficult and hazardous; and
he omitted no precaution. He had been little in London; and his face was
consequently unknown to the agents of the government. Nevertheless
he had several lodgings; he disguised himself so well that his oldest
friends would not have known him by broad