“You mean to murder me,” said Finlay.
“We do not mean to murder you. We mean to try you fairly, to acquit or condemn you in strict justice. The first charge against you is this. Having been sworn a member of the United Irishmen’s society in Dunseveric, having been elected a member of the committee, you did in Belfast betray the fact that there were cannons hidden in Dunseveric meeting-house, and gave the names of your fellow-members to the military authorities.”
“I deny it,” said James Finlay. “You have no proof of what you assert. Will you murder a man on suspicion?”
“Neal Ward,” said Donald, “is this the James Finlay who was sworn into the society by your father?”
“Yes,” said Neal.
“Tell us what you know about the visit of the yeomen to Dunseveric.”
Neal repeated the story, telling how he knew that his own name was on the list of persons to be arrested. There was a short silence when he had finished. Then James Bigger said—
“You have not proved that charge. The circumstances are suspicious, but you have proved nothing.”
Donald Ward bowed. Finlay raised his eyes for the first time since he had been dragged into the vault, and looked round him. There had risen in him a faint gleam of hope.
“You are charged,” said Donald again, “with having provided the dragoons who rioted in Belfast last week with information which led them to attack and wreck the houses of those who are in sympathy with the society.”