“Truth to tell, Laird of Dunvegan, it is more than likely,” admitted the king, with an air of great candour.
The frown on MacLeod’s countenance deepened, and he said harshly,—
“You two gentlemen probably know the fate of spies when they are captured. Their fate is a short shrift, and a long rope.”
“And quite properly so,” rejoined the king promptly.
“I am glad that you are so well informed, and need no instruction from me,” commented the Crottach with menace in his tone.
Suddenly the king’s manner changed, and the air of authority which was natural to him asserted itself.
“MacLeod of Skye,” he cried, “this discussion and beating about the bush is interesting, but nothing at all to the purpose. You are hinting that we two are spies, and I tell you there are no spies, and can be no spies on this island.”
“I have only your word to set against my own doubts,” said the MacLeod.
“My word and your doubts are both aside from the purpose. Your mind has become confused. Unless you are at war with James of Scotland, there can be spies neither in the domain you hold under his hand, nor in the kingdom over which he rules. Are you a rebel against your king, MacLeod of Skye?”
“That I am not,” answered Allaster hastily, and with evident discomposure.