"That's as may be," said his captor, "you are too open-minded a man to expect me to believe a syllable of what you say, merely on your word."
"No, sir," said Eben, "but I am the more to be pitied—I am outlawed by the Government, and your people shot at me as I was escaping—"
"Ah," said Stair, "you mean when you fled with the Duke's money and jewels the night of the little trouble at the White Loch."
"Indeed," said Eben the Spy, "I am altogether on your side, though I cannot expect you to believe it. But I can bring you a good witness. Even before what occurred there, I had given up all my work for the Government. I intended to make a bolt for it anyway. I knew it was only a question of time when I should be shot. I had been missed already more than once, and indeed, sir, I carry lead in my body at this moment."
Stair grinned so that the man caught the flash of his teeth in the uncertain glimmer, and got his first ray of hope that his life might be spared. He knew very well that nothing he could say would convince Stair of his good faith, but it might be possible to soften him by taking the situation with a certain humour.
"Ah, you laugh, sir," he continued, "but it is no light thing to be a superintendent of recruitment and to belong to the parish of Stonykirk!"
"Say a press-gang spy!" flashed Stair. "That will be the truth."
"A press-gang spy, then," said Eben meekly. "I am not boggling about words—"
"And your business to betray your own folk!"
"I always endeavoured to temper justice with mercy," said the man, feeling at his throat with one of his now disengaged hands.