“Biddy is dead long ago,” he exclaimed.
“Are you so sure of that?” said I. “Any way, I’ll be here for the horse and the pass at dark. And take my advice, Maurice Gorman, and see that not a hair of Tim’s head is hurt. You are safe as long as he is, and no longer.”
And not waiting to take food or encounter the other officials, I went down to my boat and cast myself adrift on the dark waters of the Swilly.
My most urgent business was to find or communicate with Tim, and for that purpose I set sail once more for the headlands of Fanad.
As to his honour’s curious behaviour, I knew him and distrusted him enough not to think much of it. He was a coward, cursed with a guilty conscience, and would fain have passed himself off as a righteous judge and powerful patron. He was anxious to conciliate me, not so much, I thought, because of my hint about the property, which he was satisfied was incapable of proof, as from a fear I might compromise him with the authorities about his past dealings with the rebels. He was nervously anxious to get me out of the country, and was willing to promise anything, even Tim’s safety and Miss Kit’s society, to get rid of me.
But it would go hard with Tim if he had no security better than his honour’s word; and my dear little mistress, if she was to be won at all, was not to be won as the price of a political bargain.
All the morning and afternoon I searched up and down in vain, meeting not a soul nor any sign of my brother. With heavy misgivings I returned to my boat, and set sail once more towards Knockowen. Half-way down the lough it occurred to me that I would do better to pay a visit first of all to Kilgorman. After the scare of this morning’s business the rebels would hardly have the hardihood to meet there to-night; and although there was little chance of finding Tim there, the place contained a spot known to both of us, in which a message could be safely deposited.
So I tacked about, and soon found myself once more in the deep cave. The place was empty and silent, and as I crept along the rocky passage nothing but the echoes of my own feet and of the dull waves without disturbed the gloomy stillness of the place.
The big kitchen, already darkening, was deserted. Everything was as I had left it two nights ago.
I lost no time in lifting the board and depositing in the recess below the hearth my brief message for Tim:—