“Let me see Mrs Shannon,” said I.
“What is it?” said a voice on the stairs before the butler could answer.
I explained my mission, and inquired if it was true that Miss Kit had already departed.
“To be sure,” said the lady. “Mr Gorman’s groom, Martin, rode over from Knockowen this evening with a message—”
“Written?” I interrupted.
“No; Mr Gorman was too busy to write. It was to say that a passage had been taken for Miss Kit and a maid on a brig that happened to be lying off the Five Fingers; and that, as he found the ship was to sail for Dublin with the flood to-night, he had sent over Martin to see her safely on board. I confess it seemed a little unusual; and Miss Kit was very reluctant to start on such short notice, saying it had been arranged she was to travel overland by way of Derry. But tell me, what’s amiss?”
“Foul play; nothing less!” cried I. “That ship is bound, not for Dublin, but for Holland; and this is a vile plot of the rebels to be revenged on Gorman, and decoy away his daughter as a hostage. Where did Martin say the ship lay?”
“At Five Fingers, west of the headland; two leagues from here.”
“When did they start from here?”
“Ten o’clock.”