ay, sir."

He had now news for them that would warm their hearts like grog. He had
not discovered the Lair, but he had seen Stroke, he had spoken to him!
Disguised as a boy he had tracked the Jacobite and found him skulking in
the house of the unhappy Ailie. After blustering for a little Stroke had
gone on his knees and offered not only to cease persecuting this lady
but to return to France. Mr. Sandys had kicked him into a standing
posture and then left him. But this clemency had been ill repaid. Stroke
had not returned to France. He was staying at the Quharity Arms, a
Thrums inn, where he called himself McLean. It had gone through the town
like wildfire that he had written to someone in Redlintie to send him on
another suit of clothes and four dickies. No one suspected his real
character, but all noted that he went to the unhappy Ailie's house
daily, and there was a town about it. Ailie was but a woman, and women
could not defend themselves "(Boatswain, put Grizel in irons if she
opens her mouth)," and so the poor thing had been forced to speak to
him, and even to go walks with him. Her life was in danger, and before
now Mr. Sandys would have taken him prisoner, but the queen had said
these words, "Noble Sandys, destroy the Lair," and the best way to
discover this horrid spot was to follow Stroke night and day until he
went to it. Then they would burn it to the ground, put him on board the
Ailie, up with the jib-boom sail, and away to the Tower of London.

At the words "Tower of London," Ben cried "Tumble up there!" which was
the signal for three such ringing cheers as only British tars are
capable of. Three? To be exact only two and a half, for the third
stopped in the middle, as if the lid had suddenly been put on.

What so startled them was the unexpected appearance in their midst of
the very man Tommy had been talking of. Taking a stroll through the Den,
Mr. McLean had been drawn toward the ruin by the first cheers, and had
arrived in time to learn who and what he really was.

"Stroke!" gasped one small voice.

The presumptuous man folded his arms. "So, Sandys," he said, in hollow
tones, "we meet again!"

Even Grizel got behind Tommy, and perhaps it was this that gave him
spunk to say tremulously, "Wh-what are you doing her?"

"I have come," replied the ruddy Pretender, "to defy you, ay, proud
Sandys, to challenge thee to the deed thou pratest of. I go from here to
my Lair. Follow me, if thou darest!"

He