at he came
with them and stayed behind to get us to move? Who's to say he didn't
land from the Spaniard, if we're all in a tale? And faith, he's no
friend here nor one that will open his mouth for him. A word at Tralee
will do it, and Luke Asgill has friends there, that will be glad to set
the ball rolling at his bidding. Once clapped up John Sullivan may
_squeal_, he'll not be the one to be believed, but those that put him
there. It'll be no more than to swear an information, and Luke Asgill
will do the rest."

Flavia shuddered. "They won't take his life?" she asked.

James frowned. "That would not suit us at all," he said. "Not at all!
We could do that for ourselves. Faith," with a sudden laugh, "you
didn't lack much of doing it, Flavvy! No; but a stone box and a ring
round his leg, and four walls to talk to--until such time as we have a
use for him, would be mighty convenient for everybody. He'd have
leisure to think of his dear relations, and of the neat way he
outwitted them, the clever devil! But for taking his life--I'm seeing
my way there too," with a grin--"it was naming his dear relations made
me think of it. They'd not bear to be informing without surety for his
life, to be sure! No!" with a chuckle. "And very creditable to them!"

Flavia stared across the water. She was very pale.

"We'll be wanting one or two to swear to it," he continued, "and the
rest to be silent. Sorra a bit of difficulty will there be about it!"

"But if," she said slowly, "he gets the first word? And tells the
truth?"

"The truth?" James McMurrough replied scornfully. "The truth is what
we'll make it! I'll see to that, my jewel."

She shivered. "Still," she said, "it will not be truth."

"What matter?" James answered. "It will cook his goose. Curse him," he
continued with violence, "what right had he to come here and thrust
himself into other folks' affairs?"

"I could have killed him," she said. "But----"

"But you can't," he rejoined. "And you know why."

"But this"--she continued with a shudder, "this is different."

"What will you be after?" he cried impatiently. "You are not turning
sheep-hearted at this time of day?"

"I am not sheep-hearted."

"What is it then, my girl?"

"I can't do this," she said. She was still very pale. Something had
come close to her, had touched her, that had never approached her so
nearly before.

He stared at her. "But he'll have his life," he said.

"It's not that," she answered