"Will this convince you, sir?" the spy broke in eagerly, seeing his chance. "I have known all the winter that you and Mr. Wemyss were at the Bothy. I knew that you met with Joseph from the Burnfoot, and that your washing was done at Glenanmays. Now there is a reward out for Mr. Julian, sir, and yet I have never breathed a word!"
"Lucky for you, or you would never have breathed another," growled Stair, "but there does seem to be something in what you say. That reward--your uncle must have had something to say against that. It must have gone hard against the grain with you."
"I beg that you will think of my own position, Mr. Stair--I might have made my peace!"
"Ah, you mean about the Duke's money and the jewels--no, I do not forget that part of it, Eben. I shall further confer with you as to what shall be done with these. In the meantime--do not budge. Here, watch him, Whitefoot!"
And very calmly Stair picked up the pistols and reprimed them. Then, having stuck the sheath-dagger into his belt under his coat, he faced his captive.
"In the meanwhile you are coming back with us to the Bothy. I don't know what I shall do with you yet. But at any rate I cannot afford to run any chances. You must stay with us till we get the first ship off. Perhaps if you behave well, you shall have a passage on her. But in the meantime--right-about-face ... _march!_"
The spy obeyed, though there were several things for which he would have wished to stipulate. But Stair had a newly primed pistol pointed midway between his ears as viewed from behind, and the spy felt keenly the one-sidedness of any discussion in such a situation. He marched down the hill, guided now to right and anon to left by a growled order from Stair. Whitefoot was in front, looking over his shoulder and occasionally showing his teeth. In this order the three arrived at the hollow where they had left Adam and Julian. The pair were still in earnest debate, so the little procession swerved away to the right to leave them to themselves.
"Evidently," thought Stair, "Patsy's father has been harder to convince than I had supposed. I'll wager it is the journey to London which sticks in his gizzard."
In this somewhat inelegant form, Stair expressed what was the truth.