"And are you going to keep me in the dark?" "An' he calls it kaping him in the dark! Ah, well, sor, I won't do that! I'll jist tell ye, thin. Ye know the owld chapel place?" "Chapel!" "Well, church, thin, sor. That's what they say it was. The little wan wid the stone picture of the owld gintleman sitting over the door." "That square temple?" "Yis, sor. It's all the same. The haythens who lived out here didn't know any betther, and the prastes were a bad lot, so they used to worship the owld gintleman, and give him a prisoner ivery now and then cut up aloive." "Nonsense! How do you know that?" "Faix, it's written on the stones so; and we found them althers wid places for the blood to run, and knives made out of flint-glass. It's thrue enough." "But what about the temple?" "Sure, it is the divil's temple, sor," said Dinny, with a twinkle of the eye; "and the skipper said it was just the place for it, so he fills it full of our divil's dust." "Money?" "An' is it money? That's all safe in another place, wid silver and gowld bars from the mines, as we tuk in ships, and gowld cups, sor. That's put away safe, for it's no use here, where there isn't a whisky-shop to go and spend it. No, sor; divil's dust, the black gunpowther." "Oh, the magazine! Well, what of that?" "Sure, sor, the darlin' put her pretty little lips close to my ear. `Och, darlin', and loight of my ois,' I says. `Sure, it's so dark in the wood here that ye've made a mistake. That's me ear, darlin', and not me mouth. Let me show ye'--" "`No, Dinny,' she says, `I'm like being another man's wife now, and I can foind me way to yer lips whether it's dark or light when it's proper and dacent to do so, and we've been to church.'" "Dinny, you'll drive me mad!" cried Humphrey, impatiently. "An' is it dhrive ye mad, when I'm thrying to set ye right? Then I'd better not tell ye, sor." "Yes, yes! For goodness' sake, man, go on." "Ah, well, thin, an' I will! She jist puts her lips to my ear and she says, `Dinny, if ye lay a thrain from the powdher-magazine'--think of that now, the darlin'!--`lay a thrain,' she says, Dinny, `and put a slow-match, same as ye have riddy for firing the big guns, and then be sure,' she says, `and get out of the way'--as if I'd want to shtay, sor, and be sent to hiven in a hurry--`thin,' she says, `the whole place will be blown up, and iverybody will be running to see what's the matther and put out the fire, and they'll be so busy wid that, they'll forget all about the prishner, and we can go down to the say and get away.'" "Yes," said Humphrey, thoughtfully. "Is there much powder stored there!" "Yis, sor, a dale. Ivery time a ship's been tuk all the powdher has been brought ashore and put there. It's a foin plan, sor, and all made out of the darlin's own head." "Yes, Dinny, we ought to get away then."