"Can we go inside and talk?" he said. The old man nodded. Again they sat before the fire, grateful for its warmth, and for the strong walls around them. Michael had laid out the facts as he understood them, told his friend all that he knew. And now he waited on his judgment, seeking aid and counsel alike. "Well," said the other, after mulling over all that he had heard. "I'd say it's more than clear we've got to get them out. . .and I'd have to say you're right, not trusting their fate to the English. There's good men among `em, it's true. But when there's a struggle for power between adamant men, innocents are going to be hurt, and conscience swept aside. "On one thing you can rest assured," he went on. "I'll be at the cove with a skiff, if and when you need me, with my boat anchored not far off. I'll move in at nightfall tomorrow, prepared to stay till dawn, then do the same the next night if need be. I know the place well enough, as I know most every coast from Skye to Inverness. It'll be a tricky sail coming out---with the wind against us. But I'll warrant the wind's been against us some years now, eh?" "Thank you," said Michael. "It means a lot." "Aye, but that's the easy part. First we've got to get them out." Again he puffed on his pipe thoughtfully. "Well then. I've seen that tower from a distance, and know the castle by reputation alone. It was built centuries ago as a defense against the Vikings, and word has it it's never been taken. It was built to withstand far greater force than any you or I could hope to bring against it." The mariner paused, considering. "Stealth, you say. And rope..... Aye. A grappling hook might be the answer, if the window weren't as high as it's bound to be, and you had all night to make the throw. But I suspect you don't, and the weight of the attached line would make it all but impossible in any case." "I'd thought of that," said Michael. "But I didn't know what else to try..... Tell me the truth, John. Is it hopeless? I think another prison cell would be the death of me. But if there's no other way. . .I'll turn myself in along with Purceville, and try to reach the new Secretary---" The fisherman shook his head. "No. Your kin have turned themselves in once already, and you see the result. And I did not say it was hopeless. You were on the right scent. You're just not the crafty old hound that I am." He gave the younger man a wink. "Where a rope won't go, perhaps a bit of string will, to lead the way." Michael set his horse at an easy gallop, as the road leveled and he began the second, less arduous leg toward home. He felt heartened as his leg brushed against the saddlebag, and he thought of the bundles contained within. For the first time since the women had been taken from him, he felt a tentative hope. There was a chance.