"Your lordship will pardon me one question. Have you any objection to tell me the address of the friend in Holland to whose care you propose to commend Miss Gorman?" "She is an old retainer in a kinswoman's family, one Biddy McQuilkin. She keeps a little inn on the outskirts of the Hague, called the 'White Angel.'" "Biddy McQuilkin!" exclaimed I with excitement. "Why, she was servant to the Lestranges in Paris, who perished in 'the terror.'" "The same. This Biddy was overlooked, and finally escaped, and by the interest of Madame Sillery got to Holland, and set up at this small inn, frequented by English and Irish visitors." It was difficult to disguise the joy which this unexpected discovery afforded me. I bade adieu to his lordship with a grateful salute, and then betook myself in a state of wonder and jubilation to the harbour. In Biddy McQuilkin were centred any hopes I entertained of righting the wrong which had been done at Kilgorman, and so of carrying out my mother's sacred bequest. Moreover, the thought that Miss Kit would find so stalwart a protector at the end of her unhappy voyage lifted a heavy weight from my mind. And all this relief I owed to the man whom, of all others, I, as a loyal subject of his Majesty, was bound to consider as my country's most dangerous enemy! Alack! I was not born to be a good hater. For as I strode that evening through the streets of Dublin I counted this Lord Edward as one of the few men for whom I would gladly have given my life. When in due time I procured a boat to row me out to the _Zebra_, I found that Captain Swift's forebodings as to the state of the ship were only too well founded. The _Zebra_ was a second-rate frigate, which for some years had been out of regular commission, doing duty on coast-guard service, or cruising under letters of marque. She was not an ill- looking craft; though, to judge by her looks as she rode at anchor, her lines were better adapted to fast sailing than hard knocks. When I reported myself on board, however, I was better able to understand my captain's misgivings. The first lieutenant in charge was a coarse, brutal-looking fellow, who, if he spared me some of the abuse which he measured out to the ordinary seamen, did so because he looked to me to take some labour off his hands. "It's high time you came," said he; "and unless you can lick a pack of wolves into shape, you may as well swing yourself up at the yard-arm at once. They seem to have emptied all the jails in Dublin to find us men; and as for stores--well, the less said about these the better."