"I ... am ... not what you think--indeed I am not," the man gasped, as he began to get his breath back after Stair's rough handling. "That's as may be," said his captor, "you are too open-minded a man to expect me to believe a syllable of what you say, merely on your word." "No, sir," said Eben, "but I am the more to be pitied--I am outlawed by the Government, and your people shot at me as I was escaping--" "Ah," said Stair, "you mean when you fled with the Duke's money and jewels the night of the little trouble at the White Loch." "Indeed," said Eben the Spy, "I am altogether on your side, though I cannot expect you to believe it. But I can bring you a good witness. Even before what occurred there, I had given up all my work for the Government. I intended to make a bolt for it anyway. I knew it was only a question of time when I should be shot. I had been missed already more than once, and indeed, sir, I carry lead in my body at this moment." Stair grinned so that the man caught the flash of his teeth in the uncertain glimmer, and got his first ray of hope that his life might be spared. He knew very well that nothing he could say would convince Stair of his good faith, but it might be possible to soften him by taking the situation with a certain humour. "Ah, you laugh, sir," he continued, "but it is no light thing to be a superintendent of recruitment and to belong to the parish of Stonykirk!" "Say a press-gang spy!" flashed Stair. "That will be the truth." "A press-gang spy, then," said Eben meekly. "I am not boggling about words--" "And your business to betray your own folk!" "I always endeavoured to temper justice with mercy," said the man, feeling at his throat with one of his now disengaged hands. "Come--none of that," said Stair, "at least, have the courage of your rascality. I shall like you none the worse. Where have you been all this time?" "Well," said the man, "that's telling. But I know you, Stair Garland, and I have confidence in the man I am talking to--" "If you abuse that confidence you are good enough to profess in me," said Stair with biting irony, "I beg you to remember that it will be at a price!" "I know--I know, sir," the man from Stonykirk moaned, "I should not dream of deceiving you." "Better not," said Stair, "you are on our side, you say. Take care and do not forget again, or the next time you will not be missed. I shall go spy-hunting myself." "I swear to you--" he began, gasping at the thought. "Do not swear--I would not believe you if you swore on a pile of Bibles as high as Criffel!" "But you would believe my uncle Kennedy on his bare word--" "What uncle?" queried Stair, sharply. "D'ye mean Kennedy McClure of Supsorrow?" "The same, sir--you would believe him if he spoke a good word for me?"