Miss Rutherford tumbled from her own boat into the Tortoise. “Thanks awfully,” she said. “I want to see you arrest those spies more than anything.” “They’re not spies,” said Priscilla. “We never really thought they were,” said Frank. “The truth is----” said Priscilla. She stopped abruptly and looked round. Jimmy Kinsella was some distance astern heading for Craggeen. He appeared to be quite out of earshot. Nevertheless Priscilla lowered her voice to a whisper. “We’re on an errand of mercy,” she said. “Oh,” said Miss Rutherford, “not vengeance. I’m disappointed.” “Mercy is a much nicer thing,” said Priscilla, “besides being more Christian.” “All the same,” said Miss Rutherford, “I’m disappointed. Vengeance is far more exciting.” “To a certain extent,” said Priscilla, “we’re taking vengeance too. At least Frank is, on account of his ankle you know. So you needn’t be disappointed.” “That cheers me up a little,” said Miss Rutherford, “but do explain.” “It’s quite simple really,” said Priscilla. “Though it may seem a little complicated. You explain, Cousin Frank, and be sure to begin at the beginning or she won’t understand.” “Lord Torrington,” said Frank, “is Secretary of State for War, and his daughter, Lady Isabel--but perhaps I’d better tell you first that as I was coming over to Ireland I met----” “‘Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle,” said Priscilla, waving her hands towards the sea, “‘this dark and stormy water?’” “‘Oh I’m the chief of Ulva’s Isle, and this Lord Ullin’s daughter.’ You know that poem, I suppose.” “I’ve known it for years,” said Miss Rutherford. “Well, thats it,” said Priscilla. “You have the whole thing now.” “I see,” said Miss Rutherford, “I see it all now, or almost all. This is far better than spies. How did you ever think of it?” “It’s true,” said Priscilla. “Lord Torrington,” said Frank, “is over here stopping with my uncle, and he came specially to find his daughter who’s run away.” “‘One lovely hand stretched out for aid,’” said Priscilla, “‘and one was round her lover.’ That’s what we want to avoid if we can. I call that an errand of mercy. Don’t you?” “It’s far and away the most merciful errand I ever heard of,” said Miss Rutherford. “But why don’t you hurry? At any moment now her father’s men may reach the shore.” “We can’t,” said Priscilla, “hurry any more than we are. The wind’s dropping every minute. Luff her a little bit, Frank, or she won’t clear the point. The tide’s taking us down, and that point runs out a terrific distance.” “The only thing I don’t quite see yet,” said Miss Rutherford, “is where the vengeance comes in.” “That’s to be taken on her father,” said Priscilla. “Quite right,” said Miss Rutherford, “as a matter of abstract justice; but I rather gathered from the way you spoke, Priscilla, that Frank had some kind of private feud with the old gentleman.”