"Here, Sam!" shouted Stark jubilantly. "Take these to the kitchen. I've near choked myself talking and swearing at that old witch; but I've won my way. She's taken the bad eggs and give me fresh ones instead." Cuffee hurried forward. "You was dam smart, sar. I dun fink nobody in de prison could hah git around dat party 'cept you." And Lovey Lee, grumbling and whining to the last, took herself and her baskets back across the Moor; tramped home; entered her hovel, and then turned with greedy curiosity to the secret of the eggs. She was as safe from interruption in her lonely cabin by Siward's Cross as she had been in the desert of Sahara; yet caution and suspicion were a part of her; therefore she locked her door and covered up her little window with an apron before she turned to her basket. Then, one by one, she broke the eggs into a basin, and her mouth watered at the sight of such food, even while she mourned to see two pennyworth of marketable commodity wasted upon herself. The fifth egg weighed normally; but it was filled with dust, and, after all, Lovey made no rare meal, for she spoilt the mess in the basin by pouring the dust on top of it. A vital matter, however, she rescued, for in the dust was a little roll of paper, and upon the paper a message closely but clearly written. "_To mistress Lee, an offer of money in plenty if she will help Cecil Stark to escape from the War Prison at Prince Town. Let her sell two fowls next market day if she will serve him; let her sell two ducks if she will not serve him. But if she betray Cecil Stark, his friends will be revenged upon her._" To the young man from Vermont had fallen this first step in the plot. Lots were drawn as to who should get the message to Lovey Lee, for all agreed that one only need be inculpated until it was certain that she would assist them. Now, if she proved loyal to the authorities, Stark alone would suffer; but upon that score little anxiety was felt, for Lovey had often expressed sentiments much the reverse of patriotic, and had at all times made it clear that money was the only sovereign lord she acknowledged or served. Upon the following market day two fine fat fowls were displayed at Mrs. Lee's stall. She sat behind them on her upturned barrel, and gave Stark an indifferent "good morning" as he strolled past with the Commodore and James Knapps. "Here's a nice brace of chicks, your honour," said Lovey. But Stark laughed and shook his head. "No luxuries to-day, ma'am; we're not made of money, you know. They would look well upon Commandant Cottrell's table." "I serve him, too," she answered. "But he likes his poultry stuffed wi' marjoram an' wild thyme." "And these?" "They be stuffed different." "Well, we won't quarrel as to that. Hungry men don't criticise their sauces. What's the price?" "You shall have 'em for half-a-crown."