At ten o’clock he caught sight of the topsails of a ship far east, beyond the blue outline of the Rathlin hills. The wind, very feeble at dawn, was freshening slightly. The lower sails of the vessel rose slowly into view. Maurice guessed her to be a brig--to be the brig he looked for. He lay still, watching her intently, till he was sure. Then he went home. He found Una and the Comtesse in the breakfast room. Captain Twinely, on the lawn outside, leaned on the window sill and talked to them. Maurice, uncontrollably excited, whispered to Una-- “Now.” She rose, and followed him from the room. Captain Twinely eyed them sharply. He had ceased to distrust the Comtesse, but he was keenly suspicious of Maurice. Since he had been robbed of his clothes in Antrim he hated Maurice nearly as bitterly as he did Neal, and was determined to have him strictly watched. “Pardon me, dear lady,” he said, “I must give some orders to the patrol.” “Don’t be long, then,” she said, “I want you to-day, Captain Twinely. Come back to me.” Their eyes met, and the Comtesse felt certain that her victim would return to her. She leaped from her chair the moment he left her and ran from the room. “Una,” she cried. “Una, Maurice, where are you?” She found them; they were packing clothes in a hand-bag--clothes, she supposed, for Neal. “He’s gone to give orders to his men about you, Maurice. I know he has. I haven’t a moment to explain. Leave everything to me. I’ll manage him, only trust me and do what I say. Una, are you a born idiot? Take those things out of the bag. How can you go about with that travelling-bag in your hand and not excite suspicion? If you must have clothes wrap them in a bathing-sheet. Oh, what a fool you are!” She left them no time to answer her, but fled back to the breakfast-room. A moment later Captain Twinely found her, lounging--a figure of luxurious laziness--among the cushions of Lord Dunseveric’s easy chair. “We are going on the sea to-day,” she said, “my nephew, Maurice, has promised to take us in a boat to the Skerries. I have never been there, but I hear they are delightful. I hope you will come with us. Please say yes. I should feel so much safer in a boat if you were there. My nephew is very rash. He frightens me. I do not trust him. I shall not feel secure or easy in my mind unless you come, too. Besides”--her voice sank to a delicious whisper--“I shall not really enjoy myself unless you are there.” She stretched her hand out and laid it with the tenderest motion of caress on his hand. Captain Twinely could not hesitate, he promised to go with her. In the back of his mind was a feeling that if he were of the party Maurice St. Clair could not attempt to communicate with the fugitive. “Maurice,” said the Comtesse, “Maurice, are you ready? Captain Twinely is coming with us to the Skerries for a pic-nic. Won’t that be nice? Come along quickly, we are starting.”