“God forbid else,” said Hope. “Whom should we trust if not the brother and son of Micah Ward?” “Then I’ll come straight to the point,” said Donald. “Who were the two men that were with you just now?” “The one of them,” said Hope, “was Aeneas Moylin, a Catholic, and a friend of Charlie Teeling. He’s a man that has done much to bring the Defender boys from County Down and Armagh into the society. He has a good farm of land near by Donegore.” “And the other?” “The other you ought to know, Neal Ward. He’s from Dunseveric. His name’s James Finlay.” “I do know him,” said Neal, “but I don’t trust him.” “He came to me,” said Hope, “with a letter from your father, like the letter you bring yourself. I have trusted him a great deal.” “Trust him no more, then,” said Donald, “the man’s a spy. My brother was deceived in him.” “These are grave words you speak,” said Hope. “Can you make them good?” Donald told the story of the raid on the Dunseveric meeting-house. He dwelt on the fact that only five or six people knew of the buried cannon, that of these, only one, James Finlay, had left Dunseveric, that Neal Ward’s name had appeared on the list of suspected persons, though Neal had hitherto taken no part and had no knowledge of the doings of the United Irishmen; that his name must have been given to the authorities by some one who had a private spite against him; that James Finlay, and he alone of the people of Dunseveric, had any cause to seek revenge on Neal. “It’s a case of suspicion,” said James Hope, “of heavy suspicion, but you’ve not proven that the man’s a traitor.” “No,” said Donald, “it’s not proven. I know that well, but the man ought to be trusted no more until his character is cleared. He ought to be tried and given a chance of defending himself.” James Hope sat silent. His fingers pushed back the lock of dark hair which hung over his forehead. His face grew stern, and there was a look of determination in his dark eyes. A frown gathered in deep wrinkles on his forehead. At last he spoke. “You are on your way to Belfast. I shall give you a letter to Felix Matier, who keeps the inn with the sign of Dumouriez in North Street. You will find him easily. His house is a common meeting-place for members of the society. I shall tell him to have a careful watch kept on Finlay, and to communicate with you.” “I’ll deal with the man,” said Donald, “as soon as I have anything more than suspicion to go on.” “Deal uprightly, deal justly,” said Hope. “Ours is a sacred cause. It may be God’s will that we are to be victorious, or it may be written in His book that we shall fail. He alone knows the issue. But, either way, our hands must not be stained with crime. We must do justly, aye, and love mercy when mercy can be shown without imperilling the lives of innocent men.” “Traitors must be dealt with as traitors are in all civilised States,” said Donald. “Ay, truly, when we are sure that they are traitors.”