Neal, though he had schooled himself beforehand to greet Finlay cordially, shrank back. He felt a violent loathing for the man. It became physically impossible for him to take Finlay’s hand in his, to speak smooth words to this hypocrite who inquired of the good health of the very people he had betrayed. Hope saw the hesitation and tried to cover it with a casual remark. Finlay also saw it and misinterpreted it. “I hope,” he said, “that you do not bear me any malice on account of the little trouble there was between us long ago in the north. You ought to forgive and forget, Mr. Ward. We are both workers in the same cause now. At least, I suppose you are a United Irishman like your father or you wouldn’t come here with James Hope to-day.” “Neal Ward,” said Hope, “is going to the meeting at Donegore to-morrow evening.” Neal recovered himself and held out his hand to Finlay. There was another knock at the door of the house. Finlay started violently and ran to the window. “It’s all right,” he said, “it’s only a lad I keep employed. I sent him out an hour ago to find out what was going on in the streets and to bring me word.” He returned to Hope with a smile on his face, but he had grown very white, and his hands were trembling slightly. A boy burst into the room, followed by the woman who had opened the door for Hope and Neal. “Master,” he cried, “they’ve brought out Kelso into the High Street. The soldiers are dragging him along. They are going to flog him.” The boy’s eyes were wide with excitement. Having delivered his message, he turned and fled. A flogging was too great a treat for Finlay’s boy to miss. The woman, without staying to don hat or shawl, went after him. Finlay called to her to stay. She shouted her answer from the threshold. “Do you think I’m daft to be sitting my lone in your kitchen and them flogging a clever young man in the next street?” Then the hall-door slammed. Finlay turned to Hope. He was whiter than ever, and his whole body shook as if with an ague. “Kelso will tell,” he said. “Kelso knows, and they’ll flog the secret out of him. He’ll tell, I know he will. He must tell; no man could help it.” If Finlay was pretending to be terrified he acted marvellously well. It seemed to Neal that he really was afraid of something, perhaps of some sudden betrayal of his treachery, of vengeance taken speedily by Hope. “What ails you?” said Hope. “You needn’t be frightened.” “The cartridges, the cartridges,” wailed Finlay. “Kelso knows they are here.” “If that’s all,” said Hope, “Neal Ward and I will ease you of them. We came here to take them away.” “You can’t, you can’t, you mustn’t. They’d hang you on the nearest lamp iron if they saw you with the cartridges.”