“Thin I’m to place mesilf at your disposal,” he said, briefly. “You know more of what’s in the air than I do, no doubt. Everything is arranged, I hear, for rising in both Cork an’ Tralee to-morrow, an’ in manny places in both counties besides. Officially, however, I know nothing of this--an’ have no right to know. I’m just to put mysilf at your command, and deliver anny messages you desire to sind to other cinters in your district. Here’s me papers.” The O’Mahony barely glanced at the inclosures of the envelope handed him. They took the familiar form of a business letter of introduction, and a commercial contract, signed by a firm-name which to the uninitiated bore no significance. He noted that the name given was “Major Lynch.” He observed also, with satisfaction, that his hand, as it held the papers, was entirely steady. “Everybody’s been notified,” he said, after a time, instinctively assuming a slight hoarseness of speech. “I’ve been all over the ground, myself. You can meet me--let’s see--say at the bottom of the black rock jest overlookin’ the marteller tower at----at eleven o’clock, sharp, to-morrow forenoon. The rocks behind the tower, mind--t’other side of the coast-guard houses. You’ll see me land from my boat.” “I’ll not fail,” said the other. “I can bring a gun--moryah, I’m shooting at say-gulls.” “They ain’t much need of that,” responded The O’Mahony. “You might git stopped an’ questioned. There’ll be guns enough. Of course, the takin’ of the tower’ll be as easy as rollin’ off a log. The thing’ll be to hold it afterward.” “We’ll howld whatever we take, sir, all Ireland over,” said Major Lynch, with enthusiasm. “I hope so! Good-bye. Mind, eleven sharp,” was the response, and the two men separated. The O’Mahony did not wait for the finish of the game of ball, but sauntered out of the alley through the end door, walked to his car, and set off direct for Toome. At this place he decided to drive on to Dunmanway station. Dismissing the carman at the door, and watching his departure, he walked over to the hotel, joined the waiting Malachy, and soon was well on his jolting way back to Muirisc. Curiously enough, the bearing of Linsky’s return upon his own personal fortunes and safety bore a very small part in The O’Mahony’s meditations, as he clung to his seat over the rough homeward road. All that might take care of itself, and he pushed it almost contemptuously aside in his mind. What he did ponder upon unceasingly, and with growing distrust, was the suspicion with which the manner of the man’s offer to deliver messages had inspired him. CHAPTER XII--A TALISMAN AND A TRAITOR