Hogan's unpleasant laugh startled Kenneth. It suggested to him
that perhaps, after all, his delay was by no means at an end;
that Hogan suspected him of something - he could not think of
what.

Then in a flash an idea came to him.

"May I speak to you privately for a moment, Captain Hogan?" he
inquired in such a tone of importance - imperiousness, almost -
that the Irishman was impressed by it. He scented disclosure.

"Faith, you may if you have aught to tell me," and he signed to
Beddoes and his companion to withdraw.

"Now, Master Hogan," Kenneth began resolutely as soon as they
were alone, "I ask you to let me go my way unmolested. Too
long already has the stupidity of your followers detained me
here unjustly. That I reach London by midnight is to me a
matter of the gravest moment, and you shall let me."

"Soul of my body, Mr. Stewart, what a spirit you have acquired
since last we met."

"In your place I should leave our last meeting unmentioned,
master turncoat."

The Irishman's eyebrows shot up.

"By the Mass, young cockerel, I mislike your tone - "