"Walter," Captain Davenant said to his son one day, when he returned from a council in which he had taken part, at the quarters of General Sarsfield, "I have a mission for you in Dublin. It is necessary, in the first place, to communicate with some of our friends there, and in the second to ascertain, as far as we can, the plans of the enemy during the next campaign. There are few of us here who would not be readily recognized in Dublin; therefore, when there seemed a difficulty in selecting someone to undertake the duty, I said that I thought you would be likely to succeed better than most.  
"You have not been any time in Dublin, and I question whether a single person there would be likely to recognize you. You will, of course, be in disguise, and your youth will be in your favour. I don't say there is no danger in such an undertaking, but I do not think the risk is greater than that which you have frequently run. I was sure you would readily undertake the mission, and I thought I could answer for your intelligence as well as your discretion."
 
"I will undertake it, certainly, father, if you think me capable of it," Walter said. "It is dull enough here, now that the wet weather has thoroughly set in, and I shall really like the adventure. When am I to set out?"
 
"Tomorrow. Your instructions, and the letters you are to carry, will be drawn up tonight, and you can set off after breakfast. I shall ride with you, with a part of the troop, until you are past the point where you are likely to fall in with any body of the enemy's cavalry. After that you will, of course, shift for yourself. We think you had best travel on foot, dressed as a peasant. In that way you will attract no attention, and pass through towns occupied by the enemy without questioning."
 
"I think, father, I will take Larry with me, if you have no objection. He would be the real thing, and could do most of the talking. Besides, sometimes it is very useful to have someone to send with a message, or to put on guard when one went in anywhere."
 
"Take him, by all means, Walter, and, indeed, I agree with you that you may find him very useful."
 
Accordingly, the following morning Walter and Larry, dressed as young peasants, mounted, and with the troop started from the camp. No signs of any parties of the enemy were seen during their ride, and after proceeding some five-and-twenty miles, they dismounted, and with a hearty farewell from Captain Davenant, and a cheer from the men, they started on foot.
 
The letters of which Walter was the bearer had been written on very small pieces of paper, and had been sewn up inside the collar of his coat. His instructions, as to the persons on whom he was to call, had been learned by heart and the paper destroyed. Larry was in high glee at taking part in the adventure, and laughed and jested as they made their way along.
 
They avoided the main roads running to Waterford and Dublin, as they would probably have fallen in with parties of troops journeying west, and might have been shot out of pure wantonness, besides being exposed to the risk of being asked awkward questions. They slept at peasants' houses, where they were everywhere hospitably received, as soon as their hosts assured themselves that they were Catholics. Larry was the principal spokesman, for although Walter, like all the Catholic gentry, spoke the native language, he was not so fluent as his follower, to whom it came naturally, as, although the peasantry in the neighbourhood of Dublin were all able to speak English, they always conversed in Irish among themselves. Larry gave out that he and his companion had been serving in the army, and had obtained leave to pay a visit to their native village, near Dublin, for the winter.
 
"I doubt whether you will find much of it standing," one of their hosts said, "for I hear that county Wicklow, and all round Dublin, has been wasted by them foreign devils in Dublin. The curse of Cromwell be upon them! But we'll be aven wid them yet. They say next spring a big French army is coming, and they will set the Germans running so that they won't stop till the last man gets on board ship, and ould Ireland is free from them, the murthering haythens. But you must be careful, lads, and not let out to a sowl that ye have been wid the boys in the west, or it's short work they would make of you."
 
In every case they were asked questions about sons or relations with the army, and were often able to give news as to where the regiments to which they belonged were stationed, and of the part they had taken during the last year's fighting. News travelled slowly, and was circulated principally by means of travelling peddlers, who hawked their wares from village to village, and reported what was going on in the outside world. Thus, although the peasants were aware of the general details of the fighting which had taken place, they knew nothing of the part which the various regiments had borne in it. Reading and writing were rare accomplishments, and the post was altogether interrupted, so that many remained in suspense, from the beginning to the end of the war, as to the fate of those who had left them to take part in it.
 
The friends did not make long journeys, for Walter was unaccustomed to walk barefooted, and his feet at first were very sore and tender; but by the time they reached Dublin they had hardened, and he was able to stride along by the side of Larry, who, until he started with him for the war, had never had on a pair of shoes in his life.
 
As soon as they reached Dublin, they made their way to the quarters inhabited by the working classes. There Walter purchased shoes, and made such alteration in their attire as to do away with their country aspect, and give them the appearance of two young fellows belonging to the town. Having hired a room, and made these changes, they sallied out.
 
The streets were thronged with foreign troops, who behaved as if in a conquered country, swaggering along the streets, pushing the citizens out into the middle of the road, abusing the tradesmen who refused to part with their goods at nominal prices, making insolent remarks to any woman who hurried past them, and behaving with a freedom and license which showed how completely all bonds of discipline were relaxed.
 
"They look mighty bould," Larry whispered, "but it's mighty little of it they show when they see the Irish horse advancing agin them. No one would think, to see them now, as they were the men we saw spurring away for the bare life on Boyne Water."
 
"No, indeed, Larry," agreed Walter, who was furious at what he saw. "I wish we had a few squadrons of Sarsfield's horse here. We would clear the street of these vermin in no time. But you must be careful, Larry. Whatever happens, we must not get into any brawl. We have a mission to perform, and must not think of ourselves."
 
"I will remember it, yer honour."
 
It was well that Larry had been warned, for the next moment a German soldier passing brushed against him, and then, with a savage oath, turned and struck him to the ground. Larry sprung up with his eyes blazing with passion, but he caught Walter's warning "Larry," and, hanging his head, moved away without a word.
 
"That's right, Larry," Walter said approvingly. "I was afraid for a moment that you were going to spring at that fellow. If you had you would have been in a lockup in five minutes, and as you could have given no good account of yourself, there you might have remained for weeks."
 
"If ever I meet that fellow outside Dublin," Larry muttered savagely, "I will pay him for the blow he gave me."
 
Seeing the risk of another encounter of the same kind, Walter led the way down to the bank of the river, and there they remained, chatting, until it became dusk.
 
"Now, Larry, I must begin my work. My first visit is to be to a merchant, who lives in a street close to where the ships discharge. While I am in, do you sit down on a doorstep near, and keep a sharp lookout to see whether the house is watched. It is not likely, but all the better class of Catholics who remain in the town are regarded with suspicion."
 
Walter had no trouble in finding the house he was in search of, and, knocking at the door, he told the servant who opened it that he wanted to see the master.
 
"You must come in business hours," the man said. "He can't see you now."
 
"I have a letter to him, from his friend Mr. Fitzgerald of Waterford. If you tell him that, I think he will see me now."
 
"That's all right," the man said. "He tould me if anyone came with a letter from that gentleman, I was to show him up."
 
So saying, he led him upstairs.
 
"Here's a young man, your honour, with the letter you tould me about, from Mr. Fitzgerald."
 
"Show him in," a voice said; and Walter entered a sitting room. The gentleman who was with him said nothing, until the door was closed behind him. Then he asked:
 
"Has the ship come in?"
 
To which Walter replied:
 
"She is sailing slowly, but she will come."
 
"That's right," the merchant said, rising. "Where do you come from?"
 
"I am Walter Davenant, a cornet in my father's troop of horse, and I have come direct from Limerick. I have a letter for you, in my collar."
 
He pulled off his coat, the merchant handed him a knife, he ripped open the collar, and, taking out the papers concealed there, picked out that intended for Mr. O'Brian, which was not directed, but had only a slight mark upon it to distinguish it from the others. The merchant read it in silence.
 
"I am disappointed, Mr. Davenant," he said, as he finished it. "I had hoped that a dash would be made at Dublin this winter; but the general says that it has been decided to fight one more campaign on the defensive, and that in the autumn, when the French arrive, there will be a general advance. Now, I am ready to answer any question you are instructed to ask."
 
"In the first place, sir, how many men do you think would be ready to join in any rising in Dublin?"
 
"It would all depend upon whether an Irish army was advancing in this direction. In that case, some seven or eight thousand men would rise. But unless, there were a hope of early assistance, I do not think that above a thousand could be relied on. I have about that number on my list. They, as you see, could do nothing unassisted. There are three or four thousand troops here, and the Protestant mob who would join them would number seven or eight thousand, at the very least. Therefore, any attempt to rise in the face of such odds, unless after a crushing defeat of William's troops, would be out of the question. But, as I said, if an army were marching on Dublin, the Protestants would be thinking more of taking to their ships than fighting, and all the Catholics in the city would then join the movement."
 
"I think the general hoped that you could have mustered a stronger force, sir."
 
"So I could, a year ago," Mr. O'Brian said; "but the constant persecution and ill treatment of the Catholics have caused large numbers of them to leave the town. Many of the younger and more determined men have made their way west and joined the army. I fear that the numbers I have given are quite as many as can be relied upon."
 
"The general was in hopes," Walter said, "that a diversion might have been caused in the spring, by a rising in Dublin, which would, even if unsuccessful, compel the Dutch general to keep a large force here."
 
"It might have been done, six or eight months ago," Mr. O'Brian said; "but the spirit of the people here has been very much broken, as well as their numbers diminished. But you can rely upon it, that if anything like a general rising can be got up, we will do our share here. With but a thousand men I can rely on, I feel that any open insurrection would be hopeless; but we could fire the city at a score of points, night after night, and so alarm the citizens that they would insist on a considerable force being kept here for their protection, and this would aid our friends outside. I know nothing as to what is being done there, I have only charge of the matter inside the city."
 
"I am well aware of that, sir, and have to call upon those who have the threads of the movement, throughout the country, in their hands. I only arrived today, and came to you first, in order that I might know how matters stand here before I see the others. I shall, of course, call again upon you before I leave."
 
After leaving Mr. O'Brian, Walter visited the houses of several others to whom he bore letters. The accounts of the feeling throughout the country were more encouraging than those which he had received from Mr. O'Brian. The hatred of the invaders was greater than ever, and the peasantry in all parts were in a state of sullen desperation. Indeed, the enemy could nowhere move, in small parties, without the certainty of being attacked. The pressing need was arms. A great part of the peasants who owned guns had already joined the army, and the rest possessed no weapons beyond roughly-made pikes, and scythes fixed on long handles. These were formidable weapons in a sudden attack on any small party, but they would not enable the peasants to cope, with any chance of success, against considerable bodies of troops, especially if provided with artillery.
 
The persons whom Walter saw were in communication with the disaffected in all parts of the country, and agreed in the opinion that a general rising should be delayed, until some striking success was obtained by the Irish army, when the whole country would rise and fall upon the enemy wherever met with. The plans for a rising having been discussed and arranged, after several interviews, at some of which most of the leaders of the movement were present, Walter prepared to start again for the camp, with the news that the first Irish victory would be followed by a rising throughout the country, aided by great conflagrations, if not by a serious movement in Dublin.
 
The negotiations had occupied over a fortnight. During the first ten days, Larry, who always kept watch outside the house Walter was visiting, reported that nothing whatever had occurred that was in the slightest degree suspicious. Then he told Walter, on his retiring to their lodgings, that he fancied their footsteps were followed.
 
"Do you think so, Larry?"
 
"I do, yer honour," Larry replied earnestly. "Three times, when you were in the house, the same man came along the street, and each time I saw him look up at the windows, and somehow I felt that he was following us on our way back. I looked round several times, and each time I fancied I saw a fellow slip into a doorway."
 
"That is serious, Larry. You don't think anyone in this house can have a suspicion of us?"
 
"Not they, yer honour. They all think it's just as you say; that the village was burned, and we have come to look for work in the city. Besides, if it was anyone here, he wouldn't have to take the trouble to track us back."
 
"That's true enough, Larry. No; if there is a suspicion, it must be from some spy in the house of one of the gentlemen I have visited. We know that the leading Catholics are all suspected, and some of the servants may have been bribed to report everything which takes place in the house. We must be very careful; and let us arrange this, Larry, that if there is trouble and we get separated, we will neither of us come back to our lodging, but will meet at that burned-out village three miles along the western road. If anything happens to me, go to the first house I went to, and see Mr. O'Brian, and tell him that I have been taken. If there is anything to be done he will do it. If not, make your way straight back to Limerick. I have told you exactly what has been arranged with people I have seen, and you can tell my father, who will report to the general. But whatever you do, don't stop here with any idea of getting me out of their hands. The most important thing is that they should know, at Limerick, exactly what has been arranged. If you remain here, you would almost certainly be caught also, for, as the man who has followed us will be aware that we are together, a search will at once be made for you. So mind, my orders are, that if you see I am in trouble you are at once to set out for Limerick. If you think that I may manage to get away, you are also to leave at once, but are to wait for me, for twelve hours, at the village three miles out. If I do not come by the end of that time, it will be that I have been taken, and you are to go straight on."
 
It was on the evening when all the arrangements were finally settled, that a loud knocking was heard at the door of the house where eight of the principal persons in the affair were assembled. One of them looked out of the window, and announced that the street was full of soldiers. All leaped to their feet, and drew their swords.
 
"It is of no use to resist, gentlemen," Walter said. "Do you put bottles and glasses on the table, and sit down quietly. I will try to escape. If they find you alone, they can prove nothing against you, and if I get safe off, you also are safe. Is there any way out on to the roof? No doubt the house is watched behind."
 
"There is a trapdoor," the gentleman, in whose house they were, said, and led the way upstairs at full speed. As he was unbolting the trap, Walter ran into a bedroom and seized an armful of blankets, then ran up the ladder to the trapdoor, and stepped out on to the roof. The door was closed behind him, and he heard the bolts drawn, and then his host ran downstairs and told the frightened servants to open the doors, which had so far resisted the attack from without. Headed by an officer, the soldiers rushed in.
 
"What means this violence?" the gentleman asked. "Why is my house broken into in this way?"
 
"I arrest you, and all who are in this house," the officer said, "on the charge of treason."
 
"Treason!" the gentleman said, coolly. "You will find no treason here. I have a few friends upstairs, who are cracking a bottle of port; but that is not, so far as I am aware, against the law."
 
The officer ran upstairs to the room where the others were standing, as if surprised at the tumult, round the table, on which were bottles and half-filled glasses.
 
"Take the names of all these persons," the officer said to the sergeant who followed him, "and then convey them in custody to the castle."
 
"There is no trouble about their names," the host said. "All are well known and peaceful citizens, as can be testified by any magistrate."
 
"Where is the man who was with you?" the officer said, looking round.
 
"There is, so far as I am aware, no one in the house, sir, beyond these gentlemen and my domestics."
 
"It is a lie!" the officer exclaimed, furiously. "A man was seen to enter this house, an hour and a half ago, and no one has left since."
 
"A young man! Oh, I suppose you mean the young fellow who brought me a message from my cousin, at Waterford, and who called to ask if I had yet found him any employment. Oh yes, he has been here, but left some time ago, unless he is chatting with the maids in the kitchen."
 
The officer directed a rigorous search to be made of the house. The soldiers soon reported that every nook and corner had been examined, but that no one was to be found. At this moment, a shot was fired in the street, and a sergeant ran in.
 
"Captain Peters bid me say, sir, that they have just caught sight of a man on the roof of a house, some distance along the street."
 
"Take the prisoners to the castle, under a strong guard, sergeant. You will be answerable for their safety," the officer exclaimed, as he ran downstairs.
 
Directly the trap closed behind him, Walter--sure that some minutes would pass before the method of his escape was known--tore the blankets he had brought with him into wide strips, tied the ends together, and twisted them up into the form of a rope; then, coiling this over his arm, he made his way along the roofs. The street below was now a mass of people. The report that a Popish plot had been discovered, and that a number of important arrests had been............