Nancy soon re-appeared, and familiarly taking the arm of Cornbury, led him to the eastern side of the platform, asking him many questions.  As soon as he was there, the leader of the gang, followed by half a dozen of his men, rushed out and secured him.  Cornbury now felt assured that all was discovered, and that his life was forfeited.  “Bind him fast,” said the leader, “and keep watch over him;—­his case shall soon be disposed of.  Nancy, you will call me at daylight.”

When Cornbury had been secured, the men returned into the cave, leaving one with a loaded pistol to guard him.  Nancy still remained on the watch.

“Nancy Corbett,” said Cornbury, “why am I treated thus?”

“Why?” replied Nancy, with scorn; “ask yourself why.  Do you think that I did not know when I sought you at the beach that you had sailed in the cutter, had brought the boats here, and that if it had not been for the lieutenant taking his dog in the boat, and its barking, you would have delivered us all into the hands of the Philistines?—­wretched traitor.”

“D—­n!” muttered Cornbury; “then it is to you, you devil, that I am indebted for being entrapped this way.”

“Yes, to me,” replied Nancy, with scorn.  “And, depend upon it, you will have your deserts before the sun is one hour in the heavens.”

“Mistress Nancy, I must beg you to walk your watch like a lady, and not to be corresponding with my prisoner anyhow, whether you talk raison or traison, as may happen to suit your convanience,” observed the man who was guard over Cornbury.

“Be aisy, my jewel,” replied Nancy, mimicking the Irishman, “and I’ll be as silent as a magpie, anyhow.  And, Mr Fitzpatrick, you’ll just be pleased to keep your two eyes upon your prisoner, and not be staring at me, following me up and down, as you do, with those twinklers of yours.”

“A cat may look at a king, Mistress Nancy, and no harm done either.”

“You forget, Mr Fitzpatrick,” replied Nancy, “that I am now a modest woman.”

“More’s the pity, Mrs Nancy, I wish you’d forget it too, and I dying of love for you.”

Nancy walked away to the end of the platform to avoid further conversation.  The day was now dawning, and as, by degrees, the light was thrown upon the face of Cornbury, it was strange to witness how his agitation and his fear had changed all the ruby carbuncles on his face to a deadly white.  He called to Nancy Corbett in a humble tone once or twice as she passed by in her walk, but received no reply further than a look of scorn.  As soon as it was broad daylight, Nancy went into the cave to call up the leader.

In a few minutes he appeared, with the rest of the smugglers.

“Philip Cornbury,” said he, with a stern and unrelenting countenance, “you would have betrayed us for the sake of money.”

“It is false,” replied Cornbury.

“False, is it?—­you shall have a fair trial.  Nancy Corbett, give your evidence before us all.”