In one of the first boats that came alongside sat Bailie Duke wrapped in a great gray plaid.  He hailed one of the petty officers of the cutter, and Mr. Fox came forward and asked him aboard.

“What’s all this about?” said Mr. Duke, addressing the lieutenant as he stepped on the deck.  “I see ye’ve made a prisoner of our pilot.”

“I’ve made prisoner of a smuggler, sir, pilot or not pilot,” said Mr. Fox.

“But on whose authority have you taken the St. Magnus?  Do you not know that she is our pilot boat?” asked the bailie.

“On the highest authority, Mr. Duke—­the Queen’s,” replied the lieutenant.  “If Kinlay was your pilot, then all the greater was his offence.  His men must suffer the penalty for their crime, and I suppose the port must just appoint another pilot, that’s all.”

“His men must suffer, you say?” said Mr. Duke, not understanding.  “Then you do not accuse Carver Kinlay himself of smuggling?”

“I should certainly have done that, Mr. Duke; but Carver Kinlay, unfortunately, is dead.”

“Carver Kinlay dead!” exclaimed the bailie.

“Yes; he lost his life just now in the Gaulton Cave, where we discovered him and his crew in the act of carrying off contraband spirits.

“I suppose,” the officer continued, “we can send the prisoners ashore to your jail, sir?”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Duke; “we’ve plenty of room there:  send them ashore.  But they will be tried at Kirkwall, not here, you know.”

“I know,” returned the officer; “but you see the roads are blocked with this snow.  There’s no getting to Kirkwall except by sea, and I have another little affair of this sort on hand tonight.”

Bailie Duke was naturally inquisitive, and at the mention of this other “little affair” he pricked up his ears.

The lieutenant drew him to the other side of the deck, and they both remained there in earnest conversation.  Mr. Duke had his back towards me.  He had not observed me as yet.  But the cutter’s boat was being got out to take me ashore, and as I was anxious to hear from him whether Thora had been found, I walked across and waited until he should turn round.  As I stood there I heard my own name mentioned.

“Oh, it’s just as clear as daylight!” said the magistrate, in reply to a question from Mr. Fox.  “I have traced it all out.  There is little doubt that it was young Halcro Ericson that did it.”

“Halcro Ericson!  What! the boy Halcro Ericson?” exclaimed the lieutenant with undisguised surprise.  “Why, then, that accounts for our finding him hiding in the cave!  I would never have thought it.”

“What!” said the bailie.  “You don’t mean you have got the lad?”

“Yes, I do, sir; that is if you have no other natives with the same outlandish name.  He’s on board, I assure you.  Ay, and here he is.”

The officer turned round towards me where I stood with my lantern in one hand, and the coil of rope over my shoulder.