an-na-Gael!" retorted Soane,
excitedly. "Musha----"

"For why you yell?" yawned Freund, displaying a very yellow fang. "Dot
big secret service slob, he iss in the bar hinunter. Perhaps he hear
you if like a pig you push forth cries."

Lehr raised his eyebrows; then, carelessly:

"He's only a State agent. Johnny Klein is keeping an eye on him. What
does that big piece of cheese expect to get by hanging out in my
bar?"

Freund yawned again, appallingly; Soane said:

"I wonder is that purty Frinch girrl agin us Irish?"

"What does she care about the Irish?" replied Lehr. "Her danger to us
lies in the fact that she may blab about Ferez to some Frenchman, and
that he may believe her in spite of all the proof they have in Paris
against her. Max," he added, turning to Freund, "it's funny that Ferez
doesn't do something to her."

"I haff no orders."

"Maybe you'll get 'em when Ferez reads that letter. He's certainly
not going to let that girl go about blabbing and writing letters----"

Soane struck the table with doubled fist:

"Ye'll do no vi'lence to anny wan!" he cut in. "The Sinn Fein will
shtand for no dirrty wurruk in America! Av you set fires an' blow up
plants, an' kidnap ladies, an' do murther, g'wan, ye Dootch
scuts!--it's your business, God help us!--not ours.

"All we axe of ye is machine-goons, an' rifles, an' ships to land
them; an' av ye don't like it, phway th' divil d'ye come botherin' th'
likes of us Irish wid y'r proppygandy! Sorra the day," he added, "I
tuk up wid anny Dootchman at all at all----"

Lehr and Freund exchanged expressionless glances. The former dropped a
propitiating hand on Soane's shoulder.

"Can it," he said good-humouredly. "We're trying to help you Irish to
what you want. You want Irish independence, don't you? All right.
We're going to help you get it----"

A bell rang; Lehr sprang to his feet and hastened out through the iron
door, drawing his black-jack from his hip pocket as he went.

He returned in a few moments, followed by a very good-looking but
pallid man in rather careless evening dress, who had the dark eyes of
a dreamer and the delicate features of a youthful acolyte.

He saluted the company with a peculiarly graceful gesture, which
recognition even the gross creatures at the skat table returned with
visible respect.

Soane, always deeply impressed by the presence of Murtagh Skeel,
offered his chair and drew another one to the table.

Skeel accepted with