e slobbering
gulp of some Teuton, guzzling beer, interrupted the sweltering quiet
of the room.

"Misther Murtagh, sorr," said Soane with a light, careless laugh,
"I've wan recruit f'r to bring ye."

"Who is he?"

"Sure, it's meself, sorr--av ye'll sign the likes o' me."

"Thanks; of course," said Skeel, with one of his rare smiles, and
taking Soane's hand in comradeship.

"I'll go," said Lehr, coolly; "but my name won't do. Call me Grogan,
if you like, and I'll sign with you, Mr. Skeel."

Skeel pressed the offered hand:

"A splendid beginning," he said. "I wanted you both. Now, see what you
can do in the Sinn Fein and Clan-na-Gael for a crew which, please God,
we shall require very soon!"

XIII

A MIDNIGHT TETE-A-TETE

When Dulcie had entered the studio that evening, her white face
smeared with blood and a torn letter clutched in her hand, the
gramophone was playing a lively two-step, and Barres and Thessalie
Dunois were dancing there in the big, brilliantly lighted studio, all
by themselves.

Thessalie caught sight of Dulcie over Barres's shoulder, hastily
slipped out of his arms, and hurried across the polished floor.

"What is the matter?" she asked breathlessly, a fearful intuition
already enlightening her as her startled glance travelled from the
blood on Dulcie's face to the torn fragments of paper in her rigidly
doubled fingers.

Barres, coming up at the same moment, slipped a firm arm around
Dulcie's shoulders.

"Are you badly hurt, dear? What has happened?" he asked very quietly.

She looked up at him, mute, her bruised mouth quivering, and held out
the remains of the letter. And Thessalie Dunois caught her breath
sharply as her eyes fell on the bits of paper covered with her own
handwriting.

"There was a man hiding in the court," said Dulcie. "He wore a white
cloth over his face and he came up behind me and tried to snatch your
letter out of my hand; but I held fast and he only tore it in two."

Barres stared at the sheaf of torn paper, lying crumpled up in his
open hand, then his amazed gaze rested on Thessalie:

"Is this the letter you wrote to me?" he inquired.

"Yes. May I have the remains of my letter?" she asked calmly.

He handed over the bits of paper without a word, and she opened her
gold-mesh bag and dropped them in.

There was a moment's silence, then Barres said:

"Did he strike you, Dulcie?"

"Yes, when he thought he couldn't get away from me."

"You hun