ho wants
to lead a Clan-na-Gael raid into Canada or head a death-battalion to
free Ireland. You've read about him in the papers, Dulcie?"

"Yes ... I want to talk to you alone----" She blushed and dropped a
confused little curtsey to Thessalie: "Would you please pardon my
rudeness----"

"You darling!" said Thessalie, blowing her a swift, gay kiss. "Go and
talk to your best friend in peace!"

Barres rose and walked away slowly beside Dulcie. They stood still
when out of earshot. She said:

"I have a few of my mother's letters.... She knew a young man whose
name was Murtagh Skeel.... He was her dear friend. But only in secret.
Because I think her father and mother disliked him.... It would seem
so from her letters and his.... And she was--in love with him.... And
he with mother.... Then--I don't know.... But she came to America with
father. That is all I know. Do you believe he can be the same man?"

"Murtagh Skeel," repeated Barres. "It's an unusual name. Possibly he
is the same man whom your mother knew. I should say he might have been
about your mother's age, Dulcie. He is a romantic figure now--one of
those dreamy, graceful, impractical patriots--an enthusiast with one
idea and that an impossible one!--the freedom of Ireland wrenched by
force from the traditional tyrant, England."

He thought a moment, then:

"Whatever the fault, and wherever lies the blame for Ireland's unrest
to-day, this is no time to start rebellion. Who strikes at England now
strikes at all Freedom in the world. Who conspires against England
to-day conspires with barbarism against civilisation.

"My outspoken sympathy of yesterday must remain unspoken to-day. And
if it be insisted on, then it will surely change and become hostility.
No, Dulcie; the line of cleavage is clean: it is Light against
Darkness, Right against Might, Truth against Falsehood, and Christ
against Baal!

"This man, Murtagh Skeel, is a dreamer, a monomaniac, and a dangerous
fanatic, for all his winning and cultivated personality and the
personal purity of his character.... It is an odd coincidence if he
was once your mother's friend--and her suitor, too."

Dulcie stood before him, her head a trifle lowered, listening to what
he said. When he ended, she looked up at him, then across the studio
where Westmore had taken her place on the sofa beside Thessalie. They
both seemed to be absorbed in a conversation which interested them
immensely.

Dulcie hesitated, then