And nobody, at that time, had guessed at the part which submarines
were to play in war. Civilians, even well-informed men like Gorman,
regarded submarines as toys, chiefly dangerous to the crews who manned
them. Phillips probably knew how they were propelled. Gorman did not.
He had never given a thought to the subject. Like most of the rest of
us he associated petrol only with motor-cars or possibly with flying
machines. It did not connect itself in his mind with submarines.

"That Emperor!" said Gorman. "I'm hanged if I understand."

"The Emperor?" said the Queen. "Why should the Emperor be mixed up
with it?"

"Why should the Emperor be mixed up with the island?" said Gorman.
"Why should the Emperor be mixed up with you? Why should the Emperor
be mixed up with anything? I don't know. I can't guess. But it was the
Emperor who sent the stuff here."

Phillips was a young man of practical mind, very little given to
inquiring into causes and reasons. But he had a thoroughly British
respect for the rights of property and the privileges of ownership.

"Anyhow," he said, "he's no earthly right to dump his stuff here
without asking leave. Salissa isn't his island."

From the tap which he had already turned on the petrol was flowing
freely. It trickled down among the stones, and some of it had already
reached the sea. It was spreading, a smooth, thin film across the
water of the cave.

"I vote we run it all off," he said.

He looked at the Queen and then at Gorman.

"If a man puts his cow on my lawn," said Gorman, "I suppose I've a
right to turn it out again."

That was approval enough for Phillips. He walked deliberately along
the line of cisterns, turning on the taps as he went.

"Hold on a minute," said Gorman. "We don't want the stuff flowing over
the Queen's shoes. She must get into the boat."

A few minutes later the water of the cave was entirely covered with
petrol. The air was acrid with the smell of it. The Queen held her
handkerchief to her nose.

"Let's get out of this as quick as we can," she said.

CHAPTER XIX

The next fortnight was something of a disappointment to Gorman. He
admits that. He had made his choice between Ireland and Salissa. It
certainly seemed as if he had chosen wrongly. I remember--everybody
remembers--how exciting Irish affairs were during the latter half of
July, 1914. The country was like a pot, full of water on the verge of
boiling. Every day an event of some sor