ow of violence fallen on the room. Uncle Ulick could be heard
protesting, but no one heeded him.

"You must surrender!" the Bishop repeated firmly. He too was a trifle
pale, but he was used to such scenes and he spoke with decision.

"Resistance is vain. I hope that with this lady in the room----"

"One moment!" the Colonel cried, raising his hand. But as The
McMurrough and the others hesitated, he whipped out his sword and
stepped two paces to one side with an agility no one had foreseen. He
now had the table behind him and Uncle Ulick on his left hand. "One
moment!" he repeated, raising his hand in deprecation and keeping his
point lowered. "Do you consider----"

"We consider our own safety," Cammock answered grimly. And signing to
one of the men to join Darby at the door, he drew his cutlass. "You
know too much to go free, sir, that is certain."

"Ay, faith, you do," The McMurrough chimed in with a sort of glee. "He
was at Tralee yesterday, no less. And for a little we'll have the
garrison here before the time!"

"But by the powers," Uncle Ulick cried, "ye shall not hurt him! Your
reverence!"--the big man's voice shook--"your reverence, this shall not
be! It's not in this house they shall murder him, and him a Sullivan!
Flavia, speak, girl," he continued, the perspiration standing on his
brow. "Say ye'll not have it. After all, it's your house! By G--d, it
is your house. And, by the Holy Cross, there shall be no Sullivan blood
spilt in it while I am standing by to prevent it!"

"Then let him give up his sword!" Cammock answered doggedly.

"Yes, let him give up his sword," Flavia said in a small voice.

"Colonel Sullivan," the Bishop interposed, stepping forward, "I hope
you'll hear reason. Resistance is vain. You know as well as I do that
at a word from us our friends outside would deal with you, and roughly.
Give up your sword and----"

"And _presto_!" Cammock cried, "or take the consequences!" He had
edged his way, while the Bishop spoke, round Ulick and round the head
of the table. Now, with his foot on the bench, he was ready at a word
to spring on the table, and take the Colonel in the rear. It was clear
that he was a man of action. "Down with your sword, sir," he cried
flatly.

Colonel John recognised the weakness of his position. Before him the
young men were five to one, with old Sir Donny and Timothy Burke in the
rear. On his flank the help which Ulick might give was discounted by
the move Cammo