is social engagements. He ransacked the
shelves of booksellers for works dealing with contemporary Irish
politics. He harried the managers of press-cutting companies for
newspaper reports of speeches on Home Rule. These were things for
which there was little or no demand, and the press-cutting people
resented being asked for them. He even interviewed political leaders.
These gentlemen received him coldly at first, suspecting from his
appearance that he wanted to get a chance of earning L400 a year as a
member of Parliament, and hoped to persuade them to find him a
constituency. When they discovered that he was the private secretary
of a famous millionaire their manner changed and they explained the
policies of their various parties in such ways as seemed likely to
draw large cheques from Conroy.

Bob reported what they said, summarized the letters of the
disappointed hostesses, and piled Conroy's table with books,
pamphlets, and newspaper cuttings. The whole business bored and
worried him. The idea that Conroy actually contemplated organizing a
rebellion in Ireland never crossed his mind. He hoped that the
political enthusiasm of his patron would die away as quickly as it had
sprung up. It was therefore a surprise to him when, after a few
weeks' hard reading, Conroy announced his decision.

"I'm going into this business," he said.

"Politics?" said Bob.

"Politics be damned! What I'm out for is a revolution."

"You can't do it," said Bob. "I told you at the start that those
fellows won't fight. They haven't it in them to stand up and be shot
at."

"I'm thinking of the other fellows," said Conroy.

"What other fellows?" he asked.

"Belfast," said Conroy.

Bob whistled.

"But," he said, "but--but--" The extraordinary nature of the idea made
him stammer. "But they are Loyalists."

"As I figure it out," said Conroy, "they mean to rebel. That's what
they say, anyhow, and I believe they mean it. I don't care a cent
whether they call themselves Loyalists or not. It's up to them to
twist the British Lion's tail, and I'm with them."

"Do you think they really mean it?" said Bob.

"Do you?"

"Well," said Bob, after a slight hesitation, "I do. You see I happen
to know one of them pretty well."

Bob showed political discernment. It was the fashion in England and
throughout three-quarters of Ireland to laugh at Belfast. Nobody
believed that a community of merchants, manufacturers and artisans
actually meant to