No Defense | Page 8

man with respectful familiarity.
Captain Ivy and Dyck grinned, but the head of the house seemed none
too pleased at the freedom of the old butler.
"Bring him as he is," said Miles Calhoun. "Good God!" he added, for
he just realized that the stamp of the seal was that of the
Attorney-General of Ireland.
Then he read the letter and a flush swept over his face, making its red
almost purple.
"Eternal damnation--eternal damnation!" he declared, holding the paper
at arm's length a moment, inspecting it. He then handed it to Dyck.
"Read that, lad. Then pack your bag, for we start for Dublin by daylight
or before."
Dyck read the brief document and whistled softly to himself.
"Well, well, you've got to obey orders like that, I suppose," Dyck said.
"They want to question us as to the state of the country here."
"I think we can tell them something. I wonder if they know how wide
your travel is, how many people you see; and if they know, how did
they come to know? There's spies all over the place. How do I know
but the man who's just left this room isn't a spy, isn't the enemy of all of
us here?"
"I'd suspect Michael Clones," remarked Dyck, "just as soon as
Mulvaney."
"Michael Clones," said his father, and he turned to Captain Ivy,
"Michael Clones I'd trust as I'd trust His blessed Majesty, George III.

He's a rare scamp, is Michael Clones! He's no thicker than a cardboard,
but he draws the pain out of your hurt like a mustard plaster. A man of
better sense and greater roguery I've never met. You must see him,
Captain Ivy. He's only about twelve years older than my son, but, like
my son, there's no holding him, there's no control of him that's any
good. He does what he wants to do in his own way--talks when he
wants to talk, fights when he wants to fight. He's a man of men, is
Michael Clones."
At that moment the door opened and the butler entered, followed by a
tall, thin, Don Quixote sort of figure.
"His excellency," said Mulvaney, with a look slightly malevolent, for
the visitor had refused his name. Then he turned and left the room.
At Mulvaney's words, an ironical smile crossed the face of the
newcomer. Then he advanced to Miles Calhoun. Before speaking,
however, he glanced sharply at Captain Ivy, threw an inquisitive look
at Dyck, and said:
"I seem to have hurt the feelings of your butler, sir, but that cannot be
helped. I have come from the Attorney-General. My name is Leonard
Mallow--I'm the eldest son of Lord Mallow. I've been doing business in
Limerick, and I bring a message from the Attorney-General to ask you
to attend his office at the earliest moment."
Dyck Calhoun, noting his glance at a bottle of port, poured out a glass
of the good wine and handed it over, saying:
"It'll taste better to you because you've been travelling hard, but it's
good wine anyhow. It's been in the cellar for forty years, and that's
something in a land like this."
Mallow accepted the glass of port, raised it with a little gesture of
respect, and said:
"Long life to the King, and cursed be his enemies!" So saying he flung
the wine down his throat--which seemed to gulp it like a well--wiped

his lips with a handkerchief, and turned to Miles Calhoun again.
"Yes, it's good wine," he said; "as good as you'd get in the cellars of the
Viceroy. I've seen strange things as I came. I've seen lights on the hills,
and drunken rioters in the roads and behind hedges, and once a shot
was fired at me; but here I am, safe and sound, carrying out my orders.
What time will you start?" he added.
He took it for granted that the summons did not admit of rejection, and
he was right. The document contained these words:
Trouble is brewing; indeed, it is at hand. Come, please, at once to
Dublin, and give the Lord-Lieutenant and the Government a report
upon your district. We do not hear altogether well of it, but no one has
the knowledge you possess. In the name of His Majesty you are to
present yourself at once at these offices in Dublin, and be assured that
the Lord-Lieutenant will give you warm welcome through me. Your
own loyalty gives much satisfaction here. I am, sir, Your obedient
servant, JOHN MCNOWELL.
"You have confidence in the people's loyalty here?" asked Mallow.
"As great as in my own," answered Dyck cheerily. "Well, you ought to
know what that is. At the same time, I've heard you're a friend of one or
two dark spirits in the land."
"I