Philip had signalled a cabman to stop.  He stood facing his cousin with a close-lipped smile that summarised his opinion and made it readable.

‘I have no time for an introduction to her this morning,’ he said.

’You won’t drop in on Distell to hear the latest brewing?  And, by the by, Phil, tell us, could you give us a hint for packing five or six hundred rifles and a couple of pieces of cannon?’

Philip stared; he bent a lowering frown on his cousin, with a twitch at his mouth.

‘Oh! easy!’ Con answered the look; ’it’s for another place and harder to get at.’

He was eyed suspiciously and he vowed the military weapons were for another destination entirely, the opposite Pole.

‘No, you wouldn’t be in for a crazy villainy like that!’ said Philip.

‘No, nor wink to it,’ said Con.  ’But it’s a question about packing cannon and small arms; and you might be useful in dropping a hint or two.  The matter’s innocent.  It’s not even a substitution of one form of Government for another:  only a change of despots, I suspect.  And here’s Mr. John Mattock himself, who’ll corroborate me, as far as we can let you into the secret before we’ve consulted together.  And he’s an Englishman and a member of Parliament, and a Liberal though a landlord, a thorough stout Briton and bulldog for the national integrity, not likely to play at arms and ammunition where his country’s prosperity ‘s concerned.  How d’ ye do, Mr. Mattock—­and opportunely, since it’s my cousin, Captain Philip O’Donnell, aide-de-camp to Sir Charles, fresh from Canada, of whom you’ve heard, I’d like to make you acquainted with, previous to your meeting at my wife’s table tomorrow evening.’

Philip bowed to a man whose notion of the ceremony was to nod.

Con took him two steps aside and did all the talking.  Mr. Mattock listened attentively the first half-minute, after which it could be perceived that the orator was besieging a post, or in other words a Saxon’s mind made up on a point of common sense.  His appearance was redolently marine; his pilot coat, flying necktie and wideish trowsers, a general airiness of style on a solid frame, spoke of the element his blue eyes had dipped their fancy in, from hereditary inclination.  The colour of a sandpit was given him by hair and whiskers of yellow-red on a ruddy face.  No one could express a negative more emphatically without wording it, though he neither frowned nor gesticulated to that effect.

‘Ah!’ said Con, abruptly coming to an end after an eloquent appeal.  ’And I think I’m of your opinion:  and the sea no longer dashes at the rock, but makes itself a mirror to the same.  She’ll keep her money and nurse her babe, and not be trying risky adventures to turn him into a reigning prince.  Only this:  you’ll have to persuade her the thing is impossible.  She’ll not take it from any of us.  She looks on you as Wisdom in the uniform of a great commander, and if you say a thing can be done it ’s done.’