“Is he a prisoner?”

“I wouldna say that, though there’s them as think so.  But if it be anybody as is holdin’ him, ‘tis the Senestro an’ his gang o’ guards.”

Watson looked at the other’s uniform, at the purple shako on his head, the jewelled weapon at his side, and the Jaradic leaf on his shoulder—­insignia of a Bar of the highest rank.

“How does it come that you’re a Bar, and a high one at that?”

The other grinned again.  He took off his shako and ran his hand through his mop of red hair.

“‘Tis aither th’ luck of th’ Irish, me lad, or of th’ Scotch.  Oi don’t ken which—­Oi’m haff each—­but mostly ‘tis th’ virtoo av me bonny red hair.”

“Why?”

“Because, leastways, in th’ Thomahlia, there’s always a dhrop av royalty in th’ red-headed.  Me bonnie top-knot has made me a fortune.  Ye see, ‘tis th’ mark av th’ royal Bars themselves; no ithers have it.”

Watson said:  “If you have come from Dr. Holcomb, then you must have a message from him to me.”

“Ye’ve said it; you an’ me, an’ a few Rhamdas, an’ mebbe th’ wee queen is goin’ t’ take a flight in th’ June Bug.  We’re goin’ afther th’ ould doc; an’ ye kin bet there’ll be as pretty a scrap as ever ye looked on.  An’ afther thot’s all over, we’re goin’ t’ take anither kind of a flight—­into good old Frisco.”

Chick instantly asked Pat if he knew where San Francisco might be.

“Faith, ‘tis only th’ ould doc knows, laddie.  But when we git there, ‘tis Pat MacPherson that’s a goin’ for Toddy Maloney.”

“I don’t know that name.”

“Bedad, I do.  Him it was thot give me th’ dhrink.”

“What drink?”

Th’ dhrink thot done it.  Twas a new kind av cocktail.  Ye see, I’d jist got back from Melbourne, an’ I was takin’ in th’ lights that noight, aisy like, whin I come t’ Toddy’s place.  I orders a dhrink av whuskey.

“‘Whist, Pat,’ says he, ’ye don’t want whuskey; ’twill make ye dhrunk.  Why don’t ye take somethin’ green, like th’ Irish?’

“’Green,” says I. ’’Tis a foine colour.  I dinna fear anything thot comes fra’ a bottle.  Pass’er oot!’

“An’ thot he did.  ’Twas ‘creme de menthay’ on th’ bottle.  ‘An’,’ says he, ‘’Twon’t make ye dhrunk.’  But he was a liar, beggin’ yer pardin.

“For by an’ by Oi see his head a growin’ larger an’ larger, until Oi couldn’t see annything but a few loights on th’ cailing, an’ a few people on th’ edges, loike.  An’ afther thot Oi wint oot, an’ walked till Oi come to a hill.  An’ there was a moon, an’ a ould hoose standin’ still, which th’ moon was not.  So Oi stood still to watch it, but bein’ tired an’ weary an’ not havin’ got rid o’ me sea-legs, Oi sat me doon on th’ steps av th’ hoose for a bit av a rest, an’ t’ watch th’ moon, thinkin’ mebbe she’d stand still by an’ by.

“Well, sor, Oi hadn’t been there more’n three ’r four minits, whin th’ door opened, an’ oot steps a little ould lady, aboot th’ littlest an’ ouldest Oi iver see in ’Frisco.