‘He’s a consummate fool,’ cried Curtis bluntly. ‘He thinks the attack of a police-barrack or the capture of a few firelocks will revolutionise Ireland.’
‘He forgets that there are twelve thousand police, officered by such men as yourself, captain,’ said Nina gravely.
‘Well, there might be worse,’ rejoined Curtis doggedly, for he was not quite sure of the sincerity of the speaker.
‘What will you be the better of taking him?’ said Kilgobbin. ‘If the whole tree be pernicious, where’s the use of plucking one leaf off it?’
‘The captain has nothing to do with that,’ said Atlee, ‘any more than a hound has to discuss the morality of foxhunting—his business is the pursuit.’
‘I don’t like your simile, Mr. Atlee,’ said Nina, while she whispered some words to the captain, and drew him in this way into a confidential talk.
‘I don’t mind him at all, Miss Nina,’ said Curtis; ‘he’s one of those fellows on the press, and they are always saying impertinent things to keep their talents in wind. I’ll tell you, in confidence, how wrong he is. I have just had a meeting with the Chief Secretary, who told me that the popish bishops are not at all pleased with the leniency of the Government; that whatever “healing measures” Mr. Gladstone contemplates, ought to be for the Church and the Catholics; that the Fenians or the Nationalists are the enemies of the Holy Father; and that the time has come for the Government to hunt them down, and give over the rule of Ireland to the Cardinal and his party.’
‘That seems to me very reasonable, and very logical,’ said Nina.
‘Well, it is and it is not. If you want peace in the rabbit-warren, you must banish either the rats or the rabbits; and I suppose either the Protestants or the Papists must have it their own way here.’
‘Then you mean to capture this man?’