"Then the Minister's our man," said Anne with decision. "If Arthur fails with him, then every soul of us must move on London like an Irish army, and win or die. So, my dear Honora, take the puckers out of your face, and keep your heart light. I know a way to make Quincy Livingstone dance to any music I play."
The smiles came back to Honora's face, hearts grew lighter, and Arthur started for London, with little confidence in the good-will of Livingstone, but more in his own ability to force the gentleman to do his duty. He ran up against a dead wall in his mission, however, for the question of interference on behalf of American citizens in English jails had been settled months before in a conference between Livingstone and the Premier, although feeling was cold and almost hostile between the two governments. Lord Constantine described the position with the accuracy of a theorist in despair.
"There's just a chance of doing something for Ledwith," he said dolorously.
"By your looks a pretty poor one, I think," Arthur commented.
"Oh, it's got to be done, doncheknow," he said irritably. "But that da—that fool, Livingstone, is spoiling the stew with his rot. And I've been watching this pot boil for five years at least."
"What's wrong with our representative?" affecting innocence.
"What's right with him would be the proper question," growled his lordship.
"In Ledwith's case the wrong is that he's gone and given assurances to the government. He will not interfere with their disposition of Fenian prisoners, when these prisoners are American citizen. In other words, he has given the government a free hand. He will not be inclined to show Ledwith any favor."
"A free hand," repeated Arthur, fishing for information. "And what is a free hand?"
"Well, he could hamper the government very much when it is trying an American citizen for crimes committed on British soil. Such a prisoner must get all the privileges of a native. He must be tried fairly, as he would be at home, say."