'Ah!' exclaimed the giant, with a tinge of curiosity, 'and you've papers to destroy at Strogue?'
'Here is a scheme I've drawn out for the capture of Dublin. The lords of the Privy Council----'
'Put it away!' roared the choleric little lawyer. 'Is it the back of me ye want to see? I won't know these things, since I still wear the King's silk gown, yet ye're for ever flourishing them under my nose!'
In a tantrum Mr. Curran departed, like a small snuff-scented whirlwind, accompanied by Phil, who went to fetch his horse.
Terence and Cassidy exchanged glances, and burst into peals of laughter.
'What a character it is!' Cassidy declared, as he busied himself with the brewing of cold punch--a grave matter, in which his companion too was soon equally engrossed.
'A good brew,' Terence announced, presently, amid solemn silence. 'We'll sit up all night, for there's much to be done. To-morrow I shall vanish from the world--in the body.'
'It's curious that you should ever have turned Croppy, Master Terence,' the giant mused, as with cuffs turned up he peeled the lemons. 'You--a member of the Englishry, who may become my Lord Glandore to-morrow--fond as his lordship is of fighting. But then, of course, ye'd change your politics. Sure your head'll come to be worth a big lot, if the rising doesn't succeed--a power of money, surelie!'
'But it shall succeed!' returned Terence, cheerily, 'Then it will be our turn to offer rewards. What will Lord Clare be worth, think you?'
'He'll never fly,' asserted the giant, eyeing his punch with lazy satisfaction. 'When Ould Ireland's fought her fight and conquered, we'll find he's died game in the streets somewhere. His behaviour on the Green to-night was quare, though--devilish quare!--It's absent in the body ye say ye'll be?' he asked, after a pause; 'but present in the spirit, I hope, for Erin's sake?'