Nothing remained but to fix a day. New Year's Eve was suggested, in order that the year 1798 might be well begun. It was amazing and disheartening to find how impossible it was for Pat to keep a secret. A week before the old year expired, proclamations appeared on all the walls, which showed that Government was aware of what was doing. Each householder was commanded, under pain of flogging, to chalk a list on the outer door of the persons who dwelt upon his premises; with the exception (so ran the quaint document) of those who might be suffering from pecuniary embarrassment, whose names were to be transmitted privately to the Lord Mayor. He was likewise bidden to see that no one under his roof went forth into the street between nine at night and five in the morning. Could the conspirators doubt that somehow their every movement was reported?
Madam Gillin, who, strive to control herself as she would, was feverishly excited about the future, discussed the plot in all its bearings with her guest when shutters were shut and curtains drawn. It was a marvel, she declared, that his retreat had remained so long undiscovered. It was a narrow escape though, when the yeomanry arrived; but that was evidently due to accident. There was no cause to suspect treachery there. It spoke well for the country chiefs--at least the few who had been let into the secret; for a thousand pounds is a tidy nest-egg--a by no means despicable windfall. She liked those leaders whom she had seen when pretending to visit her doctor in Dublin. The best of them was a certain Mr. Bagenal Harvey--a nice gintleman--one of the few who has much personal property at stake. 'He's prudent too, for an Irishman. And so are you, my child!' she remarked, laying a plump hand affectionately on his arm. 'You've never even told your mother where you're hid. I verily believe she hates me so that, if she knew, she'd write and tell the chancellor!'
'I fear she doesn't care,' returned Terence, sadly. 'Nor does Doreen.'
The strange look of compassion flitted across the face of his hostess which he had observed there before. She muttered something which he did not catch, but he knew by the tone that it was uncomplimentary to her ladyship.
'You mustn't think ill of my lady,' he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. 'Indeed, she so dotes on Shane that there's no room in her heart for poor me! He quite filled up that shrine before ever I came into the world. If I thought she would have been anxious, I would have informed her. But nobody cared, so I told nobody--except one.'
'You told some one! Who was that?'
'A trusty old friend of long standing--true as gold, if a little stupid--Tim Cassidy. By-the-bye, he said you didn't like him. He's good, but not clever; though I've been a little shaken of late as to the weakness of his intellect. It's wonderful how circumstances bring people out!'
Madam Gillin sat bolt upright, her fat hands clasped round her fat knees.
'You told him!' she cried aghast.
'Yes. Do not fear. He's playing a useful game, if a shady one. Each of us must do what he can, you know.'