Meantime, O'Hara was in conversation with Loveday in the Regent's library, nearer the centre of which stood a group of four with their heads together—Prime Minister, First Lord, War Office Secretary, a Naval Lord; further still, a spurred General, cloaked over his out-stuck sword, writing, with a wet white brow; and, “I suppose he will want to see you”, said Loveday, “if you have anything to say. But the doctors have first to be reckoned with: I suppose you know that he has been stabbed and beaten”.
“Stabbed! by whom?”
“By Harris”.
“No! When?”
“This afternoon”.
“Ah! I did not know”.
“It was by your recommendation, it appears, that Harris became Captain Macnaghten's servant”, said Loveday with his smile, looking very gaunt and bent-down.
“Tut, sir!”—from O'Hara—“you are not my judge: I am here to see the Lord of the Sea, my King”.
“Ah!—you still give him the title”.
And now O'Hara, drawing his chair nearer to ask: “How did he take it?” stretching back the waiting mouth to hear that thing.