“Here is the list—don’t strike a light! I can recall their names, I think—some of them anyway——”
“Are any of them Germans?”
“Not one. Your German doesn’t blow himself up with anything but beer. Not he! No; he lights a fuse and legs it! I don’t say he’s a coward. But self-immolation for abstract principle isn’t in him. There have been instances resembling it at sea—probably not genuine—not like that poor sergeant of ours in 1870, who went into the citadel at Laon and shoved a torch into the bin of loose powder under the magazine.... Because the city had surrendered. And Paris was not many miles away.... So he blew himself up with citadel, magazine, all the Prussians in the neighbourhood, and most of the town.... Well—these Irish are planning something of that sort on the Welland Canal.... Murtagh Skeel leads them. The others I remember are Madigan, Cassidy, Dolan, McBride—and that fellow Soane!——”
“Is he one of them?”
“He surely is. He went west on the same train that brought Skeel here. And now I’ll tell you what has been done and why I’m here.
“We haven’t located the power-boat on the lake. But the Canadians are watching for it and your agents are following these Irishmen. When the crew assembles they are to be arrested and their power-boat and explosives seized.
“I and my men have no official standing here, of course—would not be tolerated in any co-operation, officially. But we have a certain understanding with certain authorities.”
Barres nodded.
“You see? Very well. Then, with delicacy and discretion, we keep in touch with Mr. Skeel.... And with other people.... You see?... He is abed in the large house of Mr. Gerhardt over yonder at Northbrook.... Under surveillance.... He moves? We move—very discreetly. You see?”