Flavia propped the sword carefully in an angle of the hearth, and moved forward. "But I do not understand," she said timidly. "We agreed that the sloop and the cargo were to go free if Colonel Sullivan—but you know!" she added, breaking off and addressing her brother. "You were there."
"Is it dreaming you are?" he retorted contemptuously. "Is it we'll be taking note of that now?"
"It was a debt of honour," she said.
"The girl's right," Uncle Ulick said, "and we'll be rid of him."
"We'll be rid of him without that," The McMurrough muttered.
"I am fearing, Mr. Sullivan," the Bishop said, "that it is not quite understood by all that we are embarked upon a matter of the utmost gravity, upon a matter of life and death. We cannot let bagatelles stand in the way. The sloop and her cargo can be made good to her owners—at another time. For your relative and his servant——"
"The shortest way with them!" some one cried. "That's the best and the surest!"
"For them," the Bishop continued, silencing the interruption by a look, "we must not forget that some days must pass before we can hope to get our people together, or to be in a position to hold our own. During the interval we lie at the mercy of an informer. Your own people you know, and can trust to the last gossoon, I'm told. But the same cannot be said of this gentleman—who has very fixed ideas—and his servant. Our lives and the lives of others are in their hands, and it is of the last importance that they be kept secure and silent."
"Ay, silent's the word," Cammock growled.
"There could be no better place than one of the towers," The McMurrough suggested, "for keeping them safe, bedad!"