“That may be your opinion, Mr. M'Clutchy,” said Sir William, “and your practice, for aught I know; but, permit me to say, that it is not the opinion of a gentleman, a man of honor, nor of any honest man, however humble.”
“I perfectly agree with you, Sir William,” said Hartley, “and I despise the government which can stoop to such discreditable treachery, for it is nothing else. The government that could adopt such a tool as this Browbeater, would not scruple to violate the sanctity either of private life or public confidence, if it suited their interest—nay, I question whether they would not be guilty of a felony itself, and open the very letters in the post-office, which are placed there under the sacred seal of public faith. However, never mind; proceed with the calendar.”
“Here is the case of some of your wreckers, M'Clutchy, charged here with illegally, maliciously, and violently pulling down several houses in the village of Crockaniska—assaulting and maltreating the unoffending inhabitants.”
“Halt there a moment,” said Val; “rebels, every man of the said inhabitants, which I can prove. My men, who are remarkable for their Protestantism and loyalty, went upon private information—”
“More of the spy system,” said Hartley, smiling.
“Mr. Hartley, you may smile, but truth is truth,” replied Val; “we had private information that they had arms and rebellious papers, and the latter we have got under the thatch of their cabins.”
“Private information!—still more of the spy system,” repeated Hartley, smiling again.
“But not the arms?” asked Sir William.
“No, Sir William, not the arms; the rebels were too quick for us there.”
“Then, they expected you it seems,” observed Hartley; “and, if so, when taking away the arms, I am anxious to know why they should have been such fools as to leave the papers behind them.”