“For the pleasure of seeing you, and to—” Mr. Hardy put his hand carelessly in his pocket, a movement which was followed by a metallic jingle—“and just to—to—explain one or two little matters.”
The Secretary observed that he was very tired.
“Are you? I believe I am tired too.”
Mr. Hardy took out a little case-bottle with brandy in it, and the Secretary, without saying a word, produced two mugs and a jug of water. The brandy was mixed by Mr. Hardy; but his share of the spirit differed from that assigned to his friend.
“Split!” he continued; “no, I should think not. But we want you to help us. The Major and one or two more had better be kept out of harm’s way for a little while; and we propose not to hurt them, but to take care of them a bit, you understand? And if, the next time, he and the others will be there—we have been looking for the Major for three or four days, but he is not to be found in his old quarters—we will just give them a call. When will you have your next meeting? They will be all handy then.”
“You can find that out without my help. It’s to-morrow.”
“Ah! I suppose you’ve had a stormy discussion. I hope your moderate counsels prevailed.”
Mr. Secretary winked and gave his head a twist on one side, as if he meant thereby to say: “You don’t catch me.”
“It’s a pity,” continued Mr. Hardy, taking no notice, “that some men are always for rushing into extremities. Why don’t they try and redress their grievances, if they have any, in the legitimate way which you yourself propose—by petition?”
It so happened that a couple of hours before, Mr. Secretary having been somewhat noisy and insubordinate, the Major had been obliged to rule him out of order and request his silence. The insult—for so he considered it—was rankling in him.