"Hullo, Richards! is that you?" Mr. Brown exclaimed, extending his hand.
"Ah, excuse me, sir; I didn't recognize you. Sorry to be obliged to stop you, sir, but have got positive orders to admit only those having business."
"Then we are just the ones to pass, for we have business of importance with the commissioner."
"Ah, that alters the case. Pass in, gentlemen;" and as the soldiers lowered their bayonets, we slipped past them, and in a few minutes found ourselves in the ante-room of the commissioner.
"You had better go in alone, for I can be of no service to you," whispered Mr. Brown; and I felt the truth of the remark.
I boldly followed an officer into the commissioner's room, and soon found myself in the presence of Kellum, the commissioner, and half a dozen captains and lieutenants.
"I tell you, that every dog of them should be shot, and then you'll hear no more of taxes and rebellion. That's the way I'd punish treason, and it will be effectual. We should have no more meetings and political speeches by men who don't know what they are ranting about. We have got the rebels at our feet. Let us trample upon them."
"It will not do," replied the commissioner, mildly, with his usual crafty calculation. "The home government will hear of the matter, and rake us over the coals for it. Besides, the newspapers would raise a prodigious row, and then Parliament will have to appoint a commissioner of inquiry. No, no; I've thought the matter over carefully, and I'm convinced that we should get awfully blackballed if we shoot the rascals, although"—and he smiled and rubbed his hands with glee—"I should like the sport."
"Say but the word, and in fifteen minutes every dog of them shall be dead," cried the colonel, who, having tasted blood, wished for more.