I sat on the table negligently dangling one foot in air. For that matter I didn't like it myself, but I was not going to tell him so. Brushing a speck of mud from my coat I answered carelessly, "Like it or mislike it, devil a bit I care!" "Ha, ha! I theenk you will find a leetle reason for caring," said the Frenchman ominously. "Stab me, if I understand," cried Creagh. "Balmerino did not kidnap you here, did he? Devil take me if it's at all clear to me!" O'Sullivan pushed to the front with an evil laugh. "'T is clear enough to me," he said bluntly. "It's the old story of one too many trusted. He hears our plans and then the smug-faced villain peaches. Next week he sees us all scragged at Tyburn. But he's made a little mistake this time, sink me! He won't live to see the Chevalier O'Sullivan walk off the cart. If you'll give me leave, I'll put a name to the gentleman. He's what they call a spy, and stap my vitals! he doesn't leave this room alive." At his words a fierce cry leaped from tense throats. A circle of white furious faces girdled me about. Rapiers hung balanced at my throat and death looked itchingly at me from many an eye. As for me, I lazed against the table with a strange odd contraction of the heart, a sudden standing still and then a fierce pounding of the blood. Yet I was quite master of myself. Indeed I smiled at them, carelessly, as one that deprecated so much ado about nothing. And while I smiled, the wonder was passing through my mind whether the smile would still be there after they had carved the life out of me. I looked death in the face, and I found myself copying unconsciously the smirking manners of the Macaronis. Faith, 't was a leaf from Volney's life I was rehearsing for them. This but while one might blink an eye, then Lord Balmerino interrupted. "God's my life! Here's a feery-farry about nothing. Put up your toasting fork, De Vallery! The lad will not bite." "Warranted to be of gentle manners," I murmured, brushing again at the Mechlin lace of my coat. "Gentlemen are requested not to tease the animals," laughed Creagh. He was as full of heat as a pepper castor, but he had the redeeming humour of his race. Macdonald beat down the swords. "Are you a' daft, gentlemen? The lad came with Balmerino. He is no spy. Put up, put up, Chevalier! Don't glower at me like that, man! Hap-weel rap-weel, the lad shall have his chance to explain. I will see no man's cattle hurried." "Peste! Let him explain then, and not summer and winter over the story," retorted O'Sullivan sourly. Lord Balmerino slipped an arm through mine. "If you are quite through with your play acting, gentlemen, we will back to reason and common sense again. Mr. Montagu may not be precisely a pronounced Jack, but then he doesn't give a pinch of snuff for the Whigs either. I think we shall find him open to argument." "He'd better be--if he knows what's good for him," growled O'Sullivan.