“Damn glad,” he answered. “I’ll be able to see for myself. One man tells you the country is in the clutches of a murder gang, and the next that some nobler spasm convulses it. All the same I hear work in Ireland is trickier than Continental stunts. On the Continent you have the majority of the nation indifferent to you, and only the official part to circumvent; but in Ireland they say half the nation is waiting to give a man away.” “Why didn’t you come and say you were off?” “I got orders this morning.” “We have been thinking of having a look at Ireland. My wife’s interested in adoption work, and wants to start it over there. We can’t make up our minds.” He looked round. “You?” “Both of us. D’you think we’d find it worth while?” “Probably. Why not come over? You’re people with nothing to do.” “If we do, we’re going to be strictly neutral,” I said. “We want to meet the other side.” He nodded. “It’s not always easy. That’s what a good many want to do. You may do it if you stay neutral.” “We’re going to do it.” “Then make up your minds. You’re sure to run across me if you come to Dublin.” He looked at the watch on his wrist and said, “I must go.” But he did not get up. “You’ve got the pip,” I said. “I’m glad to be on the road,” he answered, rubbing his chin on his stick again; “but it’s a solemn business.” He became suddenly very stern. “An agent requires a better courage than a soldier’s. Once he enters enemy country he does not hear a word in favour of his cause. The very newspapers he must read denounce the Government whose servant he is. Day after day he wages his lonely war. “The man I meet at the Hibernian Hotel at twelve o’clock to-morrow is to be my ‘cousin,’ as we call it. It is my privilege to pour into his ears all my troubles, and he will do his best for me. Once a day, once or twice a week as may be arranged, he will appear at this place or that place at such and such an hour to take my information. This information he will pass on to another man, and this third man is the link with Dublin Castle. “My wife and I will have no other loyal acquaintances, no other person in sympathy with us. While the Irish situation stays as it is we shall have only each other to lean on. Now and again we may pass an acquaintance in the street, and we shall go by without a word, without a nod. How many times must we join in the laugh against us? How many times must we sneer when we love? How many times must we applaud when we scorn?” He looked in front of him and said in a low voice, “Betray once more, 47, that a traitor may be destroyed. Deny once again, 47, that a liar’s mouth may be stopped. Listen this time, 47, that some one else shall listen no more. Stifle your humanity. Fight your lonely fight.” He got up, nodded, and departed.