‘Can’t be explained--nothing could justify--infernal blunder--and must go.’ ‘Pray, my lord, vouchsafe me even five minutes.’ ‘See it all--balderdash--explain nothing--Cardinal more offended than the rest--and here, read.’ And he pushed a letter towards him, dated Downing Street, and marked private. ‘The idiot you left behind you has been betrayed into writing to the rebels and making conditions with them. To disown him now is not enough.’ ‘Really, my lord, I don’t see why I should submit to the indignity of reading more of this.’ His Excellency crushed the letter in his hand, and puffed very vigorously at his pipe, which was nearly extinguished. ‘Must go,’ said he at last, as a fresh volume of smoke rolled forth. ‘That I can believe--that I can understand, my lord. When you tell me you cease to endorse my pledges, I feel I am a bankrupt in your esteem.’ ‘Others smashed in the same insolvency--inconceivable blunder--where was Cartwright?--what was Holmes about? No one in Dublin to keep you out of this cursed folly?’ ‘Until your lordship’s patience will permit me to say a few words, I cannot hope to justify my conduct.’ ‘No justifying--no explaining--no! regular smash and complete disgrace. Must go.’ ‘I am quite ready to go. Your Excellency has no need to recall me to the necessity.’ ‘Knew it all--and against my will, too--said so from the first--thing I never liked--nor see my way in. Must go--must go.’ ‘I presume, my lord, I may leave you now. I want a bath and a cup of coffee.’ ‘Answer that!’ was the gruff reply, as he tossed across the table a few lines signed, ‘Bertie Spencer, Private Secretary.’ ‘“I am directed to request that Mr. Walpole will enable the Right Honourable Mr. Annihough to give the flattest denial to the inclosed.”’ ‘That must be done at once,’ said the Viceroy, as the other ceased to read the note. ‘It is impossible, my lord; I cannot deny my own handwriting.’ ‘Annihough will find some road out of it,’ muttered the other. ‘_You_ were a fool, and mistook your instructions, or the _constable_ was a fool and required a misdirection, or the _Fenian_ was a fool, which he would have been if he gave the pledge you asked for. Must go, all the same.’ ‘But I am quite ready to go, my lord,’ rejoined Walpole angrily. ‘There is no need to insist so often on that point.’ ‘Who talks--who thinks of _you_, sir?’ cried the other, with an irritated manner. ‘I speak of myself. It is _I_ must resign--no great sacrifice, perhaps, after all; stupid office, false position, impracticable people. Make them all Papists to-morrow, and ask to be Hindus. They’ve got the land, and not content if they can’t shoot the landlords!’ ‘If you think, my lord, that by any personal explanation of mine, I could enable the Minister to make his answer in the House more plausible--’