Now Jug Coyle (mistress of the shebeen hard-by)--this was a tremendous secret--was deeply involved in the affairs of the society. Her back garden contained many more pike-heads than praties. It stood to reason that she should be so involved, for was she not a collough, a trafficker in charms and simples, who was called in by the peasantry around for the curing of their bodily ills; and was it possible for one who was bone of their bone to refrain from meddling with their wrongs also? Well, she could store no more without awaking the suspicions of the Staghouse gentry, who seemed already to suspect that seditious meetings were held under her thatch; and yet it was very necessary that many more weapons should be stored somewhere in the immediate neighbourhood of the city. The question was, where could a spot be found for them to lie snugly--a place where folks would least suspect their existence? The giant was becoming so earnest, and so lucid in his earnestness, that Doreen quite marvelled at him. She knew more of Jug Coyle's manage than he was aware of, and listened with growing interest, for red-polled Biddy, whilst acting as Theobald's post-office, was constantly declaring that she felt like living on a powder-magazine. 'It has been suggested,' the giant went on, 'that Mrs. Gillin of the Little House should take some; but that would not be wise, for she is a Catholic whose opinions are well known, though latterly she has cultivated a discreet tongue. It might enter the head of the town-major to search her place.' 'It would certainly be unwise!' Terence said. 'Remember her daughter's connection with my brother. May she be trusted? There are female spies as well as male, I suppose. You people are dreadfully rash, Cassidy.' 'Never fear, Master Terence,' returned the giant, with a twinkle in his eye. 'Both she and her daughter are children of the people, who would sacrifice this lord and many another to boot for the good cause, if need were. Her heart is with us, like many another; but in this case at least it's best she should play blind.' 'But what is your suggestion?' Doreen inquired, for the giant was beating about the bush in an exasperating manner. 'This is it. Don't cry out now when ye hear it.' He glanced round with caution, and lowered his voice. 'The ould armoury above in the young men's wing there.' 'What! Here at the Abbey!' Terence exclaimed. 'You are mad.' Cassidy was watching him in sidelong fashion as he felt his way. 'Sure there's a power of blackguard knives there already, which no one touches from year's end to year's end, as the cobwebs show. I'd stake my life ye've not been in there yourself this year or two. Nobody would search there, would they? They might be passed up from the shebeen at night-time--Biddy and your man Phil would see to it--over the old ivy wall, and exchange a kiss or two into the bargain.' 'Phil is not affiliated,' objected Terence.