'I don't say that!' stammered Curran, somewhat confused. 'I only say that your threshold might be invaded at any moment, and that ye've yourselves to thank if ye get into a hopeless scrape. A few hours since, a carpenter who is under obligation to me was at work in Ely Place. While repairing the floor between two double doors he distinctly heard Lord Clare in conversation with the town-major, in which Sirr told his chief that there would be a strong muster to-night in this boy's chambers. Am I making too free in asking you to lock away those documents, or would ye prefer hanging at once to save trouble? The carpenter wrenched off a hinge and begged to be allowed to fetch a new one; but instead of going straight to the ironmonger's he ran to me with commendable speed, gave the office, and returned to his work. What it all means I am not in a position to say; but mark my words, you have a traitor in your midst, who reports to the enemy every word you utter. Your necks are your own, to do with as you like; but I'm responsible for you, Terence, to your mother, and I summon you to go away with me.' Tom Emmett flushed scarlet, and involuntarily placed a hand upon the pistol in his breast. A low murmur went round the room as Cassidy sprang to his feet. 'Take care!' he shouted, 'how ye bring vague charges. Many a disfigured corpse has Moiley eaten--many an informer has floated out to sea. Give a name--only a name--and I'll scrunch the spalpeen so flat that ye'll not know him from a sheet of paper, save for the coat on him!' Curran shrugged his shoulders. 'Do you think if I knew the scoundrel I'd not have pointed at him long ago? It's for you to find him out. Don't glare at me, man--I'm not a youngster who has never blazed. Mind, I've warned you to be circumspect. The Irish nature is too open. It can't keep a secret without telling a lie, and lies lead to awful tangles. It's no affair of mine. Terence, come along.' The junior rose and stretched himself, and prepared to follow his chief. A betrayer in their midst! The case did seem hopeless to the young councillor; so hopeless as to be almost contemptible. Possibly Lord Clare was a trifle over-strict with them, but he certainly appeared justified to a certain extent in assuming with the children the manner of a severe pedagogue. What a pity that they persisted in fathering every enormity upon him! 'It's a bad job, my friends,' he said. 'Curran's right about the papers. Good-night.'