'Ah! Mr. Curran. Taking the air? You're looking well, Terence,' he cried in his rasping voice, holding out a hand to each. 'Anything doing in the Commons? Not much to do, eh? Dull times. Sad--sad times, my friends! Dangerous, too; very dangerous.' 'You are right there, my lord,' returned the lawyer, curtly. 'Tyrants should remember that secret murder is the special weapon of the weak against the strong.' The chancellor bit his lip, then showed his teeth again. He would not lose his temper. But it was singularly ill-mannered of this demagogue to try and make a scene in the public colonnade! 'I have warned you solemnly before, my lord, of what you are doing!' went on the sturdy little man. 'You play with awkward weapons. Take care they don't slip and cut you. The Staghouse overflows with guests, I know. Yet more than one has lately disappeared.' 'Consigned to Moiley?' laughed Lord Clare. 'Well, they weigh, I suppose, like wise men, the risks of their position against its advantages. We are quits. For I have warned you too. You'll get nothing by your present attitude, I do assure you. It is lamentable to see a clever man so waste his opportunity. I am sure if Terence's mother was here she would say the same. You believe in her, I think, though you've always done me the injury to mistrust me.' Here he gave a friendly nod to Terence, who took no heed of it. 'Would you have me tie my countrymen in bundles?' inquired Curran, 'to raise myself to wealth and to remorse? The envy of fools--the contempt of the wise. No! Come what may, I will mourn over and console them; aye, and rebuke them too when they act against themselves.' 'Which is pretty frequently the case!' returned Lord Clare. 'I assure you I weep quite as much as you can over my country's misfortunes!' Mr. Curran waxed peppery, for he hated humbug. 'And yet, my lord,' he sneered, 'your glittering optic is so dry that the finest gunpowder might be dried on it!' This was uphill work; but the chancellor still smiled, though a hectic spot showed upon his cheekbone; for the squireens around were beginning to hee-haw, and he felt he was playing _le rôle ridicule_. 'It is a sad thing, when the interests of millions are placed at the mercy of one man's selfish ambition--or error, if you prefer it--for what is individual ambition but error?' 'Selfish ambition!' echoed Lord Clare, grandly. 'I have the honour to be a chosen servant of the King, and as such I humbly strive to do my duty--nothing more.' 'You owe no allegiance to the land that gave you birth? I tell you, my lord, here before these gentlemen, that as chancellor you are betraying those rights which you have sworn to maintain; that you are involving Government in disgrace--a kingdom in consternation; that you are sacrificing to your own avarice and vanity every sacred duty, every solemn engagement which binds you to yourself, your country, and your God!' 'Mr. Curran!' cried the chancellor, drawing back.