"It's a reckless gamble in anarchy with the country's destiny at stake," he said. "And financed by German Jews," added Joe Burt. As the Campaign developed and the success of the Unionists in tampering with the Army became always more apparent, the criticisms of the two men intensified. They hung like wolves upon the flank of the Colonel, pertinacious in pursuit, remorseless in attack. "You can't get away from the fact that the whole Campaign is built on the power of the Unionists to corrupt the officers of the Army," said the minister. "Without that the whole thing collapses." "And so far," chimed in Joe, "A must say it looks as if they were building on a sure foundation." The Colonel, outwardly gay, was inwardly miserable that his beloved Service should be dragged in the mud. "What can you say to them?" he groaned to Mr. Trupp. "Why," said the old surgeon brusquely, "tell em to tell their own rotten Government to govern or get out. Let em hang half a dozen politicians for treason, and shoot the same number of soldiers for sedition--and the thing's done." And the bitterness of it was that it looked increasingly as if the critics were right. The Colonel came home one night from a rare visit to London in black despair. "The British officer never grows up," he complained to his wife. "He's a perfect baby." His long legs writhed themselves into knots, as he sucked at his pipe. "Do you remember that charming little feller Cherry Dugdale, who commanded the Borderers at Umballa?" "The shikari?--rather." "He's joined the Ulster Volunteers as a private." Mrs. Lewknor chuckled. She was a Covenanter sans phrase, fierce almost as the Archdeacon and delighting in the embarrassments of the Government. "Just like him," she said. "Little duck!" Then came the crash. The Commander-in-Chief in Ireland sent for General Gough, commanding the 3rd Cavalry Brigade at the Curragh, and asked him what his action would be in the event of the Government giving him and his Brigade the alternative of serving against Ulster or resigning. Gough forthwith called a conference of his officers, and seventy out of seventy-five signified their intention to resign. "We would rather not shoot Irishmen," they said. On the evening after the news came through the Colonel was walking down Terminus Road when he heard a provocative voice behind him. "What about it, Colonel?" He turned to find Joe Burt at his heels. "What about what?" asked the Colonel. "This mutiny of the officers at the Curragh." The Colonel affected a gaiety he by no means felt. "Well, what's your view?" Joe was enthusiastic. "Why, it's the finest example of Direct Action ever seen in this coontry. And it's been given by the Army officers!--That's what gets me." "What's Direct Action?" asked the Colonel. The phrase in those days was unknown outside industrial circles.