“As for old Killowen, who filled the chair, that was enough to damn the whole thing. One of King James's lords, forsooth!--why, man, what country gentleman of any pretension could give precedence to a fellow like that, who neither reads, writes, nor speaks the King's English--and your great gun, Mr. Hickman O'Reilly--” “False-hearted scoundrel!” muttered Heffernan, half aloud. “Faith he may be, but he's the cleverest of the pack. I liked his speech well. There was good common sense in his asking for some explicit plan of proceeding,--what you meant to do, and how to do it. Eh, Con, that was to the point.” “To the point!” repeated Heffernan, scornfully; “yes, as the declaration of an informer, that he will betray his colleagues, is to the point.” “And then his motion to admit the reporters,” said St. George, as with a malignant pleasure he continued to suggest matter of annoyance. “He 's mistaken, however,” said Heffernan, with a sarcastic bitterness that came from his heart. “The day for rewards is gone by. He 'll never get the baronetcy by supporting the Government in this way. It is the precarious, uncertain ally they look more after. There is consummate wisdom, Giles, in not saying one's last word. O'Reilly does not seem aware of that. Here come Godfrey and Hume,” said he, as he looked out of the window. “Burton has sent an apology.” “And who is our sixth?” “O'Reilly--and here's his carriage. See how the people stare admiringly at his green liveries; they scarcely guess that the owner is meditating a change of color. Well, Godfrey, in time for once. Why, Robert, you seem quite fagged with your day's exertion. Ah! Mr. O'Reilly, delighted to find you punctual. Let me present you to my old friend Sir Giles St. George. I believe, gentlemen, you need no introduction to each other. Burton has disappointed us; so we may order dinner at once.”