"I'm surprised to hear you saying a thing like that. As a Nationalist you ought to be the last to admit that an English judge is in any way superior to an Irish one. He may be better paid--I daresay he is better paid, for we never get our fair share of what's going--but in the things that really matter--in legal acumen, for instance, which is the great thing we look for in judges--I don't expect the Irishman is a bit behind. However, English or Irish, the mere fact of his being a judge doesn't prove that he's a man of what I call real eminence. I don't think the Major will let you have his best car cushions for some sleepy old gentleman who sits on a bench and makes silly jokes. There are lots of judges knocking about that rat-eaten car cushions would be too good for. What's your man's name?" "Hawkesby," said Doyle. "Sir Gilbert Hawkesby, no less." Meldon started from his chair. "Are you sure of that?" he asked, "absolutely dead certain? This is a business over which it won't do to make mistakes." "It's what was in his letter, any way," said Doyle, "when he wrote engaging rooms in the hotel." "When does he arrive?" "To-morrow," said Doyle; "to-morrow afternoon, and I told Sabina to kill a chicken to-day, for it's likely he'll be wanting a bit of dinner after the drive over from Donard. I thought if he had a chicken and a bit of boiled bacon, with a custard pudding after that--" "Go into the coach-house at once," said Meldon, "and take any cushions you want. I can't talk any more to you this morning. I'm going to be frightfully busy." Doyle, grinning broadly, led his horse round to the yard. He did not believe that Meldon was ever busy. Like most people he failed to appreciate the real greatness of the clergyman. Meldon hurried into the house and flung open the door of the study. Major Kent looked up from his papers with a weary smile. "Couldn't you and Doyle settle that business of the car cushions between you? I shall never get these accounts done if I'm interrupted every minute." "We could have settled it," said Meldon. "In fact we have settled it, but a question of vastly greater importance has arisen. We are threatened with something like an actual catastrophe." "If it's the kind of catastrophe which involves an hour or so of solid talk, J. J., don't you think you could manage to put it off for a little? I shall be quite ready to go into it at any length you like this evening after dinner." "Major," said Meldon, "if an earthquake came--the kind of earthquake which knocks down houses--and if thunderbolts were falling red-hot out of the sky, and if a large tidal wave was rushing up across the lawn, and if a moving bog was desolating your kitchen garden and engulfing your polo ponies, would you or would you not sit calmly there and go on with your accounts?" "If all those things were happening I'd move, of course." "There's no 'of course' about it. Some men wouldn't."