and I, who had always dreamed romance, had now been brought into
actual contact with it. The idea of communicating my suspicions
to anyone never crossed my mind. I felt instinctively that this
was a case where silence was golden. Fortunately, none of my
school-fellows had seen Mr. Aulif or heard of his visit; and the
old caretaker of the drill-shed had been too much gratified by talk
and tip to entertain an unworthy thought of "that pleasant-spoken
gentleman."

Soon the story of these raids had been forgotten in the far more
exhilarating occurrences at Manchester and Clerkenwell which closed
the year; and the execution of Michael Barrett on the 26th of May,
1868 (the last public execution, by the way), brought the history
of Fenianism in England to an end.

As I looked back on my journey from Scotland, and my walk round
Harrow with Mr. Aulif, I thought that the reason why he did not
arrange for our School-armoury to be attacked was that he would
not abuse the confidence of a boy who had trusted him. Perhaps it
really was that the rifles were too few and the risks too many.

* * * * *

The year 1870 found me still a Harrow boy, though a tall one; and
I spent the Easter holidays with my cousins, the Brentfords, in
Paris. They were a remarkable couple, and if I were to mention
their real name, they would be immediately recognized. They had
social position and abundant means and hosts of friends; but, acting
under irresistible impulse, they had severed themselves from their
natural surroundings, and had plunged into democratic politics.