attends in regalia."

Ingolby started and looked at the paper again. "The sneaking, praying
liar," he said, his jaw setting grimly. "This thing's a call to riot.
There's an element in Lebanon as well that'd rather fight than eat. It's
the kind of lie that--"

"That you can't overtake," said the Boss Doctor appositely; "and I don't
know that even you can tell another that'll neutralize it. Your
prescription won't work here."

An acknowledging smile played at Ingolby's mouth. "We've got to have a
try. We've got to draw off the bull with a red rag somehow."

"I don't see how myself. That Orange funeral will bring a row on to us.
I can just see the toughs at Manitou when they read this stuff, and know
about that funeral."

"It's announced?"

"Yes, here's an invitation in the Budget to Orangemen to attend the
funeral of a brother sometime of the banks of the Boyne!"

"Who's the Master of the Lodge?" asked Ingolby. Rockwell told him,
urging at the same time that he see the Chief Constable as well, and
Monseigneur Lourde at Manitou.

"That's exactly what I mean to do--with a number of other things.
Between ourselves, Rockwell, I'd have plenty of lint and bandages ready
for emergencies if I were you."