draws the pain out of your hurt like a mustard plaster. A man of better
sense and greater roguery I've never met. You must see him, Captain Ivy.
He's only about twelve years older than my son, but, like my son, there's
no holding him, there's no control of him that's any good. He does what
he wants to do in his own way--talks when he wants to talk, fights when
he wants to fight. He's a man of men, is Michael Clones."

At that moment the door opened and the butler entered, followed by a
tall, thin, Don Quixote sort of figure.

"His excellency," said Mulvaney, with a look slightly malevolent, for the
visitor had refused his name. Then he turned and left the room.

At Mulvaney's words, an ironical smile crossed the face of the newcomer.
Then he advanced to Miles Calhoun. Before speaking, however, he glanced
sharply at Captain Ivy, threw an inquisitive look at Dyck, and said:

"I seem to have hurt the feelings of your butler, sir, but that cannot be
helped. I have come from the Attorney-General. My name is Leonard
Mallow--I'm the eldest son of Lord Mallow. I've been doing business in
Limerick, and I bring a message from the Attorney-General to ask you to
attend his office at the earliest moment."

Dyck Calhoun, noting his glance at a bottle of port, poured out a glass
of the good wine and handed it over, saying:

"It'll taste better to you because you've been travelling hard, but it's
good wine anyhow. It's been in the cellar for forty years, and that's
something in a land like this."