so frank and fearless.

He did not, however, mislead Dyck greatly. Dyck had been drinking a good
deal, but this knowledge of a French invasion, and a sense of what Boyne
was trying to do, steadied his shaken emotions; held him firmly in the
grip of practical common sense. He laughed, hiccuped a little, as though
he was very drunk, and said:

"Of course the French would like to come to Ireland; they'd like to seize
it and hold it. Why, of course they would! Don't we know all that's
been and gone? Aren't Irishmen in France grown rich in industry there
after having lost every penny of their property here? Aren't there
Irishmen there, always conniving to put England at defiance here by
breaking her laws, cheating her officers, seducing her patriots? Of
course; but what astounds me is that a man of your standing should
believe the French are coming here now to Ireland. No, no, Boyne; I'm
not taking your word for any of these things. You're a gossip; you're a
damned, pertinacious, preposterous gossip, and I'll say it as often as
you like."

"So it's proof you want, is it? Well, then, here it is."

Boyne drew from his pocket a small leather-bound case and took from it a
letter, which he laid on the table in front of Dyck.

Dyck looked at the document, then said:

"Ah, that's what you are, eh?--a captain in the French artillery! Well,
that'd be a surprise in Ireland if it were told."