At that moment the door of the room opened, and a face looked in for an
instant-the face of old Swinton, the landlord of the Harp and Crown.
Suddenly Boyne's look changed. He burst into a laugh, and brought his
fists down on the table between them with a bang.

"By Joseph and by Mary, but you're a patriot, Calhoun! I was trying to
test you. I was searching to find the innermost soul of you. The French
fleet, my commission in the French army, and my story about the landlord
are all bosh. If I meant what I told you, do you think I'd have been so
mad as to tell you so much, damn it? Have you no sense, man? I wanted
to find out exactly how you stood-faithful or unfaithful to the crown--
and I've found out. Sit down, sit down, Calhoun, dear lad. Take your
hand off your sword. Remember, these are terrible days. Everything I
said about Ireland is true. What I said about France is false. Sit
down, man, and if you're going to join the king's army--as I hope and
trust you will--then here's something to help you face the time between."
He threw on the table a packet of notes. "They're good and healthy, and
will buy you what you need. There's not much. There's only a hundred
pounds, but I give it to you with all my heart, and you can pay it back
when the king's money comes to you, or when you marry a rich woman."

He said it all with a smile on his face. It was done so cleverly, with
so much simulated sincerity, that Dyck, in his state of semi-drunkenness,
could not, at the instant, place him in his true light. Besides, there
was something handsome and virile in Boyne's face--and untrue; but the
untruth Dyck did not at the moment see.

Never in his life had Boyne performed such prodigies of dissimulation.
He was suddenly like a schoolboy disclosing the deeds of some adventurous
knight. He realized to the full the dangers he had run in disclosing the