The old gentleman looked relieved. He was evidently of a timid and
conciliatory nature, and would, with slight encouragement, have turned
upon that Church of which he was the humble representative, merely for
the sake of peace.

The butcher cleared his throat after the manner of the streets--causing
Morot to wince visibly--and acquiesced.

"But," he added cunningly, "the Church, see you--Ach! it is deep--it is
treacherous. Never trust the Church!"

The Citizen Morot, to whom these remarks were addressed, smiled in a
singular way and made no reply. Then he turned gravely to the old man
and said--

"Have you nothing to report to us--my father?"

"Nothing of great importance," replied he humbly. "All is going on well.
We are in treaty for two hundred rifles with the Montenegrin Government,
and shall no doubt carry the contract through. I go to England next week
in order to carry out the--the--what shall I say?--the loan of the
ammunition."

"Ha, ha!" laughed the butcher.

Morot smiled also, as he made an entry in the little note-book.

"Next week?" he said interrogatively.

"Yes--on Tuesday."