rite to me what
takes place with Walpole, and put your faith firmly in the good-will and
efficiency of yours truly,

'"JOE ATLEE.

'"If you think of taking Donogan down with you to Kilgobbin, I ought to
tell you that it would be a mistake. Women invariably dislike him, and he
would do you no credit.'"

Dick Kearney, who had begun to read this letter aloud, saw himself
constrained to continue, and went on boldly, without stop or hesitation, to
the last word.

'I am very grateful to you, Mr. Kearney, for this mark of trustfulness, and
I'm not in the least sore about all Joe has said of me.'

'He is not over complimentary to myself,' said Kearney, and the irritation
he felt was not to be concealed.

'There's one passage in his letter,' said the other thoughtfully, 'well
worth all the stress he lays on it. He tells you never to forget it "takes
all sorts of men to make a party." Nothing can more painfully prove the
fact than that we need Joe Atlee amongst ourselves! And it is true, Mr.
Kearney,' said he sternly, 'treason must now, to have any chance at all, be
many-handed. We want not only all sorts of men, but in all sorts of places;
and at tables where rebel opinions dared not be boldly announced and
defended, we want people who can coquet with felony, and get men to talk
over treason with little if any ceremony. Joe can do this--he can write,
and, what is better, sing you a Fenian ballad, and if he sees he has made a
mistake, he can quiz himself and his song as cavalierly as he has sung it!
And now, on my solemn oath I say it, I don't know that anything worse has
befallen us than the fact that there are such men as Joe Atlee amongst us,
and that we need them--ay, sir, we need them!'

'This is brief enough, at any rate,' said Kearney, as he broke open the
second letter:--

'"DUBLIN CASTLE, _Wednesday Evening_.

'"DEAR SIR,--Would you do me the great favour to call on me here at your
earliest convenient moment? I am still an invalid, and confined to a sofa,
or would ask for permission to meet you at your chambers.--Believe me,
yours faithfully,

CECIL WALPOLE."'

'That cannot be delayed, I suppose?' said Kearney, in the tone of a
question.

'Certainly not.'

'I'll go up by the night-mail. You'll remain where you are, and where I
hope you feel you are with a welcome.'

'I feel it, sir--I feel it more than I can say.' And his face was blood-red
as he spoke.

'There are scores of things you can do while I