hat.' And he pushed towards him a _Times_,
with a mark on the margin: 'To ask the Secretary for Ireland whether the
statement made by certain newspapers in the North of a correspondence
between the Castle authorities and the Fenian leader was true, and whether
such correspondence could be laid on the table of the House?'

'Read it out,' cried the Viceroy, as Walpole conned over the paragraph
somewhat slowly to himself.

'I think, my lord, when you have heard a few words of explanation from me,
you will see that this charge has not the gravity these newspaper-people
would like to attach to it.'

'Can't be explained--nothing could justify--infernal blunder--and must go.'

'Pray, my lord, vouchsafe me even five minutes.'

'See it all--balderdash--explain nothing--Cardinal more offended than the
rest--and here, read.' And he pushed a letter towards him, dated Downing
Street, and marked private. 'The idiot you left behind you has been
betrayed into writing to the rebels and making conditions with them. To
disown him now is not enough.'

'Really, my lord, I don't see why I should submit to the indignity of
reading more of this.'

His Excellency crushed the letter in his hand, and puffed very vigorously
at his pipe, which was nearly extinguished. 'Must go,' said he at last, as
a fresh volume of smoke rolled forth.

'That I can believe--that I can understand, my lord. When you tell me you
cease to endorse my pledges, I feel I am a bankrupt in your esteem.'

'Others smashed in the same insolvency--inconceivable blunder--where was
Cartwright?--what was Holmes about? No one in Dublin to keep you out of
this cursed folly?'

'Until your lordship's patience will permit me to say a few words, I cannot
hope to justify my conduct.'

'No justifying--no explaining--no! regular smash and complete disgrace.
Must go.'

'I am quite ready to go. Your Excellency has no need to recall me to the
necessity.'

'Knew it all--and against my will, too--said so from the first--thing I
never liked--nor see my way in. Must go--must go.'

'I presume, my lord, I may leave you now. I want a bath and a cup of
coffee.'

'Answer that!' was the gruff reply, as he tossed across the table a few
lines signed, 'Bertie Spencer, Private Secretary.'

'"I am directed to request that Mr. Walpole will enable the Right
Honourable Mr. Annihough to give the flattest denial to the inclosed."'

'That must be done at once,' said the Viceroy, as the other c