rward with
his usual careless audacity, and pushed himself through the little
group of courtiers who were fawning upon the powerful boss, laughing
uproariously at the smallest of his jokes. The young stranger's bold
gray eyes looked back fearlessly through their glasses at the deadly
black ones which turned sharply upon him.

"Well, young man, I can't call your face to mind."

"I'm new here, Mr. McGinty."

"You are not so new that you can't give a gentleman his proper title."

"He's Councillor McGinty, young man," said a voice from the group.

"I'm sorry, Councillor. I'm strange to the ways of the place. But I was
advised to see you."

"Well, you see me. This is all there is. What d'you think of me?"

"Well, it's early days. If your heart is as big as your body, and
your soul as fine as your face, then I'd ask for nothing better," said
McMurdo.

"By Gar! you've got an Irish tongue in your head anyhow," cried the
saloon-keeper, not quite certain whether to humour this audacious
visitor or to stand upon his dignity.

"So you are good enough to pass my appearance?"

"Sure," said McMurdo.

"And you were told to see me?"

"I was."

"And who told you?"

"Brother Scanlan of Lodge 341, Vermissa. I drink your health Councillor,
and to our better acquaintance." He raised a glass with which he had
been served to his lips and elevated his little finger as he drank it.

McGinty, who had been watching him narrowly, raised his thick black
eyebrows. "Oh, it's like that, is it?" said he. "I'll have to look a bit
closer into this, Mister--"

"McMurdo."

"A bit closer, Mr. McMurdo; for we don't take folk on trust in these
parts, nor believe all we're told neither. Come in here for a moment,
behind the bar."

There was a small room there, lined with barrels. McGinty carefully
closed the door, and then seated himself on one of them, biting
thoughtfully on his cigar and surveying his companion with those
disquieting eyes. For a couple of minutes he sat in complete silence.
McMurdo bore the inspection cheerfully, one hand in his coat pocket,
the other twisting his brown moustache. Suddenly McGinty stooped and
produced a wicked-looking revolver.

"See here, my joker," said he, "if I thought you were playing any game
on us, it would be short work for you."

"This is a strange welcome," McMurdo answered with some dignity, "for
the Bodymaster of a lodge of Freemen to give to a stranger brother."

"Ay, but it's just th