houlders.

"Very good," Colonel John answered curtly. And, going to the door, he
called Bale from his station by the hatchway, and despatched him to the
Bishop and to Admiral Cammock, requesting them to do him the honour to
descend.

They came readily enough, in the hope of some favourable turn. But the
Colonel's words quickly set them right.

"Gentlemen," he said politely, "I know you to be men of honour in
private life. For this reason I have asked you to be present as
witnesses to the bargain between my cousin and myself. Blood is thicker
than water: he has no mind to go abroad, and I have no mind to send him
against his will. But his presence, after what has passed, is a
standing peril to myself. To meet this difficulty, and to free me from
the necessity of banishing him, he is ready to swear by all he holds
sacred, and upon his honour, that he will attempt nothing against me,
nor be a party to it. Is that so, sir?" the speaker continued. "Do you
willingly, in the presence of these gentlemen, give that undertaking?"

The young man, with averted eyes and a downcast face, nodded.

"I am afraid I must trouble you to speak," Colonel John said.

"I do," he muttered, looking at no one.

"Further, that you will not within six months attempt anything against
the Government?" Colonel John continued.

"I will not."

"Very good. I accept that undertaking, and I thank these gentlemen for
their courtesy in condescending to act as witnesses. Admiral Cammock
and you, reverend father," Colonel John continued, "it remains but to
bid you farewell, and to ask you to believe"--the Colonel paused--"that
I have not pushed further than was necessary the advantage I gained."

"By a neat stroke, Colonel Sullivan," the Bishop replied, with a rather
sour smile, "not to say a bold one. I'm not denying it. But one, I'd
have you notice, that cannot be repeated."

"Maybe not," the Colonel answered. "I am content to think that for some
time to come I have transferred your operations, gentlemen, to a sphere
where I am not concerned for the lives of the people."

"There are things more precious than lives," the Bishop said.

"I admit it. More by token I'm blaming you little--only you see, sir, I
differ. That is all."

With that Colonel Sullivan bowed and left the cabin, and The
McMurrough, who had listened to the colloquy with the air of a whipped
hound, slunk after him. On deck the Colonel and Augustin talked apart
for a moment, th