the
stoniest-hearted elder brother over that.'

If he could have thought of a crime at the moment, Hyacinth would
probably have confessed it; but he was bewildered, and could hit on
nothing better than:

'I have no elder brother--in fact, no relation of any sort.'

'Lucky man! Now, I have a perfect specimen of a brother--James Quinn,
Esquire, of Ballymoy. He's a churchwarden. Think of that! If it should
be your melancholy duty to send the message home to him--in case that
bullet hits me, I mean--tell him------ Oh, there's no false pride about
me. Fill your glass again. I don't in the least mind your knowing that I
wouldn't go a step to fight for Boer or Briton either if it wasn't for a
little affair connected with some horses and a cheque. You see, the War
Office people sent down a perfect idiot to buy remounts for the cavalry
in Galway and Mayo. He was the sort of idiot that would tempt an
Archbishop to swindle him. I rather overdid it, I'm afraid, and now the
matter is likely to come out.'

For all his boasted powers of observation, Captain Quinn failed to
notice the disgust and alarm on Hyacinth's face.

'I stuck the fool,' he went on, 'with every old screw in the country. I
got broken-winded mares from the ploughs. I collected a regular hospital
of spavined, knock-kneed beasts, and he took them from me without a word
at thirty pounds apiece. It would have been all right if I had gone no
further. But, hang it all! I got to the end of my tether. I declare to
you I don't believe there was another screw left in the whole county of
Mayo, and unless I took to selling him the asses I couldn't go on. Then
I heard of this plan of your friend Finola's, and I determined to make
a little coup and clear. I altered a cheque. The idiot was on his way to
an out-of-the-way corner of Connemara looking for mounted infantry cobs.
I knew he wouldn't see his bank-book for at least a week, so I chanced
it. That's the reason why I am so uncommonly anxious to get clear at
once. If I once get off, it will be next door to impossible to get me
back again. General Joubert will hardly give me up. I'm not the least
afraid of those ridiculous policemen who walk about after Finola. But
I am very much afraid of being tapped on the shoulder for reasons
quite non-political. I can tell you I've been on the jump ever since
yesterday, when I cashed the cheque, and I shan't feel easy till I've
left France behind me. I fancy I'm safe for the present.