"You don't mean to say," said Clithering, "that you really wanted us--to--to shoot in earnest?"
"We did. In fact one of the alternatives which I am empowered to offer you--"
"Offer us! But we--we are--I mean to say that the terms of settlement must, of course, be dictated by us."
"Not at all," I said. "Godfrey, you can't write shorthand, I know; but you must try and take down what I'm going to say now as accurately as possible. I'll speak quite slowly. The Government--I mean, of course, so far as Ulster is concerned, the late Government--your Government--must either conduct the war in a proper business-like way--have you got that down, Godfrey?"
"Do you mean," said Clithering, "that you want us--?"
"I mean," I said, "that we have put our money into it. Conroy, in particular, has spent huge sums on cannons. We are determined to have a show of some sort. Your Government must therefore either agree to fight properly and not keep running away every time we get a shot in, or--"
"I'm waiting," I said, "till Godfrey gets that written down. Have you finished, Godfrey? Very well. Or--now take this down carefully--you English clear out of Ireland altogether, every man of you, except--"
"And leave us to manage Ireland ourselves. Got that, Godfrey?"
"But," said Clithering; "but--I thought you didn't want Home Rule."
"We don't. We won't have it at any price."
"But that is Home Rule of the most extreme kind."
"There's no use splitting hairs," I said, "or discussing finicking points of political nomenclature. The point for you to grasp is that those are our terms."
"Will you excuse me?" said Clithering. "This is all rather surprising. May I call up the Prime Minister on the telephone?"
"Certainly," I said. "I'm in no hurry. But be sure you put it to him distinctly. I don't want to have any misunderstanding."
There was no telephone in the library of Moyne House. Clithering had to ring for a servant who led him off to another room. Godfrey seized the opportunity of his absence to confide in me.
"Poor old Clithering is a bit of a bounder," he said. "Makes stockings, you know, Excellency. And Lady Clithering is a fat vulgarian. It's all she can do to pick up her aitches. I shouldn't think of stopping in their house if--"