They were making
a noise on the Plaza. Now and then a military let off his gun, and
the people shouted as if they wanted him to do it again. The Japanese
bowed to Bill across the table, and smiled mystical.
"By the tomb of my mother, you shall pay!" gurgled Bill.
"Come off!" says Flannagan kindly. "She hadn't any tomb, an' ye
disremember who she was."
"Why," says Madame Bill, "the Senor Flannagan on that point
speaks nearly the truth."
"A-r-r-r! I'll have your blood!" says the Minister.
"An' me givin' ye the soft word," says Flannagan, "an' apologies for
takin' ye for a decorated rubber ball, an' bouncin' ye on the floor!
'Twas wrong of me. Sure, now, Misther Bill, an' is there more needed
between gentlemen?" He looked for help to Madame Bill, who gazed at
the smoke of her cheroot and seemed absent-minded.
"Listen, my Georgio," she began at last, "I have considered, and I
say you have done foolishly to scatter the soldiers about the city to
hurry and to inquire, so that the people become excited. Hear in the
Plaza already how they cry out like children, and each one is angry
at a different thing."
The Minister started, and listened, and wiped his wet forehead with
his sleeve.
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