To which Walter replied:

"She is sailing slowly, but she will come."

"That's right," the merchant said, rising. "Where do you come from?"

"I am Walter Davenant, a cornet in my father's troop of horse, and I have
come direct from Limerick. I have a letter for you, in my collar."

He pulled off his coat, the merchant handed him a knife, he ripped open
the collar, and, taking out the papers concealed there, picked out that
intended for Mr. O'Brian, which was not directed, but had only a slight
mark upon it to distinguish it from the others. The merchant read it in
silence.

"I am disappointed, Mr. Davenant," he said, as he finished it. "I had
hoped that a dash would be made at Dublin this winter; but the general
says that it has been decided to fight one more campaign on the
defensive, and that in the autumn, when the French arrive, there will be
a general advance. Now, I am ready to answer any question you are
instructed to ask."

"In the first place, sir, how many men do you think would be ready to
join in any rising in Dublin?"

"It would all depend upon whether an Irish army was advancing in this
direction. In that case, some seven or eight thousand men would rise. But
unless, there were a hope of early assistance, I do not think that above
a thousand could be relied on. I have about that number on my list. They,
as you see, could do nothing unassisted. There are three or four thousand