The same mail that bore to Mulcahy's mother
in New York a letter from the colonel telling her how valiantly
her son had fought for the Queen, and how assuredly he would have
been recommended for the Victoria Cross had he survived, carried a
communication signed, I grieve to say, by that same colonel and
all the officers of the regiment, explaining their willingness to
do "anything which is contrary to the regulations and all kinds of
revolutions" if only a little money could be forwarded to cover
incidental expenses. Daniel Grady, Esquire, would receive funds,
vice Mulcahy, who "was unwell at this present time of writing."
Both letters were forwarded from New York to Tehama Street, San
Francisco, with marginal comments as brief as they were bitter.
The Third Three read and looked at each other. Then the Second
Conspirator - he who believed in "joining hands with the practical
branches" - began to laugh, and on recovering his gravity said,
"Gentlemen, I consider this will be a lesson to us. We're left
again. Those cursed Irish have let us down. I knew they would,
but" - here he laughed afresh - "I'd give considerable to know
what was at the back of it all."
His curiosity would have been satisfied had he seen Dan Grady,
discredited regimental conspirator, trying to explain to his
thirsty comrades in India the non-arrival of funds from New York.
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