Logic like yours, my boy, would have you go on picking at the Gordian Knot till it became a jackasses' race between you and the rope which was to fall to pieces last .-- There 's my old girl at the stall, poor soul! See her!' Philip had signalled a cabman to stop.

He stood facing his cousin with a close-lipped smile that summarised his opinion and made it readable.
'I have no time for an introduction to her this morning,' he said.
'You won't drop in on Distell to hear the latest brewing?
And, by the by, Phil, tell us, could you give us a hint for packing five or six hundred rifles and a couple of pieces of cannon ?' Philip stared; he bent a lowering frown on his cousin, with a twitch at his mouth.
'Oh! easy!' Con answered the look; 'it's for another place and harder to get at.' He was eyed suspiciously and he vowed the military weapons were for another destination entirely, the opposite Pole.
'No, you wouldn't be in for a crazy villainy like that!' said Philip.
'No, nor wink to it,' said Con.

'But it's a question about packing cannon and small arms; and you might be useful in dropping a hint or two.

The matter's innocent.

It's not even a substitution of one form of Government for another: only a change of despots, I suspect.