Ambassador Pierce grunted slightly as he pulled his fob watch from the pocket in his well-rounded waistcoat. “More than enough time, I do believe. The carriages are not due to arrive here until noon.”

“I hope that with a bit of luck you are bringing me some good news, Gus,” the President said hopefully. “There never seems to be much of that.”

“Well, I am forced to admit that it is somewhat of a mixed bag, sir. Firstly, just two nights ago the British raided the harbor at the port of Kingstown in Ireland. This is the ferry port that is quite close to Dublin. They landed troops, and the attackers burned the city hall, as well as some of the harbor installations, then finished it all off by seizing and setting fire to some ships that were tied up there. The Irish believe that it was a terror raid, pure and simple, since it accomplished nothing but wanton destruction. It apparently was a clear reminder to the Irish that the British are still out there. As they left they exchanged shots with an Irish revenue cutter, but retreated back to sea before the troops from Dublin could arrive.”

Lincoln shook his head with great unhappiness. “I feel that the timing of this action is deliberate, that there is no coincidence here since this intrusion occurred just as our delegation was arriving in Belgium.”

“I concur, Mr. President. It is obviously a simple message to us,” Sherman said, his face cold, his pale eyes deadly. “They are telling us that they can strike at Ireland, whenever and wherever they please. And they will let no international conference stand in their way. It appears that their losses and defeats in America and Ireland have taught them nothing.”

“I am afraid that yours is the most valid interpretation,” Lincoln said with a great weariness. “But you said it was a mixed bag, Gus. Is there no good news in there? Can you pull nothing from your bundle that will bring cheer to a weary old man?”