He and the sergeant looked at Doyle and waited. Doyle still remained silent. The door of the office of the Connacht Eagle opened and Thaddeus Gallagher shambled along the street. He was a tall, grizzled man, exceedingly lean and ill-shaven. His clothes, which were shabby, hung round him in desponding folds. His appearance would have led a stranger to suppose that the Connacht Eagle was not a paying property. He greeted Sergeant Colgan and Moriarty with friendly warmth. When he had nothing else to write leading articles about he usually denounced the police, accusing them of various crimes, from the simple swearing away of the liberties of innocent men to the debauching of the morals of the young women of Ballymoy. But this civic zeal did not prevent his being on perfectly friendly terms with the members of the force. Nor did his strong writing rouse any feeling of resentment in the mind of the sergeant. He and Moriarty welcomed the editor warmly and invited him to inspect the car.

Thaddeus Gallagher looked at the car critically. He rubbed his hand along the dusty mud guard, opened and shut one of the doors, stroked the bulb of the horn cautiously, and then turned to Doyle.

"Is it the Lord-Lieutenant you have within in the hotel?" he asked.

He spoke with a fine suggestion of scorn in his voice. As a prominent local politician Thaddeus Gallagher was obliged to be contemptuous of Lords-Lieutenant. Doyle looked offended and at first made no reply.

Sergeant Colgan, acting as peacemaker, spoke in a noncommittal, but soothing tone.

"It might be," he said, "it very well might be."

"It is not then," said Doyle. "Nor it's not the Chief Secretary."

"If it's not," said Gallagher, "it's some other of them fellows out of Dublin Castle."

"It's a high up gentleman surely," said Sergeant Colgan.

"And one that has money to spare," added Constable Moriarty. "It could be that he's one of the bosses of the Congested Districts Board.

Them ones is well paid and has motors kept for them along with their salaries, so they tell me anyway."

Then Mary Ellen came out of the hotel. She stood at a little distance and smiled pleasantly at Constable Moriarty. Doyle turned on her.

"What is it that you want now, Mary Ellen?" he said. "Why aren't you within attending on the gentleman?"

"Sure I am," said Mary Ellen.

"You are not," said Doyle. "Don't I see you standing there grinning at Constable Moriarty?"

"He's after asking for his dinner," said Mary Ellen.

She referred of course to Mr. Billing. The suggestion that she was grinning at Moriarty was unworthy of her notice.

"And if he is," said Doyle, "why don't you give it to him?"

"What'll I give him?"

"Give him chops," said Doyle. "And if there's no chops in the house?and there may not be?run across to Kerrigan the butcher and ask him for a couple. It'll be quicker than killing a chicken; but that's what you'll have to do in the latter end if Kerrigan has no chops."

"It was only this morning," said Sergeant Colgan hopefully, "that Kerrigan killed a sheep."

Mary Ellen crossed the street towards Kerrigan's shop. Constable Moriarty winked at her as she pa.s.sed. Mary Ellen was a good girl. She took no notice of the wink. The sergeant, unfortunately, did.

"Come along out of this, Constable Moriarty," he said. "Have you no duties to perform that you can afford to be standing there all day making faces at Mary Ellen? Come along now if you don't want me to report you."

Sergeant Colgan, though Gallagher insinuated evil things about him, was a man with a strict sense of propriety. He must have wanted very much to hear something more about Doyle's guest, but he marched off up the street followed by Moriarty. Doyle and Gallagher watched them until they were out of sight. Then Gallagher spoke again.

"If he isn't the Lord-Lieutenant," he said, "and if he isn't the Chief Secretary, will you tell me who he is?"

"It's my opinion," said Doyle, "that he's a Yank."

"I don't know that I've much of an opinion of Yanks," said Gallagher.

"It's in my mind that the country would be better if there was fewer of them came back to us. What I say is this: What good are they? What do they do, only upset the minds of the people, teaching them to be disrespectful to the clergy and to use language the like of which decent people ought not to use?"

"It's my opinion that he is a Yank anyway," said Doyle.

Mary Ellen returned from Kerrigan's shop. She carried a small parcel, wrapped in newspaper. It contained two chops for Mr. Billing's dinner.

"Mary Ellen," said Doyle, "is it your opinion that the gentleman within is a Yank?"

"He might be," said Mary Ellen.

"Go you on in then," said Doyle, "and be cooking them chops for him. Why would you keep him waiting for his dinner and him maybe faint with the hunger?"

"And why would you say he was a Yank?" said Gallagher.

"Why would I say it? You'd say it yourself, Thady Gallagher if so be you'd heard the way he was talking. 'Is there a live man in the place at all?' says he, meaning Ballymoy. 'It's waking up you want.' says he."

"Did he? The devil take him," said Gallagher.

"'And I've a good mind to try and wake you up myself,' said he. 'I'm reckoned middling good at waking people up where I come from,' says he."

"Let him try," said Gallagher. "Let him try if it pleases him. We'll teach him."

Gallagher spoke with an impressive display of truculent self-confidence.

He had at the moment no doubt whatever that he could subdue Mr. Billing or any other insolent American. His opportunity came almost at once.

Mr. Billing appeared at the door of the hotel. He looked extraordinarily cool and competent. He also looked rather severe. His forehead was puckered to a frown. It seemed that he was slightly annoyed about something. Gallagher feared that his last remark might have been overheard. He shrank back a little, putting Doyle between him and Mr.

Billing.

"Say," said Mr. Billing, "is there any way of getting a move on that hired girl of yours? It'll be time for breakfast to-morrow morning before she brings my lunch if some one doesn't hustle her a bit."

"Mary Ellen," shouted Doyle. "Mary Ellen, will you hurry up now and cook the gentleman's dinner?" Then he sank his voice. "She's frying the chops this minute," he said. "If you was to stand at the kitchen door you'd hear them in the pan."

Thaddeus Gallagher, rea.s.sured and confident that Mr. Billing had not overheard his threat, stepped forward and stood bowing, his hat in his hands. Wealthy Americans may be objectionable, but they are rare in the west of Ireland. Gallagher felt that he would like to know Mr. Billing.

Doyle introduced him.

"This is Mr. Gallagher," he said. "Mr. Thaddeus Gallagher, J. P."

Mr. Billing bowed courteously and shook hands with Mr. Gallagher.

"Proud to meet you, sir," he said. "Proud to meet any prominent citizen of this section."

"Mr. Thady Gallagher," said Doyle, "is the proprietor of the Connacht Eagle, our princ.i.p.al newspaper."

The Connacht Eagle was, in fact, the only newspaper in Ballymoy. It was the only newspaper published within a radius of forty miles from Ballymoy.

It could therefore be quite truthfully called the princ.i.p.al one. Mr.

Billing shook Thady Gallagher's hand again.

"I'm a newspaper man myself," he said. "I control two-thirds of the press in the state where I belong."