"What tune's that young Kerrigan's playing?" said Gallagher.

"I don't know," said Doyle. "I've more to do than to be listening to tunes. Mary Ellen, can you not see that there's three corks out of porter bottles underneath the table? Will you take them out of it now, like a good girl?"

"I'm not satisfied in my mind about that tune," said Gallagher.

"What harm is there in it?"

"I don't know yet is there any harm, but I don't like it, and I'd be glad if I knew what tune it is. I have it in my mind that it's a tune that ought not to be played."

"Mary Ellen," said Doyle, "what tune is it that young Kerrigan's playing?"

"How would I know?" said Mary Ellen.

"Well, put down that sweeping brush," said Doyle. "For all the good you're doing with it you might as well never have taken it up. I never seen such a girl. Put it down now and run across to Constable Moriarty, who's standing at the door of the barrack??"

"I'd be ashamed," said Mary Ellen, "so I would."

"If you're not ashamed of the state this room's in," said Doyle, "it would take more than Moriarty to shame you. Run along now, when you're bid, and ask him what tune it is that Kerrigan's playing."

Mary Ellen, who hoped that the interruption might put an end to the sweeping once for all, left the room.

"If there's one in the town that knows the tune," said Doyle, "it'll be Moriarty. I'd say myself that he must know pretty near every tune there is in the world."

"He might tell her," said Gallagher, "or he might not. I was talking to him this minute and he wouldn't tell me."

"He'll tell Mary Ellen," said Doyle. "He's always after that girl, and it's my belief he'll tell her anything that she'd ask him. There's some that's took that way. Foolishness I call it."

"It's the way he wouldn't tell me when I asked him," said Gallagher, "that and the grin on his face when he saw me that has me sure that there's some insult intended to the people of this town with that tune.

It's what I wouldn't stand, and the doctor and the rest of them may make their minds up to it. It's what I won't stand is to have tunes played here that is against the political convictions of the people."

"Who'd do the like?" said Doyle soothingly.

"What I say is this," said Gallagher, "if there's no reason to be ashamed of the tune, let them say out boldly what tune it is. I have it in the back of my mind that I've heard that tune before now, and it's not the kind of tune that decent men would be listening to."

"Have sense, can't you, Thady. There's n.o.body wanting to annoy you."

"There may not be," said Gallagher, "but there's more than one in this town that's the enemies of the Irish people and would be glad to see the cup of freedom dashed from the lips of the men that have spent their lives in the struggle for Home Rule and that has it now as good as got."

"Have sense," said Doyle, but he spoke without real energy or much purpose. He had little hope that Gallagher, once embarked on a peroration, would stop until he had used up all the words at his command. He was quite right in his reading of his friend's character.

Gallagher went on:

"It isn't the declared enemies of the people that we'd be afraid of,"

he said. "We'll meet them in the open field as we've always met them and they'll fly before the spectacle of a united people as they've always fled, the tyrants of other days, the blood-sucking landlords??"

"G.o.d help the poor Major," said Doyle.

"But the traitors within the camp," said Gallagher, "the men that is occupying positions in the gift of the people of Ireland, that's taking our pay, and at the same time plotting contrivances for the heaping of insults on the dearest convictions of our hearts??"

Mary Ellen entered the room while Gallagher was speaking. Bewildered by the splendour of his eloquence she stopped short just inside the door and gazed at him with her mouth open. Doyle took advantage of a slight hesitation in Gallagher's oration to speak to her.

"What tune is it, Mary Ellen?" he said.

"I couldn't rightly say," said Mary Ellen.

"Didn't I tell you," said Gallagher, "that there was underhand work going on?"

"What tune did Moriarty say it was?" said Doyle.

"He said it was a tune the doctor is after teaching young Kerrigan,"

said Mary Ellen.

"What did I tell you?" said Gallagher. "Maybe you'll believe me now."

"The best thing for you to do, Thady." said Doyle, "if you're dead set on finding out about that tune is to go and ask young Kerrigan what it is. The boy's a decent boy, and he'll tell you if you speak civil to him."

"I'll do that same," said Gallagher, "and if I discover??"

"You'd better be quick about it then," said Doyle, "for the committee is to meet at half after one and I wouldn't like you'd miss the proceedings."

"Come along with me," said Gallagher. "I wish you to hear the way I mean to talk to young Kerrigan."

Doyle did not want to listen to Gallagher browbeating young Kerrigan, but he realised that he would save time and a long argument if he went at once. He made a last appeal to Mary Ellen to collect at least the corks which were on the floor. Then he went out with Gallagher. In the porch of the hotel they met Major Kent who was a scrupulously punctual man, on his way to the committee meeting.

"You're a bit early, Major," said Doyle. "But if you'll step into the commercial room you won't have long to wait. Thady and I have to cross the street on a matter of business but we'll be back in less than five minutes. The doctor might be here any time and I see Father McCormack coming along from the presbytery."

Doyle was unduly optimistic. He was not back in five minutes. He did not, indeed, get back for nearly half an hour.

Kerrigan, very red in the face, and rather exhausted, was still blowing vigorously into his cornet when Gallagher and Doyle entered the back-yard. Gallagher went straight to business without wasting any time on preliminary politeness.

"Will you stop that blasted noise," he said.

Kerrigan took the cornet from his lips and gazed at Gallagher in extreme surprise.

"Speak civil to the boy," said Doyle.

"What tune is that?" said Gallagher.

"What Mr. Gallagher's meaning to say," said Doyle, "is that party tunes is unsuitable to this locality where the people has always lived in peace and harmony, Protestant and Catholic together, and respected one another. That's what Mr. Gallagher means, and if Constable Moriarty didn't annoy him it's what he'd say."

"It's a tune the doctor taught me," said young Kerrigan, "and it's a fine tune, so it is."

"What's the name of it?" said Gallagher.

"That," said young Kerrigan, "is what I was meaning to ask the doctor next time he happened to be pa.s.sing but if you're in a hurry to know, Mr. Gallagher, you can ask him yourself. It's likely you'll be seeing him before I do."

Young Kerrigan's words were perfectly civil; but there was a look in his eyes which Gallagher did not like and the tone in which he spoke suggested that he meant to be impudent.

"I'll take no back talk from you," said Gallagher. "What tune is it?"