"I could do with a sup of porter after all that talk," said Gallagher, as he left the room.

"Doctor," said Doyle, "if things turn out the way we hope??".

"I suppose you're knocking a commission out of that nephew of yours for selling his statue for him?"

"Twenty-five per pent, is the amount agreed on. It isn't everyone I'd tell, but I've confidence in you, doctor."

"And if we get 500 for the pier?"

"A middling good pier," said Doyle, "as good a pier as anyone'd have a right to expect in a place like this, might be built for 300."

"That'll put 120 into your pocket, Doyle, not counting anything you may make on the luncheons!"

"What I was meaning to say, doctor, is, that it would be a satisfaction to me if there was something coming to yourself. You deserve it."

"Thank you, Doyle; but I'm not in this business to make money."

"It would be well," said Doyle with a sigh, "if you'd make a little more now and again."

"If you're going to start about that wretched bill I owe you??"

"I am not then. Nor I won't mention it to you until such time as you might be able to pay it. If so be that things turn out the way you say I shouldn't care??"

"If you keep Gallagher waiting too long for his drink," said Dr.

O'Grady, "he'll start breaking things. He must be uncommonly thirsty after all the speeches he made this afternoon."

"That's true," said Doyle. "I'd maybe better go to him."

Constable Moriarty stood just outside the door of the hotel. He saluted Major Kent as he pa.s.sed. He touched his hat respectfully to Father McCormack. He saw Gallagher come downstairs and enter the bar. A few minutes later he saw Dr. O'Grady. All traces of his usual smile vanished from his face. He drew himself up stiffly, and his eyes expressed something more than official severity. When Dr. O'Grady pa.s.sed through the door into the street, Moriarty confronted him.

"I'm glad to see," said Dr. O'Grady, "that you've stopped grinning. It's quite time you did."

"It's not grins I'm talking about now," said Moriarty. "It's Mary Ellen."

"Nice little girl, isn't she?"

"It's a nice little girl you'll make of her before you've done! What's this I'm after hearing about the way you have in mind for dressing her up?"

"Do be reasonable, Moriarty! What's the good of asking me what you've heard? I can't possibly know, for I wasn't there when you heard it."

"You know well what I heard."

"Look here, Moriarty," said Dr. O'Grady. "If you think I'm going to stand here to be bullied by you in the public street you're greatly mistaken. Why don't you go and patrol somewhere?"

"I'll not have Mary Ellen play-acting before the Lord-Lieutenant, so now you know, doctor."

"There's no play-acting to be done," said Dr. O'Grady. "We haven't even had time to get up a pageant. I wish we had. You'd look splendid as a Roman Emperor trampling on a conquered people. I'm not sure that I wouldn't get you up as an a.s.syrian bull. The expression of your face is just right this minute."

"Mary Ellen's an orphan girl," said Moriarty, "with no father to look after her, and what's more I'm thinking of marrying her myself. So it's as well for you to understand, doctor, that I'll not have her character took from her. It's not the first time you've tried that same, but it had better be the last."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Moriarty. There's n.o.body injuring the girl's character except, maybe, yourself. Doyle tells me you're never out of the back-yard of the hotel."

"You put it out that she was married to young Kerrigan."

"That was Thady Gallagher," said Dr. O'Grady, "and it didn't do her a bit of harm. n.o.body except Mr. Billing believed it."

"I don't mind that so much now," said Moriarty, "though I don't deny I was angry at the time, but what I won't have is Mary Ellen dressed up to be an ancient Irish colleen. It's not respectful to the girl."

"You told me the other day that you want the Lord-Lieutenant to make you a sergeant. Did you mean that when you said it, or did you not?"

"It's no way to make a sergeant of me to be dressing up Mary Ellen."

"It's far the best way. When the Lord-Lieutenant sees her and hears??"

"It's not going to be done, anyway," said Moriarty, "for I won't have it."

"Listen to me now," said Dr. O'Grady, "and you may take it that this is my last word, for I haven't time to waste talking to you. If I catch you interfering with Mary Ellen in any way or setting the girl's mind up against the costume that Mrs. Gregg has designed for her, I'll speak to Mr. Gregg, and have you transferred to some different county altogether, where you'll never see Mary Ellen either in fancy dress or any other way. What's more I'll represent your conduct to the Lord-Lieutenant, so that you'll never be made a sergeant as long as you live."

These threats affected Moriarty. He had no doubt in his mind that Dr.

O'Grady could and would carry out the first of them. About the second he was not quite so sure, but it remained a horrible possibility.

He saw that there was nothing to be done by opposing his will to a powerful combination of private influence and official power. Without speaking another word he turned and walked across the street to the barrack. But his anger had by no means died away. He found Sergeant Colgan asleep in the living-room. He woke him at once.

"I'll be even with that doctor," he said, "before I've done with him."

"That's threatening language," said the sergeant, who was not pleased at being wakened, "and it's actionable; so you'd better mind yourself, Moriarty. There's many a better man than you has gone to jail for less than that. I knew a Member of Parliament one time that got three weeks for no more than saying that he'd like to see the people beating the life out of a land grabber. What has the doctor been doing to you?"

"It's about Mary Ellen."

"Get out," said the sergeant, "you and your Mary Ellen! It's too fond you are of running here and there after that same Mary Ellen."

It was plain that no sympathy was to be expected from Sergeant Colgan.

Moriarty sat down on a chair in the corner and meditated on plans of vengeance. The sergeant dropped off to sleep again.

CHAPTER XVII

According to the official programme?so described by Dr. O'Grady?the Lord-Lieutenant and Lady Chesterton were to arrive in Ballymoy by motor-car at half-past twelve o'clock. There might be two motor-cars.

That depended on the number of aides-de-camp and of the suite which the Lord-Lieutenant brought. There would certainly be one, and Doyle had the coach-house in his back-yard emptied and carefully cleaned to serve for the garage. Everything in the town was ready before half-past ten.

The statue had been erected on its pedestal the day before and excited general admiration. Even Major Kent admitted that it was a striking work of art which would be an ornament to the town. The deceased Deputy-Lieutenant was dressed in flowing robes which resembled those worn by judges. He held a large roll, intended to represent parchment, in his left hand. This, Dr. O'Grady said, might very well be taken for the original draft of the Bolivian Const.i.tution. His right hand pointed upwards with extended forefinger. In the case of the Deputy-Lieutenant, who was almost certainly a strong Unionist, this may have symbolised an appeal to the higher powers?the House of Lords, or even the King?to refuse consent to a Home Rule Bill. When the statue ceased to be a Deputy-Lieutenant and became General John Regan the att.i.tude was taken to express his confidence in the heavenly nature of the national liberty which he had won for Bolivia. This was the explanation of the uplifted forefinger which Dr. O'Grady offered to Thady Gallagher. But Gallagher was curiously sulky and suspicious. He seemed unimpressed.

Doyle's nephew came down to Ballymoy and personally superintended the fixing of the statue on its pedestal. He complained that the cement supplied for the purpose by his uncle was of very inferior quality, and expressed grave doubts about the stability of the structure. Dr. O'Grady did not seem very anxious. He hinted that the people of Ballymoy would be quite satisfied if the statue stood for twenty-four hours. The weather was exceptionally fine and calm. There was no reason?if the unveiling were carefully done?why Doyle's cement should be subjected to any strain whatever.

At nine o'clock on the morning of the Lord-Lieutenant's visit, Dr.

O'Grady, with the help of Doyle and two labourers, who had three step-ladders, veiled the statue. They draped it from the head to the bottom of the pedestal in a large sheet of blay calico of a light yellowish colour. This was carefully done, and an elaborate arrangement of string was made, leading out from the statue to the place where the Lord-Lieutenant was to stand. Dr. O'Grady satisfied himself by a series of experiments that the apparatus would work. At a single pull at the end of the string the whole sheet fluttered to the ground and exposed the Deputy-Lieutenant to public view.