he enemy while the other
part marches round the end of the river and enters the enemy's chief
stronghold from the back. Thus he gains his object and establishes his
character for determination without losing half his army.

Dr. Lucius O'Grady was a born leader of men. He discovered very soon
that in the matter of the performance of "God Save the King" by the
town band, fate had a rope round his leg and was likely to scourge him
uncomfortably if he pulled against it. The introduction of variations
into the tune proved to be a much more difficult matter than he had
supposed. He worked hard for six hours on Major Kent's piano, and
produced two versions of which he thought well, though neither of them
completely satisfied him. He sent for Constable Moriarty and played them
over to him. Moriarty sat and listened to the first.

"Would you know what that tune was, Moriarty?" said Dr. O'Grady.

"I would, of course. Anybody would. I don't say but there's bits in it
that isn't right, but you have the tune safe enough."

"Would Thady Gallagher know it?"

"He would," said Moriarty, "and what's more he'd be lepping mad when
he heard it. And you couldn't wonder. You wouldn't like it yourself,
doctor, if somebody was to play a tune at you that you hated worse nor
you hate the devil."

Dr. O'Grady was disappointed.

"Are you sure now," he said, "that he wouldn't be taken in by the
variations? I don't know whether you quite realise the number of
variations there are? Just listen to me again."

He played his composition through once more, touching the notes which
gave the tune very softly, hammering hard at the long runs and fiery
groups of semi-quavers which he had sandwiched in between the scraps of
tune.

"I wouldn't say," said Moriarty, "that you've destroyed it altogether;
though it's my opinion that it's better the way it was before you set
your hand to it. But anyhow you needn't be uneasy. There isn't a man,
woman or child that ever heard the tune but would know what you're
aiming at."

Dr. O'Grady felt that Moriarty's judgment in the matter was too decisive
and confident to be ignored.

"Very well," he said. "Now listen to this."

He played through the second of his two compositions.

"Now," he said, "what tune is that, Moriarty?"

Moriarty scratched his head and looked inquiringly at the doctor.

"Is it what tune is that that you're asking me?" he said.

"Exactly. What tune is it?"

"It's no tune at all," s