the
consumption of alcohol as undesirable. But the sergeant had good reason
to suppose that many thirsty people found their way to the refreshment
they craved through the back-yard. Sweeny was an object of suspicion
and dislike to the sergeant. Therefore he stirred the gravel on the
quay again and again looked at the gravel in the boat. There is no law
against buying gravel; but it seemed to the sergeant very difficult
to believe that Sweeny had bought four boatloads of it. Joseph Antony
Kinsella felt that some explanation was due to the sergeant.

"It's a gentleman up the country," he said, "that Sweeny's buying the
gravel for. I did hear that he's to send it by rail when I have the
whole of it landed."

He watched the sergeant out of the corners of his eyes to see how he
would receive this statement. The sergeant did not seem to be altogether
satisfied.

"What are you getting for it?" he asked.

"Five shillings a load."

"You're doing well," said the sergeant.

"It's good gravel, so it is, the best."

"It may be good gravel," said the sergeant, "but the gentleman that's
buying it will buy it dear if you take the half of every load you bring
in home in the evening and fetch it here again the next morning along
with a little more."

The sergeant stared at the gravel in the boat as he spoke. His face had
cleared, and the look of suspicion had left his eyes. Sweeny, so his
instinct told him, must be engaged in some kind of wrongdoing.

Now he understood what it was. The gentleman up the country was to be
defrauded of half the gravel he paid for. Curiously enough, considering
that his wrongdoing had been detected, the look of anxiety left
Kinsella's face. He sucked at his pipe, found that it had gone out, and
slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

"If neither Sweeny nor the gentleman is making any complaint," he said,
"it would suit you to keep your mouth shut."

"I'm not blaming you," said the sergeant "Sure, anybody'd do the same if
they got the chance."

"If there's people in the world," said Kinsella, "that hasn't sense
enough to see that they get what they pay for, oughtn't we to be
thankful for it?"

"You're right there," said the sergeant

Kinsella took out his pipe and lit it again. Sergeant Rafferty after
examining the sea with attentive scrutiny for some minutes, strolled
back towards his barracks.

Peter Walsh slid off the window sill of Brannigan's shop and took a long
look at the sky. Hav