is moustache and gaped about
him with bloodshot eyes. There were other Sinn Feiners with him, but he
was the most distinctive. He could not stay still: he moved about
continually, going into the Park and coming out again, challenging
passers-by, sloping his rifle and ordering it, and then sloping it
again. "The thing's getting on his nerves," Henry thought, as he watched
him; and while he watched, an elderly man came past the Shelbourne Hotel
in the uniform of a naval officer. The Sinn Feiners saw him, and the
red-haired man ordered his subordinates to arrest him. They ran across
the street and attempted to seize him, but he resisted, and raised his
walking stick to defend himself. A rebel caught hold of the stick, and
the two men stood there, against a gateway, struggling to wrest the
stick from each other. The up-and-down movement of their arms was like
the quick, jerky movement of figures in a film, and for a moment or two,
Henry wanted to laugh ... but the desire died when he saw the red-haired
man raising his rifle and aiming at the old man's heart....

"Oh, my God, he's going to shoot him!" he shouted out, jumping up from
his seat and leaning out of the window. "Don't shoot him ... don't shoot
him!" he cried. It seemed to him that he was yelling at the top of his
voice, but that could not have been so, for no one turned to look ...
and yet he could hear the red-haired man distinctly.

"I have ye covered," he was saying, "an' I'll shoot ye if ye don't give
in!..."

The old man held on to the stick for a moment or two, and then,
straightening himself, he surrendered; and the rebels led him into the
Park. Through the trees, Henry could see him being conducted before a
rebel officer who saluted him and began to interrogate him. Then the
procession moved off into the centre of the Park, and the little angry,
red-haired man returned to the gate.

"In the morning," Henry exclaimed to himself, "in the morning, that
little swine will sing another song!"

12

A horse-drawn cab came down the street, and as it approached, the guard
at the gate turned out, and challenged the driver. "Halt!" they shouted.

"Ah, g'long with you!" the driver replied, whipping up his horse.

"Halt!" they called again, and a third time "Halt!" but the driver did
not heed them, and then they fired at him.... There was a clatter of
hooves on the street, and the horse fell to the ground, striking sparks
from the stones as it struggled to ri