eep watch himself. Every day he took by right the chair at the
meetings. Had he not been present, who knows that it would not have been
wrested from him? In the early afternoon I saw him more than once walk
with a firm step, with an ashy pale face, his eyes fixed straight in
front of him, through the yard, through the Lobby, up the stairs, and
into Room 15, accompanied by his secretary, Mr. Campbell. The members of
his Party, on their arrival, found him sitting where they had left him
the night before. I recollect one morning, as he passed where I was
standing, he never moved his head, but I heard him say to Mr. Campbell,
"Who's that? what does he want?" in a sharp, nervous manner. He never
seemed to recognise anyone, or wish them to recognise him. His one idea
was to face the man who wished to fight him in the little ring they had
selected in the Committee Room No. 15.

[Illustration: TO ROOM 15.]

No outsider but myself heard any portion of that debate, for at the
beginning of it the reporters, who were standing round the doors outside
to hear what they could, were ordered away; and I was left there, not
being a reporter, to finish a rather tedious sketch of the corridor. A
policeman was placed at either end of this very long passage, and if
anyone had to pass that way he was not allowed to pause for a moment at
the door of the room upon which the interest of the political world was
centred at the moment. Nearly all the time I was there I only saw the
policeman at either end, and one solitary figure seated on the bench
outside the door. It was the figure of a woman with a kind,
homely-looking face, resting with her head upon her hand. She seemed not
to be aware of, or at least not interested in what was going on inside;
she simply sighed as Big Ben tolled on toward the hour for the dismissal
of the Leader of the Irish Party. She was the wife of a blind Member of
Parliament who was taking part in the proceedings, and her thoughts were
evidently more intent upon seeing that her husband was not worn out by
that strange, long struggle than in the political significance of the
meeting.

[Illustration: OUTSIDE ROOM 15.]

It was my good fortune to hear what was perhaps the most interesting of
the speeches--John Redmond's defence of his chief--and I never wish to
listen to a finer oration. Everyone admits that the Irish are, by
nature, good speakers, but they are not always sincere. Here was a
combat in which there was no