On the bridge we met McConkey, sweating profusely, taking his
favourite weapon along at a rapid trot. He stopped when he saw us and
halted his breathless team.

"I have her working again," he said, "and she'll shoot the now."

"You're too late," said Bland.

"Is she sunken?" said McConkey. "Man o' man but I'm sorry for it. I
wanted sore to have a shot at her."

"She's not sunk," said Bland, "but she's gone. Steamed clean out of
range of your gun."

"I'd have liked well to have got to her before she quit," said
McConkey. "Did you hear tell what she did with that shell she fired
into the town?"

"No," I said. "Did it kill many people?"

"Sorra the one," said McConkey. "But I'll tell you what it did do."
His voice sank to a hoarse but singularly impressive whisper. "It made
flitters of the statue of the old Queen that was sitting fornint the
City Hall. The like of thon is nice work for men that's wearing the
King's uniform."

Bland burst into a sudden fit of boisterous laughter.

"You may laugh if it pleases you," said McConkey, "but I'm thinking
it's time for loyal men to be getting guns of their own when the
Government is that thick with rebels and Papishes that they'd go
shooting at the ould Queen who was always a decent woman, so she was,
and too good for the like of them."

McConkey's story was perfectly true. The solitary shell which was
fired into Belfast fell just outside the City Hall. It injured that
building a good deal; and it entirely destroyed the statue of Queen
Victoria. It is a curious evidence of the amazing loyalty of the
people of Belfast that many of them were more angry at this insult to
Majesty than they would have been if the shell had killed half a dozen
volunteers. McConkey was not by any means the only man who saw in the
accident evidence of an unholy alliance between the Liberal Government
and the men whom Babberly was accustomed to describe as "Steeped to
the lips in treason."

CHAPTER XXIV

Bland and I stood together outside the City Hall and surveyed the
shattered fragments of the statue. The shell must have exploded quite
close to it, and I was immensely impressed at first with the terrific
power of modern artillery. Then I began to think about the moral
effects of the bombardment, and I saw my way to helping Bland in his
profession. He had been very kind to me and very helpful. I wanted to
do him a good turn if I could.

"This," I said, "is a magnificent opportun