"I'm delighted to see you," he said, "though we expected the Lord-Lieutenant. By the way, you're not the Lord-Lieutenant, are you, by any chance?"

"My name is Blakeney, Lord Alfred Blakeney."

"I was afraid you weren't," said Dr. O'Grady. "Father McCormack and Doyle insisted that you were. But I knew that His Excellency must be a much older man. They couldn't very well make anybody of your age Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, though I daresay you'd do very well, and deserve the honour quite as much as lots of people that get it."

Lord Alfred Blakeney had been at Eton as a boy and at Christchurch, Oxford, afterwards as a young man. He was a Captain in the Genadier Guards, and he was aide-de-camp to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. It seemed quite impossible that an Irish dispensary doctor could be trying to poke fun at him. He supposed that Dr. O'Grady was lamentably ignorant.

"I am here," he said, "at His Excellency's express command——"

"Quite so," said Dr. O'Grady. "We understand. You're his representative. He was pretty well bound to send somebody considering the way he's treated us, telegraphing at the last moment. We're quite ready to make excuses for him, of course, if he's got a sudden attack of influenza or anything of that sort. At the same time he ought to have come unless he's very bad indeed. However, as you're here, we may as well be getting on with the business. Where's Doyle?"

Doyle was just behind him. He was, in fact, plucking at Dr. O'Grady's sleeve. He leaned forward and whispered:

"Speak a word to the gentleman about the pier. He's a high up gentleman surely, and if you speak to him he'll use his influence with the Lord-Lieutenant."

"Be quiet, Doyle," said Dr. O'Grady. "Go off and get the bouquet as quick as you can and give it to Mrs. Gregg."

Lord Alfred Blakeney, who had gasped with astonishment at the end of Dr. O'Grady's last speech to him, recovered his dignity with an effort.

"You evidently don't understand that I have come here, at the Lord-Lieutenant's express command——"

"You said that before," said Dr. O'Grady.

"To ask for—in fact to demand an explanation of——"

"I should have thought that you'd have offered some sort of explanation to us. After all, we've been rather badly treated and——"

"An explanation," said Lord Alfred sternly, "if any explanation is possible, of the extraordinary hoax which you've seen fit to play on His Excellency."

A group of spectators formed a circle round Dr. O'Grady and Lord Alfred. Father McCormack, puzzled and anxious, stood beside Mrs. Gregg. The Major was at a little distance from them. Mary Ellen stood almost alone beside the statue. The children of the town, attracted by some new excitement, had left her, and in spite of Sergeant Colgan, were pushing their way towards Lord Alfred. Dr. O'Grady looked round him and frowned at the people.

Then he took Lord Alfred by the arm and led him away to a corner of the square near the police barrack where there were very few people.

"Now," he said, "we can talk in peace. It's impossible to discuss anything in the middle of a crowd. You seem to think that the Lord-Lieutenant has some sort of grievance against us. What is it?"

"You surely understand that," said Lord Alfred, "without my telling you. You've attempted to play off an outrageous hoax on the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. At least that's my view of it."

"Quite a mistaken one!"

"The Lord-Lieutenant himself hopes that there may be some other explanation. That is why he sent me down here. He wants to give you the chance of clearing yourselves if you can. I may say frankly that if he'd asked my opinion I should——"

"You'd have put us in prison at once," said Dr. O'Grady, "and kept us there till we died. You'd have been perfectly right. We'd have deserved it richly if we really had——"

"Then you are prepared to offer an explanation?"

"I'll explain anything you like," said Dr. O'Grady, "if you'll only tell me what your difficulty is. Oh, hang it! Excuse me one moment. Here's that ass Doyle coming at us again."

Doyle had brought the bouquet out of the hotel and given it to Mrs. Gregg. He had warned Constable Moriarty not to allow the people to press against the statue. He was crossing the square in the direction of the police barrack when Dr. O'Grady saw him and went to meet him.

"Doctor," said Doyle, "will you keep in mind what I was saying to you this minute about the pier? Get a promise of it out of the gentleman."

"It's utterly impossible for me," said Dr. O'Grady, "to do anything if you keep interrupting me every minute. I'm in the middle of an extremely difficult negotiation, and unless I'm allowed a free hand there'll certainly be no pier."

"If there's no pier," said Doyle angrily, "it'll be the worse for you. Don't you forget, doctor, that you owe me a matter of L60, and if I'm at the loss of more money over this statue——"

Constable Moriarty's voice rang out across the square. He was speaking in very strident tones.

"Will you stand back out of that?" he said. "What business have you there at all? Didn't I tell you a minute ago that you weren't to go near the statue?"

Dr. O'Grady and Doyle turned round to see what was happening. A man from the crowd, a well-dressed man, had slipped past Constable Moriarty and reached the statue. He had raised the bottom of the sheet which covered it and was peering at the inscription on the pedestal.

"Doyle," said Dr. O'Grady, "that's the American again. That's Billing."

"Bedamn!" said Doyle excitedly. "You're right. It's him sure enough."

"Go and seize him. Take him into the hotel. Drag his subscription out of him if you have to use a knife to get it. Whatever happens don't let him go again."

Doyle realised what his duty was before Dr. O'Grady had stopped speaking. He ran across the square to the statue. Mr. Billing, heedless of Moriarty's threats, was lifting the sheet still higher. He had read the inscription and wanted to inspect the statue itself. Doyle seized him by the shoulder.

"Come you along with me," he said, "and come quiet if you don't want me to give you in charge of the police."

Dr. O'Grady, watching from a distance, saw Mr. Billing marched off towards the hotel. Then he turned to Lord Alfred again.

"I must apologize," he said, "for running away from you like that. But we couldn't have talked with that fellow, Doyle, pestering us. You don't know Doyle, of course. If you did, and if you happened to owe him a little money you'd realise how infernally persistent he can be."

Lord Alfred had also been watching the capture of Mr. Billing. He wanted to understand, if possible; what was going on round about him.

"What is your friend doing with the other man?" he asked.

"Only capturing him," said Dr. O'Grady. "You needn't feel any anxiety about that. The other man is an American and a thorough-paced swindler. Nothing will happen to him that he doesn't deserve. But we mustn't waste time. We've still got to unveil the statue. You go on with what you were saying. You were just going to tell me what the Lord-Lieutenant's difficulty is."

"You invited His Excellency down here," said Lord Alfred, "to unveil a statue——"

"Quite right. And we have the statue ready. There it is." He pointed out the statue as he spoke.

"The statue," said Lord Alfred, "purports to represent General John Regan."

"It does represent him. There's no purporting about the matter. The General's name is on the pedestal. You'll see it yourself as soon as you unveil it."

"It now appears," said Lord Alfred coldly, "that there never was such a person as General John Regan."

"Well? Try and get along a little quicker. I don't see yet where the insult to the Lord-Lieutenant is supposed to come in."

"You asked the Lord-Lieutenant to unveil a faked-up statue, and you have the amazing assurance to say now that you don't see that you've done anything wrong."

"I don't."

"But there never was a General——"

"Do you mean to say," said Dr. O'Grady, "that the Lord-Lieutenant supposed that the General really existed?"

"Of course he supposed it. How could there be a statue to him if he didn't? We all supposed it. It wasn't until His Excellency began to prepare the speech he was to make that we found out the truth. He wrote to the British Museum and to the Librarian at the Bodleian——"

"I'm sorry he took all that trouble. We didn't expect anything of the sort."

"What did you expect?"

"Oh, I don't know. A few words about the elevating nature of great works of art—particularly statues. You know the sort of thing I mean. How the English nation occupies the great position it does very largely because it flocks to the Royal Academy regularly every year. How the people of Ballymoy are opening up a new era for Ireland. But I needn't go on. You must have heard him making speeches scores of times. That was all we wanted, and if we'd had the slightest idea that he was taking a lot of trouble to prepare a learned lecture we'd have told him that he needn't."

"But how could he make any speech about a General who never existed?"

"My dear Lord Alfred! What has the General got to do with it? We didn't want a speech about him. We wanted one about his statue."

"But it isn't his statue. If there was no General there can't be a statue to him."

"There is," said Dr. O'Grady. "There's no use flying in the face of facts. The statue's under that sheet."

"It's not. I mean to say that there may be a statue there, but it's not to General John Regan. How can there be a statue to him when there was no such person?"

"Was there ever such a person as Venus?" said Dr. O'Grady. "There wasn't. And yet every museum in Europe is half full of statues of her. Was there ever such a person as the Dying Gladiator? Was there ever a man called Laocoon, who strangled sea serpents? You know perfectly well that there weren't any such people, and yet some of the most famous statues in the world are erected in memory of them."

"But His Excellency naturally thought——"

"Look here," said Dr. O'Grady, "if we'd asked him to unveil a statue of Hercules in Ballymoy, would he have gone round consulting the librarians of London and Oxford to find out whether there was such a person as Hercules or not? Would he have said he was insulted? Would he have sent you here to ask for an apology? You know perfectly well he wouldn't."

Lord Alfred seemed slightly puzzled. Dr. O'Grady's line of argument was quite new to him. He felt sure that a fallacy underlay it somewhere, but he could not at the moment see what the fallacy was.

"The case of Hercules is quite different," he said feebly.

"It's not in the least different. It's exactly the same. There was no such person as Hercules. Yet there are several statues of him. There was no such person as our General, but there may be lots of statues to him. There's certainly one. There's probably at least another. I should think the people of Bolivia are sure to have one. We'll ask Billing when we see him."

"Is he the priest who mistook me for the Lord-Lieutenant?"

"Oh, no. He's the swindler whom Doyle caught. By the way, here's Doyle coming out of the hotel again. Do you mind if I call him?"

Doyle crossed the square very slowly, because he stopped frequently to speak to the people whom he saw. He stopped when he came to Father McCormack and whispered something to him. He stopped when he came to Major Kent. He stopped for a moment beside Mrs. Gregg. He seemed to be full of some news and eager to tell it to everybody. When he saw Dr. O'Grady coming to meet him he hurried forward.

"I have it," he said, "I have it safe."

"The cheque?" said Dr. O'Grady.

"Better than that. Notes. Bank of Ireland notes."

"Good," said Dr. O'Grady. "Then it won't make so much matter if we don't get the pier. I'm having a hard job with Lord Alfred. It appears that the Lord-Lieutenant is in a pretty bad temper, and it may not be easy to get the pier. However, I'll do my best. I wish you'd go and fetch the illuminated address. Is Thady Gallagher safe?"

"He's making a speech this minute within, in the bar, and Mr. Billing's listening to him."

"Good. Get the illuminated address for me now as quick as you can."

Doyle hurried off in the direction of the hotel. Dr. O'Grady turned once more to Lord Alfred.

"By the way," he said, "before we go on with the unveiling of the statue would you mind telling me this: Have you got an ear for music?"

Lord Alfred had recovered a little from the bewildering effect of Dr. O'Grady's argument. He reminded himself that he had a duty to perform. He regained with an effort his original point of view, and once more felt sure that the Lord-Lieutenant had been grossly insulted.

"I've listened to all you have to say," he said, "and I still feel, in fact I feel more strongly than ever, that an apology is due to His Excellency."

"Very well," said Dr. O'Grady, "I've no objection whatever to apologising. I'm extremely sorry that he was put to such a lot of unnecessary trouble. If I'd had the least idea that he wouldn't have understood about the General—— but I thought he'd have known. I still think he ought to have known. But I won't say a word about that. Tell him from me that I'm extremely sorry. And now, have you an ear for music?"

"That's not an apology," said Lord Alfred. "I won't go back to His Excellency and tell him—— hang it! I can't tell him all that stuff about Venus and Hercules."

"I wish you'd tell me whether you have an ear for music or not. You don't understand the situation because you haven't met Thady Gallagher. But I can't ask you to unveil the statue until I know whether you've an ear for music or not."

"I don't know what you mean, but——"

Dr. O'Grady made a click with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He was becoming very impatient.

"Well, I haven't," said Lord Alfred. "I don't see what business it is of yours whether I have or not; but anyhow, I haven't."

"None at all? You wouldn't know one tune from another?"

"No, I wouldn't. And now will you tell me——"

"I'll tell you anything you like when this business is over. I haven't time to enter into long explanations now. The people are beginning to get very impatient."

Young Kerrigan, with his bandsmen grouped around him, was standing a little below the police barrack. Dr. O'Grady walked quickly over to him. He told him to be ready to begin to play the moment he received the signal.

"And—— listen to me now," he said. "You're to play some other tune, not the one I taught you."

"I'm just as glad," said young Kerrigan. "It's equal to me what tune I play, but Thady Gallagher—What tune will I play?"

"Anything you like," said Dr. O'Grady. "Whatever you know best, but not the one I taught you. Remember that."

He left young Kerrigan, and hurried over to where Major Kent, Father McCormack and Mrs. Gregg were standing together near the statue.

"We're now going to unveil the statue," he said, "and everybody must be ready to do his part. Father McCormack, I want you to take charge of Mary Ellen. In the absence of the Lord-Lieutenant she'll pull the string. You're to see that she does it when I give the word. Then you must go across to the door of the hotel and keep a look out for Thady Gallagher. If he tries to make any sort of disturbance quell him at once."

"I'm willing to try," said Father McCormack, "and so far as Mary Ellen is concerned I'm right enough. She's a good girl, and she'll do as I bid her. But it'd take more than me to pacify Thady when he hears the band."

"It's all right about that the band won't play that tune at all. As it happens Lord Alfred has no ear whatever for music. That lets us out of what was rather an awkward hole. Young Kerrigan can play anything he likes, and so long as we all take off our hats, Lord Alfred'll think it's 'God Save the King.' Thady won't be able to say a word."

"If that's the way of it," said Father McCormack, "I'll do the best I can with Thady."

"Mrs. Gregg," said Dr. O'Grady, "you can't present that bouquet, so the best thing for you to do is to step forward the moment the sheet drops off and deposit it at the foot of the statue. Major——"

"You may leave me out," said Major Kent. "I'm merely a spectator."

"You'll support Mrs. Gregg when she's paying her floral tribute to the memory of the dead General."

"I'll do no such thing."

"You must, Major. You can't let poor Mrs. Gregg go forward alone."

"Please do," said Mrs. Gregg. "I shall be frightfully nervous."

"But—but—hang it all, O'Grady, how can I? What do you mean?"

"It's perfectly simple. Just walk forward beside her and smile. That's all that's wanted. The band will be playing at the time and nobody will notice you much. Now, I think everybody understands thoroughly what to do, and there's no reason why the proceedings shouldn't be a flaming success in spite of the conduct of the Lord-Lieutenant."

"What about the Lord-Lieutenant?" said Father McCormack. "I'd be glad if I knew what the reason is of his not coming to us when he promised."

"The reason's plain enough," said the Major. "He evidently has some common sense."

"As a matter of fact," said Dr. O'Grady, "the exact contrary is the case. What Lord Alfred says is that he wouldn't come because he found out at the last moment that there was no such person as General John Regan. I don't call that sensible."

"I was thinking all along," said Father McCormack, "that there was something queer about the General."



CHAPTER XX

Doyle came out of the hotel bringing the illuminated address. Dr. O'Grady took it from him and carried it over to Lord Alfred.

"Just take this," he said.

Lord Alfred looked at the address doubtfully. It was very large, and seemed an awkward thing to carry about.

"What is it?" he said.

"It's an illuminated address. We intended to present it to the Lord-Lieutenant, but of course we can't when he isn't here. You're to take it, and hand it over to him next time you see him."

He pushed the address into Lord Alfred's arms as he spoke.

Many men would have made some resistance, would have put their hands into their pockets, perhaps, and so forced Dr. O'Grady either to hold the frame himself or drop it on the ground. But Lord Alfred Blakeney had been aide-de-camp to the Lord-Lieutenant for several years. He knew something of the spirit which must animate all viceroys. It is their business to commend themselves, their office and the party which appoints them to the people over whom they reign. In private a Lord-Lieutenant with a sense of humour—no good Lord-Lieutenant ought to have a sense of humour—may mock at the things he has to do, but in public, however absurd the position in which he finds himself, he must remain gravely suave. His aides-de-camp must never under any circumstances do anything which could possibly cause offence to any part of the community. Dr. O'Grady was certainly a very important and influential part of the community of Ballymoy. Lord Alfred allowed the illuminated address to be pushed into his arms. He attempted no more than a mild protest.

"Can't I lay it down somewhere?" he said. "It's so huge."

"Better not. If you do it's sure to be forgotten, and then we'll have to forward it by post, which will involve us in a lot of extra expense."

"But it's so absurd to be lugging a great picture frame about in my arms all day, and I can't carry it any other way. It's too big."

Dr. O'Grady, having made over the address to Lord Alfred, was not inclined to listen to any complaints about its size. He took off his hat and stepped forward towards the statue.

"Ladies and gentlemen——" he said.

The few people who could see Dr. O'Grady stopped talking in order to hear what he was going to say.

"Ladies and gentlemen——" he said again.

This time, the nearer people having stopped talking, his voice carried further than it did at his first attempt. Very many more people turned round and began to listen.

"Ladies and gentlemen——" he said.

This third beginning secured him a large audience. Nearly half the people in the square were listening to him. He felt justified in going on with his speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "we are now going to proceed with the unveiling of the statue of General John Regan. Mary Ellen, whom most of you know——"

He paused and the crowd cheered. A crowd nearly always cheers anyone who is mentioned by name in a speech, unless it is quite plain that the speaker means to be abusive.

"Mary Ellen," said Dr. O'Grady, "who is the nearest living relative of the great General, will perform the ceremony. Now, Mary Ellen," he went on, in a lower tone, "pull the string. Father McCormack, give her the string. She doesn't seem able to find it."

Father McCormack handed the end of the string to Mary Ellen. She chucked at it in a timid, doubtful way. Nothing happened.

"Pull harder," said Dr. O'Grady.

Sergeant Colgan, who was a benevolent man, and therefore anxious that the ceremony should be a success, stepped to Mary Ellen's side and laid his hand on hers. He pulled hard. The sheet fluttered to the ground. The crowd cheered delightedly.

"There now," said Dr. O'Grady to Lord Alfred Blakeney, "I told you there really was a statue under that sheet. Next time I say something to you I hope you'll believe it."

He held up his hand, and young Kerrigan, who was watching for the signal, began to play at once. The tune he chose was an attractive one which had achieved some popularity in a Dublin pantomime the year before. Mrs. Gregg glanced dubiously at Dr. O'Grady, and then walked towards the statue with the bouquet in her hand. When she had gone five or six yards she stopped and looked round to see what had happened to Major Kent. He was hanging back, but the piteous appeal in her eyes moved him. He scowled ferociously at the doctor, and then with clenched teeth and closely pressed lips joined Mrs. Gregg. Everybody cheered. The Major, in spite of being a landlord, was very popular in the neighbourhood. The cheers made him still more uncomfortable. He frowned with embarrassment and anger. Mrs. Gregg laid her hand on his arm. Still frowning, he led her forward, very much as if he were taking her in to dinner. Mrs. Gregg was frightened and nervous. She had only the vaguest idea of what she was expected to do. When she reached the base of the statue she curtseyed deeply. The people cheered frantically. Major Kent dropped her arm and hurried away. He was a gentleman of an old-fashioned kind, and, partly perhaps because he had never married, was very chivalrous towards women. But Mrs. Gregg's curtsey and the cheers which followed it were too much for him. His position had become intolerable. Mrs. Gregg, suddenly deserted by her escort, dropped the bouquet and fled. Sergeant Colgan picked it up and laid it solemnly at the foot of the statue. Young Kerrigan, stimulated by the cheers, worked the band up to a fortissimo performance of his tune.

Dr. O'Grady held his hat in his hand. He signalled frantically to Father McCormack. He took off his hat, whispering to Major Kent as he did so. The Major, who was utterly bewildered, and not at all sure what was happening, took off his hat. Several other bystanders, supposing that it must be right to stand bare-headed before a newly unveiled statue, took off theirs: Lord Alfred Blakeney looked round him doubtfully. Most of the people near him had their hats in their hands. He took off his.

The unusually loud noise made by the band reached Thady Gallagher in the bar of the hotel. He stopped abruptly in the middle of a speech which he was making to Mr. Billing. After a moment's hesitation he rushed to the door of the hotel. The sight of the people, standing bare-headed and silent while the band played, convinced him that Dr. O'Grady was in the act of perpetrating a treacherous trick upon the sincerely patriotic but unsuspecting inhabitants of Ballymoy. Standing at the door of the hotel he shouted and waved his arms. Mr. Billing stood behind him looking on with an expression of serious interest. Nobody could hear what Gallagher said. But Father McCormack and Doyle, fearing that he would succeed in making himself audible, hurried towards him. Doyle seized him by the arm, Gallagher shook him off angrily.

"It shall never be said," he shouted, "that I stood silent while an insult was heaped upon Ballymoy and the cause of Nationalism in Ireland."

"Whisht, now whisht," said Father McCormack. "Sure there's nothing to be angry about."

"There is what would make any man angry, any man that has the welfare of Ireland at heart. That tune——"

"It isn't that tune at all," said Father McCormack. "It's another one altogether."

"It's not another," said Gallagher, "but it's the one I mean. Didn't Constable Moriarty say it was?"

"Oughtn't you to listen to his reverence," said Doyle, "more than to Moriarty? But if you won't do that, can't you hear the tune for yourself?"

"I can hear it; and what's more I can see the Major with his hat off and the young fellow that's down from Dublin Castle with his hat off, and the doctor——"

"It's my belief, Thady," said Doyle, "that you're three parts drunk. It would be better for you to go back into the hotel."

He caught Gallagher by the arm as he spoke and held him fast Young Kerrigan reached the end of his tune with a triumphant flourish. Dr. O'Grady put on his hat again. One by one the various bystanders followed his example. Lord Alfred Blakeney looked round him, puzzled.

"Surely that wasn't the National Anthem?" he said.

"I thought," said Dr. O'Grady, "that you didn't know one tune from another."

"I don't; but, hang it all, a man can't be aide-decamp to His Excellency without getting to know the sound of the National Anthem. What tune was it and why did we all take off our hats?"

"You tell the Lord-Lieutenant when you get back," said Dr. O'Grady, "that we all, including Major Kent, who's a strong Unionist, stood bare-headed while the band played. He'll be able to guess what tune it was, and he'll be pleased."

"But it wasn't the——"

"A speech will now be made," said Dr. O'Grady, addressing the crowd, "by Lord Alfred Blakeney as representative of the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland."

"But I'm not," said Lord Alfred clutching at Dr. O'Grady. "His Excellency will be furious if he hears——"

"Go on," said Dr. O'Grady pushing him towards the statue. "Stand on the pedestal."

"But I can't make a speech. I'm not prepared. I've nothing to say."

He was pushed forward remorselessly. At the very base of the statue he turned.

"I hope there are no reporters present," he said in a tone of despair.

"There probably are lots," said Dr. O'Grady. "Get up now and begin. The people won't stand here all day."

Lord Alfred Blakeney, still clasping the illuminated address in his arms, was hustled on to the lowest step of the pedestal. The people cheered encouragingly.

"Oh damn this great picture," said Lord Alfred. "Do hold it for me."

"Never mind it," said Dr. O'Grady. "It's all right as it is. Make your speech."

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Lord Alfred, "I find myself standing here to-day——"

"As representative of the Lord-Lieutenant," said Dr. O'Grady, prompting him.

"But I'm not. I tell you he'll be angry. I can't make this speech. I really can't."

"You can if you like," said Dr. O'Grady. "Go on."

"I stand here to-day," said Lord Alfred, "at the unveiling of this beautiful statue——"

"Hear, hear," said Doyle from the door of the hotel. "It's a grand statue surely."

"Go on," said Dr. O'Grady. "You're doing capitally. Say something about the grant from the Government for a new pier."

"About what?" said Lord Alfred.

"About a grant for a new pier," said Dr. O'Grady, speaking distinctly.

"But I've no authority. I can't."

"L500 will satisfy us," said Dr. O'Grady. "It's a mere trifle. After the shabby way the Lord-Lieutenant has behaved to us—but go on, anyway."

"I have much pleasure," said Lord Alfred Blakeney, "in declaring this statue—er—open—er—for public inspection."

The crowd cheered loudly. Dr. O'Grady whispered to Lord Alfred that he ought to say something about the value of the statue as a work of art. But this time Lord Alfred's will was stronger than the doctor's. He jumped off the pedestal and flatly declined to mount it again. He was crimson in the face with mortification and embarrassment. Then, when the cheering subsided a little, Mr. Billing's voice was heard, clear and incisive. He had pushed his way from the door of the hotel and was standing near the statue.

"That's a darned poor speech," he said.

It is extraordinary how close the primitive barbarian is to the most civilised man. No one could have been more carefully trained than Lord Alfred Blakeney. No one possessed more of that suave self-control which distinguishes a man of the governing classes from the members of the mob. Yet Lord Alfred collapsed suddenly under the strain to which he had been subjected. Mr. Billing's taunt threw him back to an earlier, a very early stage of development.

"Make a better one yourself, then," he said, "whoever you are."

"I'll make one that'll create a sensation, anyhow," said Mr. Billing.

He stepped jauntily up the two steps of the pedestal.

"Mr. Lord-Lieutenant, Right Reverend Sir, Ladies and Gentlemen," he said.

Lord Alfred Blakeney clutched Dr. O'Grady by the arm.

"I'm not the Lord-Lieutenant," he said desperately.

"I'm not even his representative. Do try to make him understand that."

"It doesn't in the least matter who you are," said Dr. O'Grady. "Listen to the speech."

"When I first set eyes on this town a month ago I thought I had bumped up against a most dead-alive, god-forsaken, one-horse settlement that Europe could boast."

The crowd, being as Gallagher always asserted intensely patriotic, was not at all pleased at this beginning. Several people groaned loudly. Mr. Billing listened to them with a bland smile. The people were still further irritated and began to boo. Thady Gallagher broke suddenly from Doyle's control, and rushed forward waving his arms.

"Pull the Yank down out of that," he shouted. "What right has he to be standing there maligning the people of Ireland?"

Father McCormack and Doyle were after him at once and closed on him, each of them grasping one of his swinging arms.

"Behave yourself, Thady," said Father McCormack, "behave yourself decent."

"Isn't it him that's paying for the statue," said Doyle, "and hasn't he a right to say what he likes?"

Mr. Billing seemed quite unimpressed by Gallagher's fiery interruption. He smiled benevolently again.

"I got bitten with the notion of speeding you up a bit," he said, "because I felt plumb sure that there wasn't a live man in the place, nothing but a crowd of doddering hop-toads."

The hop-toad is a reptile unknown in Ireland, but its name sounds disgusting. The crowd began to get very angry, and surged threateningly towards the platform. Sergeant Colgan felt that a great opportunity had arrived. He had all his life been looking for a chance of quelling a riot. He had it at last.

"Keep back, now," he said, "keep back out of that. Do you want me to draw my baton to you?"

"Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Billing, "I was mistaken and I own up. There is one live man in Ballymoy anyway. We haven't got a medical gentleman on our side of the Atlantic equal to Dr. Lucius O'Grady. He has run this show in a way that has surprised me considerable. He has erected a statue that will be an ornament to this town, and it's a pleasure to me to pay for it."

"Hear, hear," shouted Doyle.

The crowd, which had been booing a minute before, cheered heartily.

"He's fetched down the representative of the Lord-Lieutenant of this country to unveil the statue!"

"I'm not," said Lord Alfred feebly. "I wish I could get you to understand that I'm not his representative."

His protest was lost in a fresh burst of cheers.

"He has provided a charming grand-niece," said Mr. Billing, "a grand-niece that any man, living or dead, might be proud of—-"

"Get out," said Mary Ellen softly.

"For General John Regan," said Mr. Billing amidst tumultuous cheers, "and when I tell you that no such General ever existed in Bolivia or anywhere else, you'll be in a position to appreciate your doctor."

Doyle dropped Gallagher's arm and rushed forward. The crowd, too, astonished by Mr. Billing's last words, even to cheer, stood silent. What Doyle said was plainly heard.

"Be damn, doctor, but you're great, and I'd say that if it was the last word ever I spoke. Ask him for the price of the new pier now and he'll give it to you."

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Billing, "if 2,000 dollars will build the pier Mr. Doyle wants, I'll give it with pleasure, and I reckon that the show which Dr. O'Grady has run is cheap at the price."

Sergeant Colgan stepped forward with slow dignity. He beckoned to Constable Moriarty. His face wore an expression of steady determination.

"It would be better, doctor," he said, "if you and the other gentlemen present would move away. The demeanour of the crowd is threatening."

The demeanour of the crowd was, in fact, hilarious; but Dr. O'Grady understood that there are limits to the patience of the official guardians of law and order. The police—the fact is exemplified in their occasional dealings with the students of Trinity College—appreciate a joke as well as any men, and up to a certain point are tolerant of merriment. But it is possible to go too far, and there is a point at which fooling becomes objectionable. Dr. O'Grady took Mr. Billing by the arm.

"Come along," he said, "and let us have a drink of some sort, and something to eat. There's no reason why we shouldn't have something to eat. Doyle has a magnificent luncheon spread out in his hotel. Run in Doyle, and tell the cook to dish up the potatoes. Major, you bring Mrs. Gregg along with you. I'm sure Mrs. Gregg wants something to eat. Lord Alfred, I'm sorry we haven't a lady for you to take in, but Father McCormack will show you the way."

"If this business gets into the papers," said Lord Alfred, "the Freeman's Journal will make capital of it, and the Irish Times will say the Government must resign at once. Can't we square the reporters?"

"There aren't any," said Dr. O'Grady, "unless Gallagher's been taking notes. Come along."

The party, Doyle at the head of it, passed into the hotel. Sergeant Colgan turned and faced the crowd. His hand was on the baton at his side. His face and attitude were majestic.

"Get along home now, every one of yous," he said.

"Get along out of that!" said Constable Moriarty.

In twos and threes, in little groups of ten and twelve, silently obedient, the crowd slunk away. The statue of General John Regan was left looking down upon an empty market place. So the last word is spoken in the pleasant drama of Irish life. The policeman speaks it. "Get along home out of that, every one of you." So the curtain drops on our performances. In spite of our whirling words we bow to, in the end, the voice of authority.

THE END