“An armed guard. You couldn’t expect me to go about without an armed guard. Every Shinner in Dublin is at my heels.”
“My dear fellow, didn’t it strike you that by bringing an armed guard clattering into the hall you would be likely to turn the Sinn Fein attention to us?”
Our friend laid a soothing hand on 47’s wife.
“Have you been out much since the affair?” she asked abruptly.
“Every day and every night. No peace. Nothing like that about me. But it doesn’t matter, for I can’t sleep. My God! and I was told this was money for nothing! Money for nothing, and the life filled a man full of joy!”
“Nerves! By Gad, nerves! Hear her.” He pivoted round towards us, showed he had recognised us, and smiling, said, “How are you?” He came across and laid a hand on my shoulder. He was the type of man who touches women. Then he jerked round again to 47’s wife.
“Pitchforked in, I was. Never knew a thing. Didn’t know enough to keep my mouth shut, or to change my clothes when I went down the slums. Looked on all men as brothers. Thought they loved me as I loved them. I haven’t slept for months. Let me talk. Let me get it off my chest. I’m all for peace, I am. I always have been, and somehow I always seem to get flung into some beastly mess. Some one said, ‘Come and chase Shinners, old bean.’ And here I am, but the beastly Shinner’s always chasing me. Every time I go out some one follows me, sometimes a man, sometimes a woman. The life’s killing me. Watkins--you know old Watkins--he and I got digs together at last, and took it in turn to keep watch while the other slept. I got wind up in case he dropped off. I didn’t dare go to bed without my guns in case some one came in, and I always had the feeling that I’d shoot Watkins by mistake some night, or get the old woman in the stomach when she came in with the hot water in the morning.”
“Hush! That’s it. Hush! If I don’t talk, I’ll go mad! None of the fellows at the Central will talk. We’re all in the Central Hotel now. They hang in corners brooding on their sorrows. They don’t care about mine. The chaps at the Castle don’t talk. They don’t know what it is to be out and alone.”
“Splendid! What I’m here for!” our friend exclaimed. “I’ll be killed next! Mark my words. No; don’t let’s talk of death. It makes me feel all hot and bothered.”