Our porter, meanwhile, was ploughing through the crowd ahead of us like a ship through the sea, swinging a bag in either hand, quite regardless of the shins of the passers-by, and we were hard put to it to keep him in sight. It was farther than I had thought, but presently I saw a tall column looming ahead which I recognised as the Nelson Pillar, and I assured Betty that we were nearly there, for I knew that our hotel was almost opposite the Pillar. Our porter, however, crossed a broad street, which I was sure must be Sackville Street, without pausing, and continued at top speed straight ahead. We followed him for some moments; but the street grew steadily darker and more deserted, and finally I sprinted ahead and stopped him.
"Look here," I said. "We don't want to keep on walking all night. How much farther is the hotel?"
He set down the bags and mopped his dripping face with his sleeve.
"I'm not quite sure, sir," he said, looking about him.
"I don't believe it is up this way at all," I protested. "It's back there on Sackville Street."
"It is, sir," he agreed cheerfully, and picked up the bags again and started back.
"That is Sackville Street, isn't it?" I asked.
"Sure, I don't know, sir."
"Don't know?" I echoed, and stared at him. "Don't you know where the hotel is?"
"You see, sir, I'm a stranger in Dublin, like yourself," he explained.