“Where did he get it?”
“I’m after hearing,” said Moriarty, “that it was the doctor taught it to him. But I don’t know is that true. You can’t believe the half of what you hear in this town.”
“What tune is it?”
“I don’t know that I could put a name to it this minute; but there’s no need for you to be uneasy, Mr. Gallagher. It’s not what you think it is.”
“I’m not thinking about it at all,” said Gallagher, very untruthfully.
“I’m glad of that,” said Moriarty. “I was afraid from the look of you as you came out of the office that you might be thinking it was ‘God Save the King.’ But it’s not.”
“I was thinking no such thing, for young Kerrigan knows and the doctor knows, and you know yourself, Constable Moriarty, that the people of this town is all good Nationalists, and that if the tune you’re after naming was to be played in the streets——”
“It’s not it, anyway,” said Moriarty, “so you may make your mind easy.”
Gallagher’s mind was very far from being easy, but he saw that he was not likely to get any more information out of Constable Moriarty. He crossed the road and entered the hotel. Doyle was in the commercial room trying to induce Mary Ellen to sweep the floor. It was in the commercial room that the meeting of the Committee was to be held that afternoon. Doyle wanted some, if not all, of the dirt removed from the floor beforehand.
“What tune’s that young Kerrigan’s playing?” said Gallagher.