“The General’s dead anyway,” said Doyle, “so that’s suitable enough.”
“‘Address—The Monumental Studio, Michael Angelo House, Great Brunswick. Street, Dublin,’” read Father McCormack. “That’ll be where your nephew lives, Mr. Doyle?”
“It’s where he has his works,” said Doyle. “He lives down near Sandymount.”
“‘Celtic Crosses, Obelisks and every kind of Monument supplied at the shortest notice,’” said Father McCormack, still reading from the card. “‘Family Vaults decorated. Inscriptions Cut. Estimates Free. Low Prices’.”
“I don’t see that we could possibly do better than that,” said Dr. O’Grady.
“Even Doyle’s nephew can’t make a statue in ten days,” said the Major.
“He says ‘shortest notice’ on his card. You ought to believe the man, Major, until you’ve some evidence that he’s a liar.”
“I don’t care what he says,” said the Major. “He can’t make a statue in ten days.”
“We’ll get to that point in a minute,” said Dr. O’Grady. “The first thing we have to decide is whether Mr. Aloysius Doyle is a suitable man to be entrusted with the work.”
“There’s no other tenders before us,” said Father McCormack, “so I suppose we may as well——”