“I wash my hands of the whole business,” said the Major.
“You can wash them afterwards,” said Dr. O’Grady, “but at present you’ll stand in with the rest of us. After the way the Lord-Lieutenant has treated us over the statue he’ll have to give us a rattling good pier. He won’t be able to refuse. Oh, hang it! Here’s Mrs. Gregg again.”
Mrs. Gregg had settled Mary Ellen’s shawl. She had spoken sternly, with an authority borrowed from her husband’s official position, to Sergeant Colgan. She was filled with curiosity and excitement.
“Someone must get her out of this,” said Dr. O’Grady. “I can’t settle things with her babbling at me.
“If there was a chance that she’d be wanting a drink,” said Doyle, “but them ones wouldn’t.”
“Mrs. Gregg,” said Dr. O’Grady, “excuse my mentioning it; but there are three hooks in the back of your blouse that aren’t fastened. It’s an awfully nice blouse, but as you have it on at present it’s rather—rather—well dégagé.”
“I started in such a hurry,” said Mrs. Gregg. “The moment I heard——”
“If you go into the hotel,” said Dr. O’Grady, “you’ll find a looking-glass. You’ll be able to inspect the bouquet too. It’s in a jug of water under the counter in——— You take her, Father McCormack, and find the bouquet for her.”
Father McCormack was not listening. He was looking at a large motor-car which had just drawn up at the far end of the street, leading into the square.
“It’s him after all,” he said.