“He’s all right,” said Gallagher. “Don’t I tell you he’s arranging with the American gentleman?”
“He may be getting us all into some mess or other. You never know what the doctor will be at. He’s so infernally imaginative.”
Mr. Billing and Dr. O’Grady had left the door of the hotel. They were standing together in the middle of the square almost opposite the police barrack. Major Kent hurried towards them. Doyle and Gallagher followed him slowly.
“What’s this talk about a statue?” said Doyle. “Didn’t I tell you before that I’d agree to no statue? Isn’t the rates high enough already without that? And don’t I have to pay more of them than any other man in the town?”
“There’ll be no addition to the rates,” said Gallagher. “The way the doctor was fixing it up it’ll be the American gentleman that’ll pay for the statue. He’s just after saying he will, and the Urban District Council is to pass a vote of thanks to him, which is what they’ll be glad to do, and I’ll draw it up myself.”
“Of course,” said Doyle, slightly mollified, “if he pays the cost of it there’ll be no objection to the statue. But are you sure now that he’s fit? Statues cost a deal.”
“Look at the motor-car he came in,” said Gallagher.
The motor seemed conclusive evidence. It was a very splendid vehicle. Doyle hurried forward. A stranger who proposed to spend large sums of money in the town deserved to be treated with every kind of politeness and respect. A statue still struck Doyle as an exceedingly useless thing; but he was not without hope that Mr. Billing might be persuaded to give his money, if he really wanted to give money, to some more sensible object.
Dr. O’Grady introduced Major Kent to Mr. Billing.
“Our principal resident gentleman,” he said, “a J. P. and a strong Unionist. Gallagher, of course, is a Home Ruler. But these little political differences of opinion don’t really matter. They’re both equally keen on doing their duty to the memory of the great General.”