“Is it that one present the address? Believe you me, doctor, if she does the Lord-Lieutenant won’t be inclined for giving us the pier. The look of her would turn a barrel of porter sour.”
“She’ll look quite different,” said Dr. O’Grady, “when the time comes. After all, Ford has to make the best of his opportunities like the rest of us. He can’t afford to allow his wife to scowl at the Lord-Lieutenant.”
“Was there no one else about the place, only her?” said Doyle.
“There were others, of course; but—the fact is, Doyle, if we got her back up at the start her husband would have written letters to Dublin Castle crabbing the whole show. Those fellows up there place extraordinary confidence in resident magistrates. They’d have been much more inclined to believe him than either you or me. If Ford was to set to work to spoil our show we’d probably not have got the Lord-Lieutenant down here at all. That’s why I was so keen on your getting the letter to her at once, and leaving her under the impression that you’d had it in your pocket for two days.”
“Devil the sign of believing any such thing there was about her when I left.”
“She may come to believe it later on,” said Dr. O’Grady, “when she and Ford have had time to talk the whole thing over together.”
The doctor’s servant came into the room while he spoke.
“Constable Moriarty is outside at the door,” she said, “and he’s wishing to speak with you. There’s a young woman along with him.”
“Mary Ellen, I expect,” said Dr. O’Grady.
“He’s upset in his mind about that same Mary Ellen,” said Doyle, “ever since he heard she was the niece of the General. It’s day and night he’s round the hotel whistling all sorts and——”