He displayed no emotion when he saw Mary Drennan. She looked at him, and once more shook her head.
“Are you sure?” said Chalmers. “Quite sure?”
“I am sure,” she said. “He is not the man I saw.”
“Remove him,” said Chalmers.
Murnihan stood erect for a moment before he turned to follow the sergeant. With hand raised to the salute he made profession of the faith that was in him:
“Up the rebels!” he said. “Up Sinn Fein! God save Ireland!”
Denis Ryan was led in and set in the appointed place. He stood there trembling. His face was deadly pale. The fingers of his hands twitched. His head was bowed. Only once did he raise his eyes and let them rest for a moment on Mary’s face. It was as if he was trying to convey some message to her, to make her understand something which he dared not say.
She looked at him steadily. Her face had been white before. Now colour, like a blush, covered her cheeks. Chalmers leaned forward eagerly, waiting for her to speak or give some sign. Major Whiteley tapped his fingers nervously on the table before him.
“That is not the man,” said Mary Drennan.
“Look again,” said Chalmers. “Make no mistake.”