“I heard about that,” I said, “from one of the war correspondents, a man called Bland. You rather blocked the wires, and he couldn’t get his messages through.”
“It was of the utmost possible importance,” said Clithering, “that the Prime Minister should thoroughly understand the situation. Our original idea was that the appearance of large bodies of troops in the streets would overawe—”
“They weren’t overawing any one,” I said.
“So I saw. So I saw yesterday afternoon. I telegraphed at once. I gave it as my opinion that the troops, so far from overawing, were exasperating the populace. I suggested—I’m sure you’ll agree with me that the suggestion was wise—in fact I urged very strongly that the troops should be kept out of sight to-day—under arms and ready for emergencies—but out of sight. I am in great hopes that the people will settle down quietly. Now, what do you think, Lord Kilmore?”
“They’ll be quite quiet,” I said, “if you let them hold their meeting.”
“Oh, but that’s impossible,” said Clithering. “I quite agree with the Prime Minister there. Any sign of weakness on the part of the Government at the present crisis would be fatal, absolutely fatal. The Belfast people must understand that they cannot be allowed to defy the law.”
“Then you’d better trot out your soldiers again, all you’ve got.”
Clithering did not seem at all pleased with this suggestion.
“We shall rely upon the police,” he said, “to put a stop to the meeting. I do not anticipate that there will be any organized—”