“From Chief Secretary, Dublin Castle. Please explain first wire. Unintelligible here.”
This was followed immediately by one from Belfast.
“Inspector-General supposes mistake in transmission of wire. Kindly repeat.”
Mr. Goddard wrote out two replies.
“To Chief Secretary, Dublin Castle. Members of Parliament completely lost during night. Deeply regret occurrence. Goddard, District Inspector.”
“To Inspector-General of Police, Belfast. First message probably correctly transmitted. Members of Parliament cannot be found. Goddard, District Inspector.”
Susy Lizzie, working at high speed, got these messages despatched and went on with those to Dublin, Kingstown, Rosslare, and Queenstown. Then Mr. Goddard handed her a bundle of forms which contained his appeals to the police at the railway stations. He felt that he had done all that could be done to discover the escaped gentlemen. It is impossible, as Mr. Goddard knew, to get out of Ireland without going either to Great Britain or America. Derry and Queenstown were the ports of exit westwards. If, as was far more likely, the fugitives had made a rush for England or Scotland, he would get news of them at one of the other places. It was possible, of course, that they were still loitering about Ireland. In that case he would hear of them from one of his railway stations. Even the most energetic Member of Parliament would not be likely to do more than fifty miles on his bicycle over west of Ireland roads, and Mr. Sanders was afflicted with a weak heart.
“Isn’t there some way of getting from the hotel to the shop,” said Mr. Goddard, “without going out into the street? I want to speak to your uncle.”
“There is surely,” said Susy Lizzie. “If you step across to the grocery counter, the young gentleman that’s there will show you the door.”