“It’s a long drive you have before you,” he said, “and I was thinking maybe you’d like something to comfort you on the way. It’s no more than a trifle, and not what you’d be accustomed to, but Clonmore is a backward place, and it’s the most thing of the kind there was in Jimmy O’Loughlin’s shop.”
Constable Cole rushed from the barrack bareheaded, just as the car was starting. He had Miss Blow’s brown paper parcel in his hand.
“You’ve forgotten your lunch, miss,” he shouted. “You’ll be wanting it before you’re back.”
He stowed the parcel in the well of the car, and was able as he did so to still further embarrass the unfortunate Constable Moriarty.
“By rights,” he whispered, “you ought to be sitting on the same side with her. It’s what she’d expect of you; and if you don’t do it when you get off to walk up Ballyglunin Hill, she’ll be in a mighty bad temper against you have her safe with the D. I. If you’re half a man, Moriarty, you’ll do it.”
There was a good deal of excitement in the town when Miss Blow drove off under the escort of Constable Moriarty. The news that Jimmy O’Loughlin’s car had been ordered for her and the constable spread so rapidly that by the time the start was actually made a small crowd had gathered in the street to see it. Afterwards, for more than an hour, men stopped casually at the barrack door, chatted on indifferent subjects with Sergeant Farrelly or Constable Cole, and then asked one or two leading questions about Miss Blow and her business. The police were very reticent. Sergeant Farrelly was an impressive man with a great deal of personal dignity. He knew that contemptible witticisms would be levelled at him and the force of which he was a member, if it came to be known that Miss Blow, a solitary young woman, had held up the police of Clonmore for the whole of one day and a part of the next. He dreaded the remarks of irreverent small boys if they heard how nearly he and his men had been forced to go in search of Dr. O’Grady’s body. He was haunted by a terrible fear that the story might get into the newspapers.
“There’s them,” he said to Constable Cole, “who’d be only too glad to get a handle against the police—fellows up in Dublin writing for low papers. Believe you me, it’ll be mighty unpleasant for us if you aren’t able to keep your mouth shut.”
Cole was no more willing than the sergeant to give information. The inquirers, baffled at the barrack, moved on to the bar of the hotel, and asked their questions there. Jimmy O’Loughlin had no information to give them. He did not know, any better than his customers, the reason for Miss Blow’s expedition; but he liked to pose as being well up in the whole business. He shook his head gravely, made cryptic remarks, parried questions with other questions, and at last, without in the least meaning to, conveyed the impression that Miss Blow, by some mysterious process of law, had been arrested for Dr. O’Grady’s debts. The opinion gained ground in the town as one after another of the inquirers emerged from the bar. Strong sympathy was felt with Miss Blow, and there was some talk of summoning a special meeting of the League to consider her case. It was generally agreed that a unanimous resolution would be appropriate, and that a series of questions might very well be asked in the House of Commons by one of the members for the county.