The Search Party

by George A. Birmingham

“Where is it?” said Mr. Goddard.

“The mistress is giving it a bit of a rinse the way it’ll be clean for you; and I came back to tell you that Mr. Moriarty from the barrack below is at the door, and he says he wants to see you. I’m thinking it’s a telegram he has in his hand.”

Mr. Goddard rose. “Get a cloth,” he said, “if there is a cloth in the house——”

“Sure there is,” murmured Bridgy, “there’s dozens.”

“And mop up that abominable mess. Take the chop down to the kitchen and heat it up again. Get another bottle of porter; and for heaven’s sake let me have a meal I can eat when I come back.”

He went out and discovered Constable Moriarty, who had, as Bridgy observed, a telegram in his hand.

“It came, sir,” said the constable, “and you just after leaving Ballymoy with the young lady. The sergeant beyond said I’d better bring it with me the way you’d get it at once, in case it might be important.”

Mr. Goddard opened it. “From Inspector-General, Dublin Castle,” he read. “Party of Members of Parliament arrive Clonmore to-morrow, noon, from Dublin. On tour. Provide vehicles to meet train. Show every attention. Five in party.”

“Damn it!” said Mr. Goddard.

Every one in Ireland had heard of the tour of the Members of Parliament. It was well advertised by means of paragraphs in all the daily papers, so well advertised that an exaggerated opinion was formed in Ireland of the importance of the party. It was generally believed—and the language of the newspapers fostered the delusion—that at least two Cabinet Ministers were coming, ten or twelve influential politicians, and that more than the usual number of journalists would be in attendance. It was felt that the tour offered a unique opportunity for producing a lasting effect on English public opinion. There was, consequently, a severe struggle in Dublin among the numerous people who wanted to conduct the strangers round Ireland. Not only all the heads of all the Boards and Departments, but all the Presidents and Secretaries of the Leagues and Associations unconnected with the Government were anxious to secure the honour. In the end it fell to a high official, who, in order to obtain it, made what was felt to be an unfair use of the influence he possessed in England. When he found at the last moment that the party consisted after all of only two Members of Parliament, and they men of inferior calibre and no real standing, he was disgusted and withdrew his offer of a motor car. When he found, further, that there were to be no journalists, and that the Members of Parliament were to be accompanied only by three women, two wives and one aunt, he lost his temper and offered the party to any League which liked to apply for it. In the end he made over his whole responsibility to the police. The party went from place to place in the usual way. It was met at railway stations by polite inspectors of police, allowed to ask questions of the people who could be relied upon to supply the proper answers, and given every opportunity of seeing with its own eyes the things that inquiring Englishmen ought to see. The Members enjoyed themselves immensely, and insisted on prolonging their tour after all the places originally marked out for them had been visited. Then the Inspector-General of Police, who was getting tired of making arrangements for them, sent them to Clonmore. It was a very distant place, the terminus of the line of railway on which it stood, and it was supposed that no harm could possibly come of their visiting it. They were told to drive from Clonmore round a particularly desolate coast, to stop at hotels which were quite abominable, and to pick up another railway fifty miles off. The Inspector-General reckoned that the trip would take at least four days, and that at the end of it the party would have had enough of Ireland. In any case he would not be bothered with them again until they reached the fifty miles distant railway station.