Having once obtained the position, I spared neither pains nor money to make myself secure in it. My status and extensive practice as a doctor permitted of my playing the rôle of the generous patriot, and there was no subscription list on which my name did not figure in some capacity as the patriotic, political, charitable, or religious friend. The latter was not by any means the most infrequent, for religion of a certain type plays a very large part in Irish politics. Where money and the other arts failed, then I took to diplomacy. Year in, year out, I continued president of my camp, though always at election time asking to be allowed to retire in favour of some better and more deserving brother. Of course it was simply a case of “swearing I would ne’er consent, consenting.”
I was too useful to my brothers of “Camp 463,” now 204, to allow of their permitting me to retire to the ranks. If no other reason but the question of money came in, then this of itself alone would have been sufficient. When a delegate had to be despatched to conventions or gatherings elsewhere, none were more ready to start than I, while—more important still for the patriots—my bills for expenses, instead of being of the large and unjustifiable character usually associated with such proceedings, could only be got from me under protest, and with every manifestation of desire to save them outlay. Of course, this travelling about from centre to centre, this mixing with many men from many points, and the opportunities thus afforded for gaining information and opening up new sources of supply, admirably suited my purpose; and by taking advantage of the varied openings given me, I was enabled to extend my usefulness as a Secret Service agent to a very appreciable extent.
Matters, indeed, were satisfactorily situated for me at every point. As Senior Guardian of the Braidwood camp, I was in receipt of every document issued from head-quarters, and through me many of these found their way to Mr. Anderson on the English side of the water. My work in connection with these documents taxed all my powers of resource; and had it not been for the popular and trusted position which I held, I could have accomplished very little in regard to them. A stringent regulation of the Executive required that all documents—when not returned to head-quarters, as many had to be—should be burned in view of the camp, in order that the most perfect secrecy should be secured. It was, of course, impossible for me to retain the originals of those which had to be returned, and of them I could only keep copies. With those requiring destruction in the presence of my camp, I was enabled to act differently. Always prepared for the emergency, I was, by a sleight-of-hand performance, enabled to substitute old and unimportant documents for those which really should have been burnt, and to retain in my possession, and subsequently transmit to England, the originals of all the most important. I was, of course, shaking hands with danger and discovery at every turn, and yet so marvellous was my success that I not only escaped betrayal, but that which would undoubtedly have led to it, namely, suspicion.
To this end, I was much assisted by the confidence reposed in me by my fellow-officials, the Junior Guardians, who exhibited their trust to the extent of giving me possession of their keys of the strong-box, of which they held possession during their period of office. This contained all the papers of the camp; and with a view to its safety, one key was given to the Senior Guardian, and the other to the Junior Guardian, the locks being different in construction, so that the box could only be opened by the concurrence of both officials. Had I not been able to obtain the confidence of my Junior Guardians to the extent of possessing their keys, I could never have brought my designs to such a successful issue. Strangely enough, when I appeared in the witness-box at the Commission—for I was even then Senior Guardian of my Clan-na-Gael camp—I had both keys of our strong-box in my possession, which I jokingly offered to Mr. Houston as a memento of our strange and unlooked-for meeting.
XXV.
Meantime, events had been developing themselves in a strange and unlooked-for way. O’Donovan Rossa—speaking to the Irish in America through the columns of the Irish World—had advocated the establishment of a Skirmishing Fund in the following style:—
“Five thousand dollars will have to be collected before the campaign can be started. England will not know how or where she is to be struck. A successful stroke or any stroke that will do her 500,000 dollars’ worth of damage will bring us funds enough to carry on the work: and by working on incessantly and persistently, the patient dirt and powder shock will bring out enough perhaps to carry on the war.”
In the same issue of the Irish World, Patrick Ford, in the course of a commendatory article, said—
“What will this irregular warfare of our Irish Skirmishers effect? It will do this much. It will harass and annoy England. It will help to create her difficulty and hasten our opportunity. It will not only annoy England, but it will hush her too. This is what we look for from the Skirmishers. One hundred dollars expended on skirmishing may cause to England a loss of 100,000,000 dollars. That would be a damaging blow to the enemy; and what is to prevent the dealing one of three or four such blows every year?”