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CONTENTS
| CHAPTER | PAGE | |
| I. | 47—Agent (S. L.) | [1] |
| Called up—Another acquaintance—Below thesurface—Through a window. | ||
| II. | We Cross to Dublin (J. M. N.) | [10] |
| On board—After curfew—We arrive. | ||
| III. | I come across 47 (S. L.) | [17] |
| Stephen’s Green—On the stroke—Cumann namBan—Good advice. | ||
| IV. | Finding a Roof (J. M. N.) | [27] |
| Mrs. Slaney—We take a flat—Au revoir. | ||
| V. | We settle in (J. M. N.) | [34] |
| Mrs. Slaney indignant—We dine. | ||
| VI. | We make Acquaintances (J. M. N., S. L.) | [38] |
| A Beau Brummell—Signs of the times—An introduction—Moneyfor nothing—A tram ride. | ||
| VII. | The Birth of Sinn Fein (S. L.) | [48] |
| The beginning—The Celtic revival—The Phœnix—Capitalversus Labour—Murder gang—Badto worse—Black-and-Tans—Disturbed areas—Reprisal. | ||
| VIII. | Autumn wears out (S. L.) | [66] |
| The game of bluff—Passers-by—Wanted men—Templemore—Ourmutual friend—Hard at work—Alonely life. | ||
| IX. | The Hunger Strike (S. L.) | [81] |
| The great fast—A Dublin funeral—The nightwatch—A mysterious visitor—Kevin Barry—Novemberends. | ||
| X. | Bloody Sunday (J. M. N.) | [94] |
| Terrible news—A Sunday evening—Unhonouredand unsung. | ||
| XI. | Aftermath (S. L.) | [101] |
| In full cry—In the crowd—A chance meeting. | ||
| XII. | Visit to a Top Story (J. M. N.) | [109] |
| Watching and waiting—Money for nothing—Aurevoir. | ||
| XIII. | From the Housetop (S. L., J. M. N.) | [116] |
| The Central Hotel—A brief haven—A top story—Downbelow—Lies, all lies!—Loyalist and Republican—Thefirst raid—England’s market garden. | ||
| XIV. | An At Home (J. M. N.) | [133] |
| A Christmas box—Old Meg—Curlewed—A Unionist. | ||
| XV. | Height of the Terror (S. L.) | [142] |
| Day by day—Building a Republic—PresidentDe Valera—The pendulum—Irish Bulletin—Reprisals—Thegods must laugh. | ||
| XVI. | The Minister of Propaganda (J. M. N.) | [156] |
| A piece of news—An innocent man—Real dotes. | ||
| XVII. | Capture of a Cabinet Minister (J. M. N.) | [162] |
| Mrs. Slaney is uneasy—Open, the military!—Harbouringrebels—His tea. | ||
| XVIII. | Winter wears out (S. L.) | [170] |
| Spreading the news—A Republican—Propaganda—Waste!Waste!—Day and night—The Cityambushes. | ||
| XIX. | Mrs. O’Grady’s Forebodings (J. M. N.) | [183] |
| Mrs. O’Grady is prudent—Enter Mrs. Slaney. | ||
| XX. | To Dublin Castle (S. L.) | [189] |
| Raided again—A new acquaintance—A find—Alate call—The journey done. | ||
| XXI. | Inside the Castle (S. L.) | [200] |
| To bed—The Auxiliary at home—Into the fire—Thirteenat table—An outing. | ||
| XXII. | Lost: A Husband (J. M. N.) | [211] |
| A strained situation—Gelignite!—Next morning—DublinCastle—In the maze—Room 13—FCompany—Found. | ||
| XXIII. | Last Weeks of War (S. L.) | [229] |
| Spring and peace—The Customs House—TheAuxiliary Cadets—A brisk affair—Ballykinler—Underthe whip—Mrs. Slaney indignant. | ||
| XXIV. | The Coming of Summer (S. L.) | [244] |
| Corner-boys—Hands up—Erskine Childers—Thephantom army—In Phœnix Park—Theold order changeth. | ||
| XXV. | The Eve of Peace (J. M. N.) | [257] |
| Ambushed—Only another ambush—Patriots—Thefinal raid—To rack and ruin. | ||
| XXVI. | The Twelfth of July (S. L.) | [268] |
| North and South—King William—The greatday—The trysting-ground—Patches of splendour. | ||
| XXVII. | Truce (S. L.) | [279] |
| Changed times—The final settlement—Thelast of 47—Dail Eireann—Leave them there. | ||
| XXVIII. | Last of Ireland (J. M. N.) | [291] |
| An avatar—Good-bye to Ireland. | ||
| XXIX. | Looking Back (S. L.) | [297] |
| Hag-ridden—Two alternatives—The hopefulpresent. |
IRELAND IN TRAVAIL
CHAPTER I
47—AGENT
In the wonderful August weather of 1920, my wife and I were in our London flat sighing for cooler places. The season had come to an end with less than its usual glory, and for days taxis and growlers, topheavy with luggage, had been carrying fleeing Londoners to country and to sea. The holidays had begun; but England, still limping from the late war, had lost the holiday spirit: indeed the world was restless as if it had come through painful convulsions to kick spasmodically for a while. We were restless too.
Ireland was one of the world’s sores. It was near at hand. Should we go and see for ourselves? The middle of August had come, and we could not make up our minds.
On the hottest of those mornings I wandered into Hyde Park, and where the riders turn their horses about, on the very last chair of the row, leaning forward, rubbing his chin on his stick, I came across 47—Agent of the secret service. He had seen me coming along, and patted the next seat in invitation as if we had met yesterday.