"In God's name let us fight, we've been waiting long enough."
"The Irish Volunteers might not come out with us. Are you still ready?"
"What matter? We can put up a good fight."
"Then in God's name hold yourself ready. The Day is very near."
To the eternal credit of the Irish Citizen Army be it recorded that only one man shirked that night.
Then on top of this glorious happening came the attempted raid on Liberty Hall by the police. That morning I was in the office with my father when a man came from the printer's shop and said, "Mr. Connolly, you're wanted downstairs." My father went downstairs. About five minutes later he came into the office again, took down a carbine, loaded it and filled his pockets with cartridges.
"What is it?" I asked. "Can I do anything?"
"Stay here, I'll need you," said my father and he left the office again. He was gone about five minutes when the door was banged open and the Countess de Markievicz burst into the office.
"Where's Mr. Connolly?" she demanded excitedly. "Where's Mr. Connolly? They're raiding the Gaelic press—the place is surrounded with soldiers."
"He left here five minutes ago," I said. "He took his carbine with him and told me to remain here as he would need me."