He found a jaunting car, and bargained with the jarvey to take him to the prison.
“They’re hanging Dennis O’Brien,” said the man. “God’s curse on them!”
All round the prison were strong forces of troops. Several armoured cars were drawn up, and a search-light was turned on a dense black crowd of people waiting there through the night, for the coming of dawn. They were mostly women and young girls, with shawls over their heads. Some bareheaded, some well-dressed with hats of the latest style. They were of all classes and ages, and with them were some priests who moved about among them, leading the recitation of the Rosary.
Again and again, with endless repetition, the crowd, kneeling on the cobble-stones, murmured their prayer:
Hail, Mary, full of grace,
The Lord is with thee,
. . . . .
. . . . .
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
Pray for us sinners