THE RED HAND 
 OF ULSTER 
 
 CTOV. OF CAOF. LIBRARY. tOS ANGELES
 
 UNIFORM EDITION of the WORKS of 
 
 G. A. BIRMINGHAM 
 
 Each, net $1.20 
 
 LALAGE'S LOVERS 
 SPANISH GOLD 
 THE SEARCH PARTY 
 THE SIMPKINS PLOT 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 PRISCILLA'S SPIES 
 
 THE RED HAND 
 OF ULSTER 
 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 NEW YORK
 
 THE RED HAND 
 OF ULSTER 
 
 BY 
 
 G. A. BIRMINGHAM 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SPANISH GOLD," " THE MAJOR'S NIECE. 
 "PRISCILLA'S SPIES," ETC. 
 
 
 
 HODDER & STOUGHTON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
 
 Copyright, 1912, 
 By George H. Doran Company
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 IN a book of this kind some of the characters are 
 necessarily placed in the positions occupied by liv- 
 ing men; but no character is in any way copied 
 from life, and no character must be taken as repre- 
 senting any real person. Nor must the opinions of 
 Lord Kilmore of Errigal, the imaginary narrator of 
 the tale, be regarded as those of the Author. 
 
 G. A. B. 
 
 2130320
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 BY 
 LORD KILMORE OF ERRIGAL 
 
 THE events recorded in this chapter and the next did 
 not fall under my own observation. I derived my 
 knowledge of them from various sources, chiefly from 
 conversations with Bob Power, who had, as will ap- 
 pear, first-hand knowledge. In the third chapter I 
 begin my own personal narrative of the events which 
 led up to the final struggle of Ulster against Home 
 Rule and of the struggle itself. Accidents of one kind 
 or another, the accidents of the situation of Kilmore 
 Castle, the accident of Bob Power's connection with 
 my daughter Marion, the accidents of my social po- 
 sition and personal tastes, have placed me in a position 
 to give a very full account of what actually happened. 
 The first two chapters of this book will therefore be 
 written in the impersonal manner of the ordinary his- 
 tory; I myself occupying the position of unseen spec- 
 tator. The rest of the book is largely founded upon 
 the diary which I actually kept.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IT was in 1908 that Joseph Peterson Conroy burst 
 upon London in the full magnificence of his 
 astounding wealth. English society was, and had been 
 for many years, accustomed to the irruption of mil- 
 lionaires, American or South African. Our aristocracy 
 has learnt to pay these potentates the respect which is 
 their due. Well-born men and women trot along Park 
 Lane in obedience to the hooting calls of motor horns. 
 No one considers himself degraded by grovelling before 
 a plutocrat. 
 
 It has been for some time difficult to startle London 
 by a display of mere wealth. Men respect more than 
 ever fortunes which are reckoned in millions, though 
 they have become too common to amaze. But Joseph 
 Peterson Conroy, when he came, excited a great deal 
 of interest. In the first place his income was enormous, 
 larger, it was said, than the income of any other living 
 man. In the next place he spent it very splendidly. 
 There were no entertainments given in London during 
 the years 1909, 1910, and 1911, equal in extravagance 
 to those which Conroy gave. He outdid the " freak 
 dinners " of New York. He invented freak dinners 
 of his own. His horses animals which he bought 
 at enormous prices won the great races. His yachts 
 
 I
 
 2 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 flew the white ensign of the Royal Yacht Squadron. 
 His gifts to fashionable charities were princely. Eng- 
 lish society fell at his feet and worshipped him. The 
 most exclusive clubs were honoured by his desire of 
 membership. Women whose fathers and husbands 
 bore famous names were proud to boast of his friend- 
 ship. 
 
 It cannot be said that Conroy abused either his po- 
 sition or his opportunities. He had won his great wealth 
 honestly that is to say without robbing any one ex- 
 cept other robbers, and only robbing them in ways 
 permitted by American law. He used what he had 
 won honourably enough. He neither bought the fa- 
 vours of the women who thronged his entertainments ; 
 nor degraded, more than was necessary, the men who 
 sought benefits from him. For a time, for nearly four 
 years, he thoroughly enjoyed himself, exulting with 
 boyish delight in his own splendour. Then he began 
 to get restless. The things he did, the people he knew, 
 ceased to interest him. It was early in 1911 that the 
 crisis came; and before the season of that year was 
 over Conroy had disappeared from London. His name 
 still appeared occasionally in the columns which the 
 newspapers devote to fashionable intelligence. But 
 the house in Park Lane the scene of many magnifi- 
 cent entertainments was sold. The dinner parties, 
 balls and card parties ceased ; and Conroy entered upon 
 what must have been the most exciting period of his 
 life. 
 
 Bob Power no one ever called him Robert be- 
 longed to an old and respected Irish family, being a 
 younger son of General Power of Kilfenora. He was
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 3 
 
 educated at Harrow and afterwards at Trinity College. 
 He was called to the Irish bar and might have achieved 
 in time the comfortable mediocrity of a County Court 
 judgeship if he had not become Conroy's private sec- 
 retary. The post was secured for him by an uncle 
 who had known Conroy in New York in the days 
 before he became a millionaire, while it was still possi- 
 ble for an ordinary man to do him a favour. Bob ac- 
 cepted the post because everybody said he would be a 
 fool to refuse it. He did not much like writing letters. 
 The making out of schemes for the arrangements of 
 Conroy's guests at the more formal dinner parties wor- 
 ried him. The general supervision of the upper serv- 
 ants was no delight to him. But he did all these things 
 fairly well, and his unfailing good spirits carried him 
 safely through periods of very tiresome duty. He be- 
 came, in spite of the twenty-five years' difference of age 
 between him and his patron, the intimate friend of 
 Joseph Peterson Conroy. 
 
 It was to Bob that Conroy confided the fact that 
 he was tired of the life of a leader of English society. 
 The two men were sitting together in the smoking room 
 at one o'clock in the morning after one of Conroy's 
 most magnificent entertainments. 
 
 " I'm damned well sick of all this," said Conroy sud- 
 denly. 
 
 "So am I/' said Bob. 
 
 Bob Power was a man of adventurous disposition. 
 He had a reputation in Connacht as a singularly bold 
 rider to hounds. The story of his singlehanded cruise 
 round Ireland in a ten tonner will be told among yachts- 
 men until his son does something more extravagantly
 
 4 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 idiotic. The London season always bored him. The 
 atmosphere of Conroy's house in Park Lane stifled 
 him. 
 
 " Is there any one thing left in this rotten old world," 
 said Conroy, " that's worth doing ? " 
 
 In Bob's opinion there were several things very 
 well worth doing. He suggested one of them at once. 
 
 " Let's get out the Finola," he said, " and go for a 
 cruise. We've never done the South Sea Islands." 
 
 The Finola was the largest of Conroy's yachts, a 
 handsome vessel of something over a thousand tons. 
 
 " Cruising in the Finola" said Conroy, " is no earthly 
 good to me. What I want is something that will put 
 me into a nervous sweat, the same as I was when I 
 was up against Ikenstein and the railway bosses. My 
 nerves were like damned fiddle strings for a fortnight 
 when I didn't know whether I was going to come out 
 a pauper or the owner of the biggest pile mortal man 
 ever handled." 
 
 Bob knew nothing of Ikenstein or the methods by 
 which the pile had been wrested from him and his com- 
 panions, but he did know the sensations which Con- 
 roy described. He, himself, arrived at them by hang- 
 ing on to a sea anchor in a gale of wind off the Galway 
 coast, or pushing a vicious horse at a nasty jump. 
 Nervous sweat, stretched nerves and complete uncer- 
 tainty about the immediate future afford the same de- 
 light however you get at them. He sympathized with 
 Conroy. 
 
 " You might fit out a ship or two and try exploring 
 round the South Pole," Bob said. "They've got the 
 thing itself of course, but there must be lots of places 
 still undiscovered in the neighbourhood. I should
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 5 
 
 think that hummocking along over the ice floes in a dog 
 sledge must be pretty thrilling." 
 
 Conroy sighed. 
 
 " I'm too fat," he said, " and I'm too darned soft. 
 The kind of life I've led for the last four years isn't 
 good training for camping out on icebergs and feeding 
 on whale's blubber." 
 
 Bob smiled. Conroy was a very fat man. A camp- 
 ing party on an iceberg would be likely to end in some 
 whale eating his blubber. 
 
 " I didn't mean you to go yourself," said Bob. 
 
 " Oh ! I see. I'm to fit out the expedition and you 
 are to go in command. I don't quite see where the 
 fun would come in for me. It wouldn't excite me any 
 to hear of your shooting Esquimaux and penguins. 
 I shouldn't care enough whether you lived or were 
 froze to get any excitement out of a show of that 
 kind." 
 
 " We'd call it ' The Joseph P. Conroy Expedition," 
 said Bob ; " and the newspapers " 
 
 " Thanks. But I'm pretty well fed up with news- 
 paper tosh. The press has boosted me ever since I 
 landed in this country, and I'd just as soon they stopped 
 now as started fresh." 
 
 Bob relinquished the idea of a Polar expedition with 
 a sigh. 
 
 It was Conroy himself who made the next sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 " If politics weren't such a rotten game " 
 
 Bob did not feel attracted to political life ; but he was 
 loyal to his patron. 
 
 " dithering," he said, " was talking to me to-night. 
 You know the man I mean, Sir Samuel Clithering.
 
 6 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 He's not in the Cabinet, but he's what I'd call a pretty 
 intimate hanger on ; does odd jobs for the Prime Min- 
 ister. He said the interest of political life was ab- 
 sorbing." 
 
 " I shouldn't care for it," said Conroy. " After all, 
 what would it be worth to me? There's nothing for 
 me to gain, and I don't see how I could lose anything. 
 It would be like playing bridge for counters. They 
 might make me a lord, of course. A title is about 
 the only thing I haven't got, but then I don't want it." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said Bob. " I merely 
 mentioned politics because Dithering said " 
 
 " Besides," said Conroy, " it wouldn't be my politics. 
 England isn't my country." 
 
 " It would be rather exciting," said Bob, " to run a 
 revolution somewhere. There are lots of small states, 
 in the Balkans, you know, which could be turned in- 
 side out and upside down by a man with the amount 
 of money you have." 
 
 " There's something in that notion," said Conroy. 
 " Get a map, will you ? " 
 
 Bob Power did not want to go wandering round the 
 house at half-past one o'clock in the morning looking 
 for a map of the Balkan States. It seemed to him 
 that the idea the financing of a revolution was of 
 course a joke might be worked out with reference 
 to some country nearer at hand, the geographical con- 
 ditions of which would be sufficiently well known with- 
 out the aid of a map. 
 
 "Why not try Ireland?" he said. 
 
 Then a very curious thing happened. Conroy's ap- 
 pearance, not merely his expression but his actual fea- 
 tures seemed to change. Instead of the shrewd face
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 7 
 
 of a successful American financier Bob Power saw 
 the face of an Irish peasant. He was perfectly fa- 
 miliar with the type. It was one which he had known 
 all his life. He knew it at its best, expressive of lofty 
 idealisms and fantastic dreams of things beyond this 
 world's experience. He knew it at its worst too, when 
 narrow cunning and unquenchable bitterness transform 
 it. The change passed over Conroy's face and then 
 quickly passed away again. 
 
 " By God ! " said Conroy, " it's a great notion. To 
 buck against the British Lion ! " 
 
 Bob remembered the things which he had heard and 
 half heeded about Conroy's ancestry. In 1850 another 
 Conroy, a broken peasant, the victim of evil fate and 
 gross injustice, had left Ireland in an emigrant ship 
 with a ragged wife and four half starved children cling- 
 ing to him, with an unquenchable hatred of England 
 in his heart. The hate, it appeared, had lived on in 
 his son, had broken out again in a grandson, dominating 
 the cynical cosmopolitanism of the financial magnate. 
 Bob was vaguely uneasy. He did not like the expres- 
 sion he had seen on Conroy's face. He did not like the 
 tone in which he spoke. But it was obviously absurd 
 to suppose that any one could take seriously the idea 
 of financing an Irish revolution. 
 
 Then Conroy began to talk about Ireland. He 
 knew, it appeared, a great deal about the history of 
 the country up to a certain point. He had a tradi- 
 tional knowledge of the horrors of the famine period. 
 He was intimately acquainted with the details of the 
 Fenian movement. Either he or his father had been 
 a member of the Clan na Gael. He understood the 
 Parnell struggle for Home Rule. But with the fall
 
 8 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 of Parnell his knowledge stopped abruptly. Of all that 
 happened after that he knew nothing. He supposed 
 that the later Irish leaders had inherited the traditions 
 of Mitchel, O'Leary, Davitt and the others. Bob 
 laughed at him. 
 
 "If you're thinking of buying guns for the Nation- 
 alists," he said, " you may save your money. They 
 wouldn't use them if they had arsenals full. They're 
 quite the most loyal men there are nowadays. Why 
 wouldn't they? They've got most of what they want 
 and dithering told me the Home Rule Bill was going 
 to knit their hearts to the Empire. Awful rot, of 
 course, but his very words." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Conroy. 
 
 Bob laughed again. He had all the contempt com- 
 mon in his class for those of his fellow-countrymen 
 who professed to be Nationalists. But he had rather 
 more intelligence than most Irish gentlemen. He quite 
 realized the absurdity of supposing that the Irish Par- 
 liamentary party consisted of men who had in them 
 the makings of rebels. 
 
 " Read their speeches," he said. " Since this talk 
 of Home Rule began they've been cracking up the 
 glories of the British Empire like like the Primrose 
 League." 
 
 " To-morrow morning," said Conroy, " you'll fetch 
 me along all the books and pamphlets you can lay hands 
 on dealing with the present state of the Irish ques- 
 tion." 
 
 " I want a small cart," said Bob. 
 
 " Get a four-horse waggon, if you like," said Con- 
 roy.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 FOR nearly a week Conroy remained shut up in his 
 study. Bob was kept busy. He spent a good deal 
 of time in writing plausible explanations of Conroy's 
 failure to keep his social engagements. He ransacked 
 the shelves of booksellers for works dealing with con- 
 temporary Irish politics. He harried the managers of 
 press-cutting companies for newspaper reports of 
 speeches on Home Rule. These were things for which 
 there was little or no demand, and the press-cutting 
 people resented being asked for them. He even in- 
 terviewed political leaders. These gentlemen received 
 him coldly at first, suspecting from his appearance that 
 he wanted to get a chance of earning 400 a year as a 
 member of Parliament, and hoped to persuade them 
 to find him a constituency. When they discovered that 
 he was the private secretary of a famous millionaire 
 their manner changed and they explained the policies 
 of their various parties in such ways as seemed likely 
 to draw large cheques from Conroy. 
 
 Bob reported what they said, summarized the letters 
 of the disappointed hostesses, and piled Conroy's table 
 with books, pamphlets, and newspaper cuttings. The 
 whole business bored and worried him. The idea that 
 Conroy actually contemplated organizing a rebellion in 
 Ireland never crossed his mind. He hoped that the 
 political enthusiasm of his patron would die away as 
 quickly as it had sprung up. It was therefore a sur- 
 
 9
 
 io THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 prise to him when, after a few weeks' hard reading, 
 Conroy announced his decision. 
 
 " I'm going into this business," he said. 
 
 "Politics?" said Bob. 
 
 " Politics be damned ! What I'm out for is a revolu- 
 tion." 
 
 "You can't do it," said Bob. "I told you at the 
 start that those fellows won't fight. They haven't it in 
 them to stand up and be shot at." 
 
 " I'm thinking of the other fellows," said Conroy. 
 
 "What other fellows?" he asked. 
 
 " Belfast," said Conroy. 
 
 Bob whistled. 
 
 " But," he said, " but but " The extraordinary 
 nature of the idea made him stammer. " But they are 
 Loyalists." 
 
 " As I figure it out," said Conroy, " they mean to 
 rebel. That's what they say, anyhow, and I believe 
 they mean it. I don't care a cent whether they call 
 themselves Loyalists or not. It's up to them to twist 
 the British Lion's tail, and I'm with them." 
 
 " Do you think they really mean it ? " said Bob. 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 " Well," said Bob, after a slight hesitation, " I do. 
 You see I happen to know one of them pretty well." 
 
 Bob showed political discernment. It was the fashion 
 in England and throughout three-quarters of Ire- 
 land to laugh at Belfast. Nobody believed that a com- 
 munity of merchants, manufacturers and artisans ac- 
 tually meant to take up arms, shoot off guns and hack at 
 the bodies of their fellow-men with swords and spears. 
 This thing, at the beginning of the twentieth century, 
 seemed incredible. To politicians it was simply unthink-
 
 II 
 
 able. For politics are a game played in strict accord- 
 ance with a set of rules. For several centuries no- 
 body in these islands had broken the rules. It had 
 come to be regarded as impossible that any one could 
 break them. No one expects his opponent at the bridge 
 table to draw a knife from his pocket and run amuck 
 when the cards go against him. Nobody expected that 
 the north of Ireland Protestants would actually fight. 
 To threaten fighting is, of course, well within the rules 
 of the game, a piece of bluff which any one is en- 
 titled to try if he thinks he will gain anything by it. 
 Half the politicians in both countries, and half the 
 inhabitants of England, were laughing at the Belfast 
 bluff. The rest of the politicians and the other half 
 of the inhabitants of England were pretending to be- 
 lieve what Belfast said so as to give an air of more 
 terrific verisimilitude to the bluff. Conroy, guided 
 by the instinct for the true meaning of things which 
 had led him to great wealth, believed that the talk was 
 more than bluff. Bob Power, relying on what he knew 
 of the character of one man, came to the same con- 
 clusion. 
 
 " Who is the man you know ? " said Conroy. " Not 
 Babberly, is it?" 
 
 "Oh Lord! no," said Bob. "Babberly is well, 
 Babberly talks a lot." 
 
 " That's so," said Conroy. " But if it isn't Babberly, 
 who is it ? " 
 
 " McNeice," said Bob, " Gideon McNeice." 
 " H'm. He's something in some university, isn't he ? " 
 Conroy spoke contemptuously. He had a low opin- 
 ion of the men who win honours in universities. They 
 seemed to him to be unpractical creatures. He had,
 
 12 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 indeed, himself founded a university before he left 
 America and handsomely endowed several professorial 
 chairs. But he did so in the spirit which led Dean 
 Swift to found a lunatic asylum. He wanted to pro- 
 vide a kind of hospital for a class of men who ought, 
 for the sake of society, to be secluded, lest their theor- 
 ies should come inconveniently athwart the plans of 
 those who are engaged in the real business of life. 
 
 " McNeice," said Bob, " is a Fellow of Trinity Col- 
 lege, Dublin. He was my tutor." 
 
 Then he told Conroy the story of Gideon McNeice's 
 life as far as he knew it at that time. It was a remark- 
 able story, but not yet, as it became afterwards, strik- 
 ingly singular. 
 
 Gideon was the son of Ebenezer McNeice, a riveter 
 in one of the great shipbuilding yards in Belfast. This 
 Ebenezer was an Orangeman and, on the I2th of July, 
 was accustomed to march long distances over dusty 
 roads beating a big drum with untiring vigour. His 
 Protestantism was a religion of the most definite kind. 
 He rarely went to church, but he hated Popery with 
 a profound earnestness. Gideon was taught, as soon 
 as he could speak, to say, " No Pope, no Priest, no 
 Surrender, Hurrah ! " That was the first stage in his 
 education. The second was taken at a National 
 school where he learned the multiplication table and 
 the decimal system with unusual ease. The master of 
 a second-rate intermediate school heard of the boy's 
 ability. Being anxious to earn the fees which a gen- 
 erous government gives to the masters of clever boys, 
 this man offered to continue Gideon's education with- 
 out asking payment from Ebenezer. The speculation 
 turned out well. Gideon did more than was expected
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 13 
 
 of him. He won all the exhibitions, medals and prizes 
 possible under the Irish Intermediate system. At last 
 he won a mathematical sizarship in Trinity College. 
 
 Belfast perhaps because of the religious atmos- 
 phere of the city, perhaps because of the interest taken 
 by its inhabitants in money-making has not given to 
 the world many eminent poets, philosophers or scholars. 
 Nor, curiously enough, has it ever produced an emi- 
 nent theologian, or even a heretic of any reputation. 
 But it has given birth to several mathematicians of 
 quite respectable standing. Gideon McNeice was one 
 of them. After the sizarship he won a scholarship, 
 and then, at an unusually early age, a fellowship. It 
 is generally believed that the examination for fellow- 
 ship in Trinity College in Dublin is so severe that no 
 one who is successful in it is ever good for anything 
 afterwards. Having once passed that examination men 
 are said to settle down into a condition of exhausted 
 mediocrity. Gideon McNeice proved to be an excep- 
 tion to the rule. Having won his fellowship and 
 thereby demonstrated to the world that he knew all 
 that there is to know about the science of mathematics, 
 he at once turned to theology. Theology, since he lived 
 in Ireland, led him straight to politics. He became one 
 of the fighting men of the Irish Unionist party. He 
 also, chiefly because of his very bad manners, became 
 very unpopular among the fellows and professors of 
 the College. 
 
 It must not be supposed that he had the smallest 
 sympathy with the unfortunate Irish aristocracy, who, 
 having like the Bourbons failed either to learn or to 
 forget, still repeat the watch-words of long-past cen- 
 turies and are greatly surprised that no one can be
 
 I 4 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 found to listen to them. Gideon McNeice's Unionism 
 was of a much more vigorous and militant kind. He 
 respected England and had no objection to singing 
 " God save the King " very much out of tune, so long 
 as England and her King were obviously and blatantly 
 on the side of Protestantism. He was quite prepared 
 to substitute some other form of government for our 
 present Imperial system if either the King, his repre- 
 sentative the Lord Lieutenant, or the Parliament of 
 Westminster, showed the smallest inclination to con- 
 sider the feelings of the Roman Catholic hierarchy. 
 
 It was thus that Bob Power, who was by no means a 
 fool, described McNeice's character. Conroy was in- 
 terested. 
 
 " I should like," he said, " to see that man and talk 
 to him. Suppose you go over to Dublin to-morrow and 
 bring him here." 
 
 "You won't like him," said Bob. "He's well, 
 domineering is the only word I can think of." 
 
 " For that matter," said Conroy, " I am domineering 
 too." 
 
 This was true. Conroy had good manners, unusu- 
 ally good manners for a millionaire, but underneath the 
 manners lay a determination to get his own way in 
 small matters as well as great. Bob, who knew both 
 men, expected that they would become deadly enemies 
 in the course of twenty-four hours. He was mistaken. 
 To say that they became friends would be misleading. 
 They probably disliked each other. But they certainly 
 became allies, planned together and worked together 
 the amazing scheme which ended in the last we are 
 justified in assuming that it really was the last re- 
 bellion of Irishmen against the power of England.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 15 
 
 Conroy supplied the money and a great deal of the 
 brains which went to the carrying through of the plan. 
 He had, as a financier with world-wide interests, a 
 knowledge of European markets and manufactures 
 which was very useful if not absolutely necessary. 
 He had, as his inspiration, an extraordinarily vivid 
 hatred of England. This was partly an inheritance 
 from his Irish ancestors, men who had been bullied for 
 centuries and laid the blame of their sufferings on Eng- 
 land. Partly it was the result of the contempt he 
 learned to feel for Englishmen while he held his lead- 
 ing position in London society. With McNeice's vio- 
 lent Protestantism he never can have had the smallest 
 sympathy. His ancestors were probably, almost cer- 
 tainly, Roman Catholics. If he professed any form 
 of Christianity it must have been that of some sect un- 
 represented in England. No one ever heard of his 
 attaching himself, even temporarily, to either church 
 or chapel. McNeice also supplied brains and enthu- 
 siasm. His intelligence was narrower than Conroy's, 
 but more intensely concentrated. He knew the men 
 with whom he intended to deal. By birth and early 
 education he belonged to that north Irish democracy 
 which is probably less imaginative and less reasonable 
 but more virile than any other in the world. He be- 
 lieved, as his fathers had believed before him and his 
 relations believed along with him, that the Belfast man 
 has a natural right to govern the world, and only re- 
 frains from doing so because he has more important 
 matters to attend to. He believed, and could give ex- 
 cellent reasons in support of his belief, that the other 
 inhabitants of Ireland were meant by providence to be 
 Gibeonites, hewers of wood and drawers of water for
 
 16 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 the people of Antrim and Down. He had quite as 
 great a contempt for the Unionist landlords, who occa- 
 sionally spoke beside him on political platforms, as he 
 had for the Nationalist tenants who were wrestling 
 their estates from them. 
 
 Bob Power went to Dublin, and with great difficulty 
 persuaded McNeice to pay Conroy a visit in London. 
 For a fortnight the two men remained together, dis- 
 cussing, planning, devising. Others, among them James 
 Crossan, manager of the Kilmore Co-operative Stores, 
 and Grand Master of the Orangemen of the county, 
 were summoned to the conference. 
 
 Then the first steps were taken. McNeice went back 
 to Ireland and began, with the aid of James Crossan, 
 his work of organization. Conroy sold his house in 
 London, realized by degrees a considerable part of his 
 large fortune, placed sums of money to his credit in 
 French and German banks and gave over the command 
 of his yacht, the Finola, to Bob Power. From this time 
 on Conroy disappeared from London society. Stories 
 were told in clubs and drawing-rooms about the say- 
 ings and doings of " His Royal Magnificence J. P. C.," 
 but these gradually grew stale and no fresh ones were 
 forthcoming. The newspapers still printed from time 
 to time paragraphs which had plainly been sent to them 
 by Conroy himself, but no one at the time took very 
 much interest in them. 
 
 " Mr. J. P. Conroy " so people read " has gone 
 for a cruise in Mediterranean waters in his steam yacht, 
 the Finola." It did not seem to matter whether he had 
 or not. " Among his guests are Then would fol- 
 low a list of names; but always those of people more 
 eminent than fashionable. The Prime Minister went
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 17 
 
 for a short cruise with him. The Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer went twice. Several admirals, a judge or 
 two, and three or four well-known generals were on 
 board at different times. Once he had two bishops, 
 an Anglican who was known as a profound theologian, 
 and a Roman Catholic prelate from the west of Ire- 
 land. The names of women rarely appeared on the 
 list, but the Countess of Moyne was advertised as 
 having accepted Conroy's hospitality twice. She was 
 well placed among the notable men. She was a young 
 woman of singular beauty and great personal charm. 
 She might have been if she had chosen a leader of 
 the society which lives to amuse itself. Her husband's 
 great wealth and high social position would have se- 
 cured her any place in that world which she chose to 
 take. Being a woman of brains as well as beauty she 
 chose to work instead of play, and had become a force, 
 real though not formally recognized, in political life. 
 
 It is a curious instance of the careful way in which 
 Conroy worked out the details of his plans, that he 
 should have used the Finola in this way. The cruises 
 which he took with his eminent guests were always 
 well advertised and always short. But the Finola was 
 kept continually in commission. Her voyages when there 
 were no great people on board were longer, were never 
 advertised, and were much more exciting. But no 
 one suspected, or could have suspected, that a million- 
 aire's yacht, and it the temporary home of the leading 
 members of the governing classes, could have been en- 
 gaged in a secret trade, highly dangerous to the peace 
 and security of the nation. It is difficult even now to 
 imagine that after landing the Prime Minister and 
 couple of bishops at Cowes the yacht should have
 
 i8 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 started off to keep a midnight appointment with a dis- 
 reputable tramp steamer in an unfrequented part of 
 the North Sea; that Bob Power, after making himself 
 agreeable for a fortnight to Lady Moyne, should have 
 sweated like a stevedore at the difficult job of tranship- 
 ping a cargo in mid-ocean.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 I NOW reach the time when I myself came for the 
 first time in touch with Conroy's plans and had 
 my first meeting with Gideon McNeice. 
 
 I am an insignificant Irish peer, far from wealthy, 
 with a taste for literature, and, I think, a moderate 
 amount of benevolent feeling towards those of my fel- 
 low-men who do not annoy me in any way. I sold 
 the estate, which had long before ceased to be in any 
 real sense my property, immediately after the passing 
 of the Land Act of 1903. I have lived since then 
 chiefly in Kilmore Castle, a delightfully situated resi- 
 dence built by my grandfather, which suits me very 
 well indeed. I have occupied my time for years back 
 in gathering materials for a history of all the Irish re- 
 bellions there have ever been. My daughter Marion 
 used to help me in this work, by filing and classifying 
 the various slips of paper on which I made notes. 
 Now that she has got married and cannot help me any 
 more I have given up the idea of finishing my great 
 work. I am satisfying my evil itch for writing by 
 setting down an account of the short struggle between 
 north-eastern Ulster and the rest of the British Em- 
 pire. 
 
 The 5th of June was the day on which I first met 
 Bob Power, first came into contact with McNeice, and 
 first set eyes on the notorious Finola. It was the day 
 fixed by my nephew Godfrey D'Aubigny for the first, 
 
 19
 
 20 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 for that year, of the series of garden-parties which I 
 give annually. I detest these festivities, and I have 
 every reason to believe that they must be quite as ob- 
 jectionable to my guests as they are to me. It is God- 
 frey who insists on their being held. He holds that 
 I am bound to do some entertaining in order to keep 
 up my position in the county. I am not in the least 
 interested in my position in the county; but Godfrey 
 is, and, of course, the matter is of some importance to 
 him. He is heir to my title. I used to think and he 
 used to think that he would ultimately enjoy my in- 
 come too, securing it by marrying my daughter Marion. 
 I am glad to say he has not succeeded in doing this. 
 Marion has married a much better man. 
 
 I was sitting in my study after breakfast, fiddling 
 with my papers, but unable to settle down to work. 
 The prospect of the party in the afternoon depressed 
 and irritated me. Godfrey entered the room suddenly 
 through the window. The fact that he is my heir does 
 not seem to me to entitle him to come upon me like 
 a thief in the night. He ought to go to the door of 
 the house, ring the bell, and ask if I am willing to see 
 him. 
 
 " Good morning, Excellency," he said, " glorious day, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 Godfrey always addressed me as " Excellency." I 
 cannot imagine why he does so. I have never been 
 and never hope to be a Lord Lieutenant or a Colonial 
 Governor. The title is not one which belongs to the 
 office of a deputy lieutenant of a county, the only 'post 
 of honour which I hold. 
 
 " I expect we'll have a pretty good crowd this after- 
 noon," he said. " Lady Moyne is motoring over. But
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 21 
 
 that's not what I came to say to you. The fact is that 
 something rather important has just happened." 
 
 " The people in the gate lodge have burst the new 
 boiler I put in for them, I suppose ? " This is the kind 
 of thing Godfrey considers important. 
 
 " Not that I know of," he said ; " but I'll go down 
 and inquire if you think " 
 
 " I don't think anything about the matter," I said. 
 " If it isn't that, what is it that you've come to tell 
 me?" 
 
 " A big steam yacht has just anchored in the bay," 
 he said, " the Finola. She belongs to Conroy, the mil- 
 lionaire." 
 
 Godfrey is intensely interested in millionaires. He 
 always hopes that he may be able in some way to se- 
 cure for himself some of their superfluous cash. 
 
 " I think," he said, " you ought to go down and 
 leave a card on him. It would only be civil." 
 
 " Very well," I said, " you can go and leave my 
 card, if you like." 
 
 This was evidently what Godfrey expected me to 
 say. He seemed grateful. 
 
 " Very well, Excellency, I'll go at once. I'll invite 
 him and his party to your menagerie this afternoon. 
 I dare say it will amuse them to see the natives." 
 
 Godfrey always calls my parties menageries, and 
 my guests natives. Lady Moyne and her husband, 
 who sometimes comes with her, are not counted as 
 natives. Nor am I. Nor is Marion. Nor is Godfrey 
 himself. This illustrates the working of Godfrey's 
 mind. As a matter of fact the Moynes and my own 
 family are about the only people of social importance 
 in the locality who ought to be called natives. My
 
 22 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 other guests are all strangers, officials of one kind or 
 another, stipendiary magistrates, police officers, bank 
 managers, doctors, clergymen and others whom an un- 
 kind fate has temporarily stranded in our neighbour- 
 hood; who all look forward to an escape from their 
 exile and a period of leisure retirement in the suburbs 
 of Dublin. 
 
 Godfrey left me, and I went on fidgetting with my 
 papers until luncheon-time. 
 
 Marion and I were just finishing luncheon when God- 
 frey came in again. 
 
 " Well," I said, " have you captured your million- 
 aire?" 
 
 " He wasn't on board," said Godfrey. " There were 
 two men there, Power, who's Conroy's secretary, and 
 a horrid bounder called McNeice. They were drinking 
 bottled stout in the cabin with Crossan." 
 
 " Under those circumstances," I said, " you did not, 
 I suppose, leave my cards." 
 
 Godfrey has a standing feud with Crossan, who is 
 not a gentleman and does not pretend to be. Godfrey, 
 judged by any rational standard, is even less of a gen- 
 tleman; but as the future Lord Kilmore he belongs 
 to the ranks of an aristocracy and therefore has a con- 
 tempt for Crossan. The two come into very frequent 
 contact and quite as frequent conflict. Crossan manages 
 the co-operative store which I started, and Godfrey re- 
 gards him as one of my servants. Crossan, who has a 
 fine instinct for business, also manages the commercial 
 side of our local mackerel fishing. Godfrey thinks he 
 would manage this better than Crossan does. Their 
 latest feud was concerned with the service of carts
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 23 
 
 which take the fish from our little harbour to the nearest 
 railway station. Crossan is politically a strong Protes- 
 tant and an Orangeman of high attainment. Godfrey 
 has no particular religion, and in politics belongs to that 
 old-fashioned school of Conservatives who think that 
 the lower orders ought to be respectful to their betters. 
 Crossan having been taught the Church Catechism in 
 his youth, admits this respect as theoretical duty ; but 
 gets out of performing it in practice by denying that 
 Godfrey, or for the matter of that any one else, is his 
 better. Godfrey's constant complaints about Crossan 
 are the thorns which remind me that I must not regard 
 my lot in life as altogether pleasant. I felt justified in 
 assuming that Godfrey had not left my cards on men 
 who degraded themselves so far as to drink bottled 
 stout in company with Crossan. 
 
 I was wrong. Godfrey did leave my cards. I can 
 only suppose that his respect for the private secretary 
 of a millionaire was stronger than his dislike of Cros- 
 san. He had even, it appeared, invited both Power and 
 McNeice to view my " menagerie." For this he felt it 
 necessary to offer some excuse. 
 
 " He is one of the Powers of Kilfenora," he said, 
 " so I thought it would be no harm. By the way, Mar- 
 ion, what are you going to wear? I should say that 
 your blue crepe de chine " 
 
 Godfrey is something of an expert in the matter of 
 woman's clothes. Marion, I know, frequently consults 
 him and values his opinion highly. Unfortunately the 
 subject bores me. I cut him short with a remark 
 which was intended for a snub. 
 
 " I hope you have a new suit yourself, Godfrey.
 
 24 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 The occasion is an important one. If both Lady Moyne 
 and Conroy's private secretary are to be here, you ought 
 to look your best." 
 
 But it is almost impossible to snub Godfrey. He 
 answered me with a cheerful friendliness which showed 
 that he appreciated my interest in his appearance. 
 
 " I have a new grey suit," he said. " It arrived this, 
 morning, and it's a capital fit. That's the advantage 
 of employing really good tailors. You can absolutely 
 trust Nicholson and Blackett." 
 
 I have often wondered whether Nicholson and 
 Blackett could absolutely trust Godfrey. I have sev- 
 eral times paid his debts, and I do not intend to do so 
 any more. If they were debts of an intelligible kind I 
 should not mind paying them occasionally. But God- 
 frey has no ostensible vices. I have never heard of 
 his doing anything wild or disreputable. He does not 
 gamble or borrow money in order to give jewels to 
 pretty actresses. He owes bills to shop-keepers for 
 ties and trousers. His next remark showed me that 
 Nicholson and Blackett were becoming uneasy. 
 
 " By the way, Excellency," he said, " I'd be glad if 
 you'd be civil to the Pringles this afternoon. Get her 
 tea or something." 
 
 Mr. Pringle is the manager of the branch of the 
 bank in which Godfrey keeps his account. I imagine 
 that he and his wife owe their invitations to my gar- 
 den parties to the fact that Godfrey's account is always 
 overdrawn. This demand that I should be especially 
 civil to the Pringles suggested to me that Godfrey con- 
 templated sending a cheque to Nicholson and Blackett. 
 I have no particular objection to being civil to the Prin-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 25 
 
 gles. I have to be civil to some one. I readily prom- 
 ised to get both tea and an ice for Mrs. Pringle ; hoping 
 that Godfrey would go away. He did not. He began 
 talking again about Marion's blue dress. It was with 
 the greatest difficulty that I got him out of the house 
 half an hour later by saying that if he did not go home 
 at once he would not have time to dress himself with 
 the care which the new grey suit deserved. 
 
 It annoys me very much to think Godfrey is heir 
 to my title. It used to annoy me still more to think that 
 Marion meant to marry him. She assures me now that 
 she never intended to ; but she used to take an interest in 
 his talk about clothes and he certainly intended to marry 
 her.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THERE are some churches in which it is consid- 
 ered desirable to keep the sexes apart. The men 
 are placed on one side of the central aisle, the women 
 on the other. At my garden-parties this separation 
 takes place naturally without the intervention of any 
 authority. The men gather in a group under a cer- 
 tain chestnut-tree and talk to each other gloomily in 
 low tones. The women there are always more 
 women than men seat themselves in three distinct 
 rows round the sides of the tennis-court. The short 
 row across the top of the tennis-court is reserved by 
 an unwritten, but apparently very strict law for the 
 ladies of the highest social position. The Dean's wife, 
 for instance, sits in that row. The seats at the other 
 end of the court are occupied by people like the Prin- 
 gles, those who are just eligible for invitations to my 
 parties, but have, so to speak, no social position to spare. 
 They always remind me of St. Paul's " righteous " who 
 " scarcely are saved." The long side of the tennis- 
 court opposite the chestnut-tree, which forms a kind 
 of male seraglio, is given over to those of middling sta- 
 tion, ladies who are, perhaps, in a position to shake 
 hands with Lady Moyne, and who do not, perhaps, call 
 on Mrs. Pringle. 
 
 To this strictly observed etiquette there are two ex- 
 ceptions. My nephew Godfrey does not stand under 
 the chestnut-tree, but keeps close to the side of Lady 
 
 26
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 27 
 
 Moyne. The other men make it quite clear that they 
 do not want him. No man whom I have ever met can 
 tolerate Godfrey's company. He follows Lady Moyne 
 about because he believes her to be a lady of political 
 influence, and he hopes she will get him a well-paid 
 post under the government. He is one exception. The 
 other is Lady Moyne herself. She declines to sit in a 
 row. She walks about, sometimes walks away from 
 the rest of the party. 
 
 My daughter Marion's duty on these occasions is 
 to drag young men from the shelter of the chestnut- 
 tree and make them play tennis with young women 
 called from one or other of the rows in which their 
 mothers have planted them. Marion finds this a diffi- 
 cult duty, requiring her utmost tact. My own duty, 
 which I fulfil in the most conscientious manner, is to 
 make as many complete journeys round the tennis- 
 court as possible, saying something to every lady in all 
 three rows, and giving a kind of general address of a 
 friendly and encouraging kind to the men under the 
 chestnut-tree. 
 
 On this particular afternoon two unusual incidents 
 broke the monotony of my party. Lady Moyne re- 
 fused to be satisfied with the company of Godfrey. 
 She sat down beside the Dean's wife and made herself 
 extremely agreeable for nearly ten minutes. Then she 
 crossed the corner of the tennis-court, seriously inter- 
 fering with the game in progress, and " cut out " the 
 Dean from the middle of the group of men under the 
 chestnut-tree. " Cut out " is strictly the right phrase 
 to use. It is applied or used to be applied to the opera- 
 tion of capturing and carrying off ships at anchor un- 
 der the protecting guns of friendly forts. It requires
 
 .28 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 great dash and gallantry to " cut out " a ship. The 
 whole audience gaped in astonishment at Lady Moyne's 
 daring when she captured the Dean. She walked off 
 with him, when she got him, to the shrubbery at the 
 far end of the lawn. They were a singularly ill-as- 
 sorted pair. Lady Moyne is invariably exquisite, a 
 small woman with dainty ways and great vivacity. The 
 Dean is an ecclesiastic as different as possible from the 
 suave dignitaries who lead lives of scholarly leisure in 
 cathedral closes. We picture the ideal dean, a slender 
 man, slightly stooped, thin-lipped, with a suggestion 
 of mild asceticism in his face. He. steps slowly through 
 the long window of his study. He paces the closely 
 shaven lawn. The crows caw reverently in lofty trees. 
 He holds a calf-bound volume of Plato in his hand. 
 From time to time he glances from the cramped Greek 
 text to the noble, weatherworn towers of his cathedral. 
 His life is delicately scented with a fine mixture of 
 classical culture and Tallis' ferial responses. Our 
 Dean he is also rector of our parish is a man of a 
 wholly different kind. He is, for one thing, wholly 
 unconnected with any cathedral and has probably never 
 paced a lawn beneath the shadow of historic towers in 
 all his life. This kind of detached, independent dean 
 is not found, I believe, anywhere except in Ireland. 
 He is tall, cadaverous, rugged, and he can open his 
 eyes so wide that the whites of them show all round 
 the irises. Besides being a dean and the rector of our 
 parish, he is honorary Grand Chaplain to the Black 
 Preceptory of the Orange Order. Crossan, a stern 
 judge of ecclesiastics, has the highest opinion of him. 
 It was surmised by a lady in the second row to whom 
 I happened to be talking at the time, that Lady Moyne
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 29 
 
 wanted to consult with him about the best way of de- 
 feating the Home Rule Bill. Lady Moyne is, of course, 
 a strong Unionist. 
 
 The second unusual incident of the afternoon fol- 
 lowed the arrival of Bob Power. He came late, and 
 Godfrey, driven from the side of Lady Moyne, fastened 
 on to him at once. Bob shook him off and joined Mar- 
 ion. Marion, who had her duties to do and could not 
 allow Bob to take possession of her, introduced him 
 to a humble maiden who sat with her mother in the 
 third row. Bob, it appears, selected the damsel him- 
 self after looking all round the tennis-court. To the 
 great scandal of every one present he led her away 
 from the tennis-court, and found his way to the gar- 
 den. There I judged by the condition of her gloves 
 when they returned they picked strawberries. I 
 have every reason to believe that Miss Pringle the 
 girl was the daughter of Godfrey's banker enjoyed 
 this garden-party as she had never enjoyed one before. 
 She was actually laughing, and was looking very pretty 
 when Bob brought her back to the refreshment tent for 
 tea. 
 
 I felt so pleased with Bob for his audacity that I 
 asked him to dine with us. He refused, saying that he 
 would be busy on the yacht, but he promised to call on 
 us next morning. 
 
 The garden-party wore itself to an end as even the 
 dreariest festivities always do. Marion and I dined 
 together in a condition of irritable exhaustion. After 
 dinner we played Patience for an hour in the library. 
 Then Marion took a novel, and I settled down to read 
 The Times. The night was very close and we sat 
 with both windows wide open.
 
 3 o THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 The Times had articles and letters on two subjects, 
 the Home Rule Bill, which was a menace to the Em- 
 pire and a danger to Irish Loyalists; and the German 
 Navy, which was also a menace to the Empire and a 
 danger to every one in the United Kingdom whether 
 loyal or not. After reading the leading articles I passed 
 on to the letters addressed to the editor. These are 
 always, in my opinion, the most interesting part of any 
 newspaper. The editor and leader writers are no 
 doubt abler men than most of their correspondents; 
 but then they write because they must, and they write 
 in a hurry. The correspondents on the other hand 
 write because they have something in them some- 
 thing foolish as a rule, but none the less interesting 
 which is struggling for expression in print. They also 
 being for the most part retired military officers - 
 have abundant leisure and are able to take days, 
 perhaps weeks, in the preparation of their compo- 
 sitions. 
 
 In that particular number of The Times, two retired 
 colonels had written letters. One of them was dis- 
 quieted by the growth of the German Navy. He was 
 uninteresting. The other a Colonel Malcolmson, 
 whom I meet occasionally at my club had delivered 
 himself of a plan of campaign, an actual fighting pro- 
 gramme, which he recommended to the Ulstermen, 
 supposing that they meant to declare war against any 
 one who wanted them to govern themselves. This 
 letter interested me very much. Malcolmson offered 
 his lawn as a parade and drill ground for volunteers. 
 He also said that he thoroughly understood modern 
 guns, and was prepared to take command of any artil- 
 lery which Ulster might happen to possess. I lay back
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 31 
 
 in my chair and tried to form a mental picture of Mal- 
 colmson, who is stout and has a bristly white moustache, 
 aiming an immense cannon at an income tax collector. 
 The vision was a pleasant one to linger over, and I 
 added to the scene before my mind the figure of an 
 athletic policeman threatening to smash Malcolmson's 
 cannon with a baton. The Nationalist leaders then ap- 
 peared in the background waving Union Jack flags, and 
 urging the policeman to fresh exertions in the cause of 
 law and order. I even seemed to hear them denounc- 
 ing Malcolmson as one of those who march through 
 rapine and bloodshed to the dismemberment of an 
 Empire. 
 
 I was aroused from my agreeable reverie by Marion. 
 She was standing at the window looking out across the 
 bay on the far shore of which stands the little town of 
 Kilmore, from which my ancestor, who was a Union 
 peer, took his title. 
 
 " I wonder what they're doing in the village to- 
 night," she said. " There are a lot of lights moving 
 about in the harbour and on the quay." 
 
 I shook myself free of the vision of Malcolmson's 
 artillery duel with the tax collector, and joined Marion 
 at the window. A half moon lit the scene before me 
 dimly, making patches of silver light here and there 
 on the calm waters of the bay. The Finola, looking 
 very large, lay at anchor, broadside on to us, opposite 
 the pier. On her deck lights moved to and fro, yellow 
 stars in the grey gloom. On the pier were more lights, 
 lanterns evidently, some stationary, others flickering in 
 rapid motion. The night was so still that I could hear 
 distinctly the rattle of oars in rowlocks. Boats were 
 plying between the Finola and the shore.
 
 3 2 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " Can they be landing anything from the yacht ? " 
 said Marion. 
 
 " I don't think so," I said. " Yachts do not carry 
 cargoes, and if they did they wouldn't land them in the 
 middle of the night." 
 
 I looked at my watch. It was almost twelve o'clock. 
 Then another noise was added to the rattling of oars. 
 A cart, unmistakably a cart, lumbered across the stones 
 at the end of the pier. After a while this cart 
 emerged from the black shadows of the houses and we 
 could see it toiling up the hill which leads out of the 
 town. A very slight southerly breeze was setting 
 across the bay from the town to us. We could hear 
 the driver shouting encouragement to his horse as he 
 breasted the hill. The cart was evidently heavily 
 loaded. 
 
 " The boats haven't been out," said Marion. " There 
 cannot have been a catch of mackerel." 
 
 When there is a catch of mackerel the fish are packed 
 in boxes on the pier, and carts, laden like the one we 
 watched, climb the hill. There is a regularly organ- 
 ized service of those carts under the control of Crossan. 
 
 " It can't be fish," I said, " unless the Finola has been 
 making a catch and has come in here to land them." 
 
 Another cart bumped its way off the pier, and in a 
 minute or two we saw it climbing the hill. Then the 
 lights on the Finola's deck went out one by one. The 
 boats ceased plying between the yacht and the shore. 
 
 " I don't see why they should land fish in the middle 
 of the night," said Marion. 
 
 The activity of the people on the pier increased. 
 More lights appeared there and moved very rapidly to 
 and fro.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 33 
 
 " Unless they're landing what they're ashamed of," 
 said Marion, " I don't see why they're doing it at 
 night." 
 
 Mysteries always irritate me. I answered Marion 
 impatiently. 
 
 " You can't be so foolish as to suppose that Conroy 
 is smuggling. It wouldn't be any temptation to a 
 millionaire to cheat the revenue out of the duty on a 
 few pounds of tobacco." 
 
 Several more carts followed each other in a slow 
 procession up the hill. It seemed as if Crossan's en- 
 tire staff of men and horses was engaged in this mid- 
 night transport service. 
 
 " Mr. Conroy might not know anything about it," 
 said Marion. " It may be done " 
 
 " I don't suppose Bob Power " 
 
 " There was another man on board," said Marion, 
 " and Godfrey seemed to think that he was well, not 
 a very nice kind of man." 
 
 " The fact that Godfrey called him a cad," I said, 
 " rather goes to show that he is a man with a great 
 deal of good in him. Besides, as it happens, I know 
 all about him. His name is McNeice and he is a Fellow 
 of Trinity College. It's ridiculous to suppose that he's 
 landing a cargo of port wine for consumption in the 
 common room. Fellows of College don't do that kind 
 of thing. Besides, he's a good scholar. I had some 
 correspondence with him when I was writing my article 
 on St. Patrick's birthplace. I mean to ask him to din- 
 ner to-morrow." 
 
 That disposed of Marion and her smuggling theory. 
 She gave me a dutiful kiss and went to bed. 
 
 I stood at the window and watched until the last cart
 
 34 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 had mounted the hill. The lights on the pier went out. 
 A solitary boat rowed back to the Finola. The town 
 and bay were still again. 
 
 I shut the window and went back to my chair. I had 
 some thoughts of working up my vision of Malcolm- 
 son and his artillery into a short article of a light kind, 
 slightly humorous, with a vein of satire running through 
 it. I sometimes contribute articles of this kind, under 
 a pseudonym, to a London evening paper. Unfortu- 
 nately my mind refused to return to the subject. I 
 was worried by the impossibility of finding any ex- 
 planation of the curious proceedings of the Finola. 
 The more I thought about the matter the less I was 
 able to understand it. Marion's smuggling hypothesis 
 I dismissed as inherently absurd. It is true that the 
 government has withdrawn most of the coastguards 
 from our shores. We used to have twelve of them at 
 Kilmore, and they were pleasant fellows, always ready 
 to chat on topics of current interest with any passer-by. 
 Now, having lingered on for some years with only two, 
 we have none at all. But, as I understand, coastguards 
 are not the real obstacle to smugglers and never were. 
 The safety of the revenue depends upon the perfection 
 of the organization of its inland officers which makes 
 it impossible to dispose of whisky which cannot show 
 a respectable past history. 
 
 I was driven back finally on my own theory in- 
 herently very improbable that the Finola had, in the 
 course of her voyage, netted an immense catch of mack- 
 erel and had come into Kilmore harbour to get rid of 
 them.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 BOB POWER called on me next morning. Mar- 
 ion and I were busy at my history of Irish rebel- 
 lions when Bob was shown into the library. The sun, 
 I recollect, was shining so brightly outside that I had 
 the blinds pulled down in order to soften the light. 
 Bob's entrance had much the same effect as pulling up 
 the blinds again. He brought the sunshine with him, 
 not in the trying form of heat and glare, but tempered 
 with a sea breeze, and broken, so it seemed to me, into 
 the sparkle of leaping waves. His work, the night be- 
 fore, whatever it was, had not affected his spirits. 
 
 As a rule I dislike being interrupted when I am en- 
 gaged in my literary work. I always absolutely hate 
 it when Godfrey is the interrupter. But I found my- 
 self quite pleased when Bob Power said that we ought 
 not to sit indoors on so fine a day. Marion ran off to 
 get her hat and joined us on the lawn. Bob Power led 
 us straight to the garden, and when we got there, made 
 for the strawberry bed. He owned to a pleasant recol- 
 lection of the feast he had enjoyed the day before. 
 
 There is a good deal of the school-boy about Bob 
 Power, and Marion is quite young enough to enjoy 
 gorging herself with ripe strawberries. I, alas ! am 
 nearly sixty years of age. A very small number of 
 strawberries satisfies me, and I find that stooping to 
 gather them from beneath their nets tires me after a 
 short time. Bob Power and Marion wandered far into 
 
 35
 
 36 'THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 the remoter parts of my strawberry bed. I stayed near 
 the pathway. Their voices reached me and their laugh- 
 ter ; but I could not hear what they were saying to each 
 other. I felt suddenly lonely. They were getting on 
 very well without me. I went on by myself and in- 
 spected my melon frames. I left them after a while 
 and took a look at my poultry yard. 
 
 The rearing of poultry is one of the things which I 
 do in order to benefit my country. Quite ordinary 
 chickens satisfy my personal needs, and the egg of the 
 modest barndoor fowl is all I ask at breakfast-time. 
 But an energetic young lady in a short tweed skirt and 
 thick brown boots explained to me two years ago that 
 Ireland would be a much happier country if everybody 
 in it kept fowls with long pedigrees. She must have 
 been right about this, because the government paid her 
 a small salary to go round the country saying it; and 
 no government, not even ours, would pay people to 
 say what is not true. Her plan for introducing the su- 
 perior hens into the homes of the people was that I 
 should undertake the care of such birds as she sent 
 me, and give their eggs, under certain conditions, to 
 any one who asked for them. This I agreed to do, and 
 my new fowl yard, arranged exactly as the young lady 
 in thick boots wished, is my latest effort in patriotism. 
 
 The hens which inhabited it were very fine-looking 
 birds, and the cock who dominated them was a credit 
 to any government. I watched them with real pleasure 
 for some time. Then it occurred to me as curious 
 that a government which recognized the value of good 
 blood in birds, bulls, boars, horses, and even bees 
 if bees have blood should be not only indifferent but 
 actually hostile to our human aristocracy. For years
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 37 
 
 past animals of pedigree have been almost forced upon 
 Ireland. Men of pedigree have as far as possible been 
 discouraged from remaining in this country. This 
 idea struck me as very suitable for one of my light 
 newspaper articles. I was unwilling to lose grip of it 
 and allow it to fade away as Malcolmson and his can- 
 nons had faded the night before. I took a sheet of 
 paper and a pencil from my pocket and sat down on a 
 stone to make a rough draft of the article. Before I 
 had written three sentences I heard Marion's voice. 
 
 " Oh, there you are, father. We were looking for 
 you everywhere. Mr. Power and I want you to come 
 and play tennis with us." 
 
 I rose and stuffed my paper into my pocket. I felt 
 quite glad that they had found me, although I do not 
 care for playing tennis, and, as a rule, enjoy writing 
 articles. 
 
 " You will get on much better without me," I said. 
 
 " Oh no," said Marion ; " Mr. Power is sure to beat 
 me in a single ; but I think I'd have a pretty good chance 
 if you are on his side." 
 
 I was to act as a handicap. My efforts to help 
 Power were reckoned to be worth one, perhaps two 
 strokes in every game for Marion. This was not com- 
 plimentary to me; but I dare say my tennis deserves 
 no more respectful treatment. I agreed to be a handi- 
 cap, and I was a good one. Marion won the first set. 
 I got exceedingly hot, but, up to the middle of the 
 second set, I enjoyed myself. Then Godfrey ap- 
 peared. He watched my efforts with an air of cold 
 superiority and contemptuous surprise. My heart 
 failed me and I was obliged to ask to be allowed to 
 stop.
 
 38 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 Bob Power invited us to lunch on the Finola. Mar- 
 ion accepted the invitation joyfully. Godfrey also 
 accepted, although I do not think Power meant to ask 
 him. But Godfrey is not the kind of man to miss the 
 chance of getting into touch, however remotely, with 
 any one as rich as Conroy. Power eyed him with an 
 expression of frank dislike. Godfrey, it seemed to 
 me, did not much like Power. He was probably an- 
 noyed at the way in which Power made himself agree- 
 able to Marion. Godfrey regarded Marion as, in a 
 sense, his property, although there was nothing in the 
 way of an engagement between them. 
 
 McNeice, whom I had hoped to meet, was not on 
 the yacht. The steward explained to us that he was 
 spending the day with Crossan. I could see that the 
 thought of any one spending the day with Crossan 
 outraged Godfrey's sense of decency. By way, I sup- 
 pose, of annoying Power, he asked what had been hap- 
 pening on the Finola at twelve o'clock the night be- 
 fore. 
 
 " I was awakened up," he said, " by the noise of 
 carts going along the street and I looked out. I could 
 see lights on the yacht and on the pier. What on 
 earth were you doing at that time of night ? " 
 
 " Coaling," said Power, shortly. 
 
 It was plain to me that he disliked being asked ques- 
 tions. It must have been plain to Godfrey, too, for he 
 immediately asked another. 
 
 " How did you get coal in a place like this ? " 
 
 " Dear me," said Marion, " how very unromantic ! 
 I thought you were smuggling ! " 
 
 Godfrey's face assumed an expression of quite un- 
 usual intelligence. He suspected Power of evil prac-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 39 
 
 tices of some sort. Marion's suggestion of smuggling 
 delighted him. 
 
 " But where did you get the coal ? " he persisted. 
 
 " My dear Godfrey," I said, " for all you or I know 
 there may be hundreds of tons of it piled up in the 
 co-operative store. Crossan has a wonderful business 
 instinct. He may have speculated on a visit from 
 some large steamer and be making a large profit. I 
 am the principal shareholder, and nothing pleases me 
 better than to see the store succeeding." 
 
 I knew, as a matter of fact, that Crossan had no 
 coal. I also knew that the Finola was not coaling. 
 The carts were loaded when they were going up the 
 hill. They would have been empty if they had been 
 going to get coal for the Finola. I made my remark 
 in the hope of discouraging Godfrey from asking more 
 questions. 
 
 " I wish you would smuggle something," said Mar- 
 ion. " I should love to have some French lace laid 
 at my door in a bale in the middle of the night." 
 
 Marion reads novels, and the smugglers in these 
 import French lace. In real life the only people who 
 try to cheat the nation out of its duty on lace are 
 tourist ladies, and they would not share their spoils 
 with Marion. 
 
 " But why did you coal in the middle of the night ? " 
 said Godfrey. 
 
 One of Godfrey's most striking characteristics is his 
 persistent curiosity. There is hardly anything in the 
 world which Godfrey will not find out if he is given 
 time. A secret has the same attraction for him that 
 cheese has for a mouse. Some day, I hope, he will 
 find a trap baited with a seductive mystery.
 
 40 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " We always coal at night," said Power. 
 
 " Of course," said Marion, " the dirt shows so much 
 less at night than it would in daylight." 
 
 " But," said Godfrey, " I don't understand why 
 you " 
 
 I rose and said that we must go ashore. I invited 
 Power to dinner, and urged him to bring McNeice with 
 him if possible. I made it quite plain that I was not 
 inviting Godfrey. Power accepted the invitation, and 
 sent us off in a boat. I said good-bye firmly to God- 
 frey at the end of the pier. I was annoyed with him 
 for cross-questioning our host at his own table. Mar- 
 ion and I walked home. Godfrey walked up the hill 
 towards the co-operative store. I am sure he did not 
 want to see Crossan. I cannot suppose that he would 
 venture to catechise McNeice. I expect he meant to 
 prowl round the premises in hopes of discovering casks 
 of smuggled brandy or cases full of tobacco. 
 
 McNeice came to dinner, and I am bound to say 
 that I found myself very nearly in agreement with 
 Godfrey's opinion of him. He was a singularly ill- 
 mannered man. Power devoted himself to Marion, and 
 I felt at once that their conversation was not of a kind 
 that was likely to be interesting either to McNeice or 
 me. They were talking about ski-ing and skating in 
 Switzerland. McNeice made no effort to talk at all. 
 He sucked his soup into his mouth with a loud hissing 
 noise, and glared at me when I invited him to admire 
 our scenery. His fish he ate more quietly, and I took 
 the opportunity of reminding him of our corre- 
 spondence about St. Patrick. The subject roused him. 
 
 " There are," he said, " seventeen different theories 
 about the place of that man's birth."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 41 
 
 I knew nine myself, my own, of which I was a little 
 proud, being the ninth. I did not expect McNeice to 
 deliver a harangue on the whole seventeen, but that is 
 what he did. Having bolted his fish, he began in a 
 loud, harsh voice to pour contempt on all attempts at 
 investigating the early history of our national saint. 
 He delayed our progress through dinner a good deal, 
 because he would neither refuse nor help himself to 
 the entree which my butler held at his elbow. It was 
 not until he had finished with the whole seventeen 
 theories about the saint that he turned his attention to 
 dinner again. I ventured to suggest that he had not 
 even mentioned my own theory. 
 
 " Oh," he said, " you have a theory too, have you ? " 
 
 My theory, at the time of its first appearance, occu- 
 pied ten whole pages of the Nineteenth Century, and 
 when republished, with notes, in pamphlet form, was 
 reviewed by two German papers. I felt hurt by his 
 ignorance of it, and reminded him again that we had 
 corresponded about the subject while I was writing 
 the article. 
 
 " If you've time to waste on that sort of thing," he 
 said, " why not devote it to living bishops instead of 
 one who has been dead over a thousand years ? " 
 
 The idea of investigating the origins of our existing 
 bishops was new to me but not in the least attractive. 
 
 " Wouldn't it be rather waste of labour," I said, 
 " to build up an hypothesis about the birthplace of a 
 living bishop when " 
 
 " It's certainly waste of labour to build up an hy- 
 pothesis about a dead one." 
 
 " I meant to say," I added, " that if one did want 
 to know such a thing "
 
 42 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " Nobody does," said McNeice. 
 
 " It would," I went on, " be much simpler to write 
 and ask him." 
 
 I gathered from the way in which he spoke that 
 McNeice did not like bishops; but I was not prepared 
 for the violence of the speech which he made to me 
 after dinner. Marion and Power were at the piano, 
 which stands in a far-off corner of my rather over- 
 sized drawing-room. McNeice settled himself in front 
 of the fire, his long legs straddled far apart, the bow of 
 his white tie twisted under his ear. He is a man of 
 singularly ferocious appearance. He has very bushy 
 eyebrows which meet across the bridge of his nose, 
 shining green eyes, a large jaw heavily underhung, and 
 bright red hair. 
 
 He addressed me for more than half an hour on 
 the subject of bishops in general. I should be very 
 sorry to write down the things he said. Some of them 
 were quite untrue. Others were utterly unjust. It is 
 quite wrong, for instance, to impute it as a crime to a 
 whole class of men that their heads are bald. Nobody 
 can help being bald if his hair will not grow any more 
 than he can help being fat if his stomach will swell. 
 Fatness was another of the accusations which McNeice 
 hurled against the bishops. I suppose this violent 
 hatred of an inoffensive class of men was partly the 
 result of McNeice's tremendous Protestantism. The 
 poet Milton, I think, felt in the same way about the 
 prelates of his day. Partly it may have been the ex- 
 pression of his naturally democratic temperament. 
 Bishops like to be called " my lord " by servants and 
 clergymen. McNeice, I imagine, has a quite evangeli- 
 cal dislike of such titles. I dare say that it was the
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 43 
 
 fact of my being a lord which made him so rude to 
 me. 
 
 On the afternoon of my garden-party I happened to 
 be standing close beside Lady Moyne when she was 
 saying good-bye to the Dean. Her final remark was 
 addressed quite as much to him as to me. 
 
 " What we have got to do," she said, " is to make 
 use of this virile democracy of ours; to mould it into 
 an instrument for the preservation of social order. 
 The introduction of the Home Rule Bill gives us just 
 about the chance we want." 
 
 I found myself wondering, while the diatribe against 
 the bishops was in full swing, whether Lady Moyne 
 would succeed in moulding McNeice into a weapon 
 for her hand. It seemed to me more probable at the 
 moment that McNeice would in the end tumble her 
 beautiful head from the block of a guillotine into the 
 basket of sawdust which waited underneath. 
 
 Marion and Bob Power were singing songs from 
 Gilbert and Sullivan's operas while McNeice preached 
 to me. They at least were having an enjoyable even- 
 ing. I dare say McNeice enjoyed himself too. If so, 
 my dinner-party was not given in vain. One cannot 
 reasonably expect more than three out of every four 
 people to be happy at the same time. It was my mis- 
 fortune that I happened to be the fourth.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE Finola steamed out of our bay next morning. 
 Marion saw her go, and became quite lyrical at 
 breakfast about the beauty of her " lines," a word 
 which, as applied to the appearance of a yacht, she can 
 only have learned from Bob Power. I was not able 
 to share her rapture because the Finola went out at 
 6 a. m., an hour at which I make it a settled rule to be 
 in bed. Marion is generally in bed at 6 a. m. too. She 
 made an exceptional effort that morning. 
 
 For a week I enjoyed almost unbroken peace, and 
 accumulated quite a large sheaf of notes for my work 
 on the Irish Rebellions. Even Godfrey refrained from 
 worrying me. But such happiness was too good to 
 last long. On Saturday morning three things hap- 
 pened, every one of them of a disturbing kind. I re- 
 ceived a letter from Lady Moyne in which she invited 
 me to spend three days during the following week at 
 Castle Affey. Castle Affey is Lord Moyne's chief Irish 
 place. He has three others in various parts of the 
 country and one in England. It is about ten miles 
 from my home. Lady Moyne invited Marion too; but 
 this was evidently an after thought, and she discounted 
 the value of the invitation by saying that her party was 
 to consist almost entirely of men and might be dull for 
 Marion. I suspected politics at once, and advised Mar- 
 ion to refuse the invitation. I accepted it. Politics 
 bore me a good deal; but it is interesting to watch
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 45 
 
 politicians at their game. It is also pleasant, very 
 pleasant, to be in the company of Lady Moyne. The 
 prospect of the visit was as I have said disturbing. I 
 prefer monotony. But if things must fall splashing 
 into the pool of my life, I would as soon they took the 
 form of visits to Castle Affey as any other. 
 
 The next thing which happened that morning was a 
 deputation. It consisted of six out of the twenty cart- 
 ers whom Crossan has organized in the interests of our 
 fishing industry. They made the modest request that 
 I should drive my nephew Godfrey out of the neigh- 
 bourhood. I felt the strongest possible sympathy with 
 them. If I were a carter, a fisherman, a shopkeeper, 
 or a farmer, and lived in Kilmore, I should certainly 
 wish Godfrey to live somewhere else. I did not even 
 question the members of the deputation about their 
 special reasons for wanting to get rid of Godfrey. 
 They told me in general terms that he was interfering 
 in business which was " none of his." I wanted no 
 evidence in support of such a statement. Godfrey al- 
 ways interferes in everything. A very freckled young 
 man who seemed to be junior member of the deputa- 
 tion, added that Godfrey " spied " upon them. Of 
 course Godfrey spied on them. He spies on me. 
 
 Strong as my sympathy was with the perfectly rea- 
 sonable request of the deputation, I could not act as I 
 was asked. Godfrey is, of course, in my employment. 
 He collects the head rents still payable to me from 
 some parts of the town which were not sold when I 
 parted with the rest of my estate. For this I pay him 
 200 a year. I could, I suppose, dismiss him if I 
 chose ; but the plain fact is that if I dismissed Godfrey 
 he would immediately starve or go to the workhouse.
 
 46 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 He is quite unfit to earn his living in any way. Once, 
 after great exertions, I secured for him a kind of 
 minor clerkship in a government office. His duties, 
 so far as I was able to learn, were to put stamps on 
 envelopes, and he was provided with a damp sponge to 
 prevent any injury which might happen to his tongue 
 through licking the stamps. At the end of a year he 
 was dismissed as hopelessly incompetent. He came 
 back to me, beautifully dressed, with a small despatch- 
 box full of tradesmen's bills, and a grievance against 
 the government. It was plain to me after that experi- 
 ment that Godfrey could never earn his own living. I 
 did not see my way to let him drift into the workhouse. 
 He is, little as I like him, the heir to my title, and, in 
 mere decency, I could not allow the cost of his support 
 to fall on the rates. 
 
 This is just one of the ways in which the democratic 
 spirit of independence has affected us all without our 
 knowing it. In the seventeenth century any member 
 of the aristocracy who was afflicted with an heir like 
 Godfrey had him shut up in the Bastille, or the Tower, 
 by means of lettres de cachet or whatever corresponded 
 to such instruments in England. There the objection- 
 able young man ate bread and drank water at the ex- 
 pense of the public funds. Nobody seems to have 
 suffered any discomfort at the thought that the cost of 
 the support of his relative was falling either on the 
 rates or the taxes. (I am not sure which it was but it 
 must have been one or the other.) Nowadays we are 
 horribly self-conscious in such matters. The debili- 
 tated labourer began it, objecting, absurdly, to being 
 fed by other people in the workhouse. His spirit 
 spread to the upper classes, and it is now impossible,
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 47 
 
 morally, for me, a peer, to send my heir to the work- 
 house. Fortunately public opinion is swinging round 
 again. The latest type of working-man has no objec- 
 tion to receiving an Old Age Pension, and likes to hear 
 of his children being given free breakfasts at school. 
 In time this new feeling will soak through to the class 
 to which I belong. Then I shall be able, without a 
 qualm, to send Godfrey to the workhouse. At present, 
 I regret to say, I cannot. 
 
 I explained all this carefully to the deputation. It 
 pained me to have to say no to their request, but I said 
 it quite firmly. My decision, I think, was understood. 
 My feelings I fear were not. 
 
 Very soon after the deputation left, Godfrey himself 
 arrived. He wanted me to dismiss Crossan. I am not 
 at all sure that I could dismiss Crossan even if I wanted 
 to do so. He is the manager of our co-operative store, 
 and although most of the money which went to the 
 starting of that enterprise was mine there is a con- 
 siderable number of small shareholders. Crossan also 
 runs the fishing business and our saw mill. I capital- 
 ized both these industries, lending money to the men 
 to buy nets and good boats, and buying the various saws 
 which are necessary to the making of planks. This no 
 doubt gives me some hold over Crossan, but not enough 
 to enable me to dismiss him as I might a cook. Besides, 
 I do not want to dismiss Crossan. He is managing 
 these different enterprises in such a way that they earn 
 fair interest on the capital I put into them. 
 
 " I've been looking into things a bit, Excellency," 
 said Godfrey. 
 
 I quite believed that. The deputation of carters said 
 the same thing in other words.
 
 4* 
 
 " And you'll find yourself in an awkward place one 
 of these days if that fellow Crossan is allowed to go 
 on as he's going." 
 
 " I hope you're not going to drag up that dispute 
 about the carters, Godfrey. I'm sick of it." 
 
 The dispute about the carters is really an unpleasant 
 business. As originally organized there were eight 
 Protestant carters and four Roman Catholics. A year 
 ago Crossan dismissed the four Roman Catholic cart- 
 ers, and one of the Protestants who was suspected of 
 religious indifference. Their places were filled by five 
 Orangemen of the most determined kind. Now the 
 profits of this carting business are considerable. The 
 five men who were dismissed appealed to Godfrey. 
 Godfrey laid their case before me. I gathered that 
 Godfrey had a high opinion of the outcasts who always 
 spoke to him with the respect due to his position. He 
 had a low opinion of the five interlopers who were 
 men of rude speech and democratic independence of 
 manner. I was foolish enough to speak to Crossan 
 about the matter. He met me with a blunt assertion 
 that it was impossible to trust what he called " Pa- 
 pishes." There, as a lover of peace rather than justice, 
 I wanted to let the matter rest; but Godfrey took up 
 the subject again and again in the course of the fol- 
 lowing year. He persisted, not out of any love for 
 justice though this once he was on the side of justice, 
 but simply out of hatred of Crossan. 
 
 " It's not only the dismissal of those carters," said 
 Godfrey. " There's a great deal more behind that. 
 There's something going on which I don't understand." 
 
 " If you don't understand it," I said, " you can't ex- 
 pect me to."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 49 
 
 " Look here, Excellency, you remember the time that 
 yacht of Conroy's, the Finola, was in here ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. You went and left my cards on 
 Bob Power." 
 
 " I'm very sorry now that I did. There's something 
 fishy about that yacht. What was she doing on the 
 night she was here ? " 
 
 " Coaling," I said ; " I don't see why I should dis- 
 miss Crossan because Conroy's yacht came in here for 
 coal." 
 
 " She wasn't coaling," said Godfrey. 
 
 I knew that, of course; so I said nothing, but left 
 Godfrey to develope his grievance whatever it was. 
 
 " Ever since that night," said Godfrey, " there has 
 been something or other going on in the yard behind 
 the stores. Those carters are in it, whatever it is, and 
 a lot more men, fishermen and young farmers. They're 
 up there every night." 
 
 " Probably dancing," I said. 
 
 " Much more likely to be drinking." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't talk nonsense, Godfrey. You 
 know perfectly well that the store has not got a licence, 
 and there's no drink sold there. Besides Crossan is a 
 fanatical teetotaller." 
 
 " That wouldn't stop him," said Godfrey, " if he 
 could sell the stuff cheap and make money on it ; if " 
 here he sank his voice " if it hadn't paid duty." 
 
 Now Crossan is one of those Christians who has 
 added to the original Ten Commandments a Mohamme- 
 dan prohibition of alcohol in any form. Godfrey, I have 
 no doubt, would break any of the commandments which 
 he recognized, if he saw his way to making a small profit 
 on the sin. But I did not think that even a 25 per cent.
 
 50 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 dividend would tempt Crossan to disregard his self- 
 imposed prohibition of alcohol. 
 
 " That's all nonsense," I said. " In the first place the 
 Finola didn't come in here to land a cargo of smuggled 
 goods." 
 
 " Then what did she come for ? " 
 
 I did not know, so I ignored Godfrey's question. 
 
 " And in the second place Crossan wouldn't debauch 
 the whole place by making the men drunk night after 
 night on smuggled spirits. Why, only three weeks ago 
 he spoke to me seriously about the glass of claret I 
 drink at dinner. He did it quite respectfully and en- 
 tirely for my good. I respected him for it." 
 
 " He's up to some mischief," said Godfrey, sulkily, 
 " and it won't be too pleasant for you, Excellency, 
 when the Inland Revenue people find out, and you are 
 let in for a prosecution. I tell you that every night for 
 the last week men have been going up to that store after 
 dark, twenty or thirty of them, truculent, disrespectful 
 blackguards out of the Orange Lodge. I've watched 
 them." 
 
 " Did you watch them coming out again ? " 
 
 " I did, twice," said Godfrey. " They didn't go home 
 till nearly one o'clock in the morning. I couldn't stop 
 up every night, so I only saw them twice." 
 
 " Well," I said, " were they drunk? " 
 
 " No," said Godfrey, unwillingly, " they were not. 
 They walked quite straight." 
 
 " That explodes your theory then. If they had been 
 drinking smuggled spirits for hours and hours, they 
 would have been drunk." 
 
 " They were at some mischief," said Godfrey. 
 
 " They were probably getting up a concert," I said.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 51 
 
 " No, they weren't, for " 
 
 " Look here, Godfrey," I said, " I've listened to you 
 pretty patiently for a long time; but I really cannot 
 spare you the whole morning. If you have anything 
 to do I wish you'd go and do it. If you haven't you'd 
 better go to bed and sleep off your absurd suspicions." 
 
 One has to speak very plainly to Godfrey. Hints 
 are simply wasted on him. Even after my last re- 
 mark he hesitated for a moment. Then he turned and 
 went. 
 
 I felt in the mood to write a short story which I 
 have had in my mind for some time. I very often 
 write short stories; but have never yet got an editor 
 who cares to print any of them. The one I had in 
 my mind when Godfrey left me was, however, likely 
 to be particularly good. It was to be the autobiography 
 of a murderer; not an ordinary murderer who slays 
 through desire of gain or in obedience to an inborn 
 criminal instinct. My murderer was to be a highly 
 respectable, God-fearing man, a useful citizen, a good 
 father, a man of blameless life and almost blameless 
 thoughts, generous, high-principled, beloved. He was 
 to slay his victim with one of the fire-irons on his 
 hearth. The murderous impulse was to take possession 
 of him quite suddenly but with absolutely irresistible 
 force. He was to kill a man who had been boring him 
 for hours. My intention was to write the story in 
 such a way as to win public sympathy for my mur- 
 derer and to make every one feel that the dead man 
 deserved his fate. I meant to model the dead man on 
 my nephew Godfrey. 
 
 I still think that a very good short story might be 
 written along those lines, but I doubt whether I shall
 
 52 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 ever write it. I wrote about two thousand words that 
 morning before I was interrupted by the luncheon gong. 
 I was unable to go on writing after luncheon because 
 the conversation I had with Marion distracted my mind 
 and turned my thoughts to another subject. 
 
 " Father," she said, " do you think that Mr. Power 
 could really have been smuggling things in that yacht ? " 
 
 " No," I said ; " he couldn't possibly." 
 
 " It's very queer," said Marion. 
 
 "What's queer?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing. Only this morning Rose had a new 
 gold brooch, quite a handsome one." 
 
 Rose is Marion's maid, a pleasant and I believe ef- 
 ficient girl of agreeable appearance. 
 
 " Even if Mr. Power was smuggling," I said, " it's 
 exceedingly unlikely that he'd bring in a cargo of gold 
 brooches to give to the servants in the district." 
 
 "Oh, I didn't mean that," said Marion. "In fact 
 Rose told me that her young man gave her the brooch. 
 He's a very nice, steady young fellow with a freckly 
 face and he drives one of the carts for Crossan." 
 
 He must, I suspect, be the same young man who ac- 
 cused Godfrey of being a spy. If so he is evidently a 
 judge of character, and his selection of Rose as a sweet- 
 heart is a high compliment to her. 
 
 " He promised her a gold bracelet next week," said 
 Marion, " and Rose is very mysterious about where he 
 gets the money." 
 
 " As long as he doesn't steal it from me," I said, " I 
 don't care where he gets it." 
 
 " It's very queer all the same. Rose says that a lot 
 of the young men in the village have heaps of money
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 53 
 
 lately, and I thought it might have something to do with 
 smuggling." 
 
 This is what distracted my mind from the story of 
 the man who murdered Godfrey. I could not help won- 
 dering where Rose's young man and the others got 
 their money. They were, I assumed, the same young 
 men who frequented the co-operation store during the 
 midnight hours. It was, of course, possible that they 
 might earn the money there by some form of honest 
 labour. But I could not imagine that Crossan had 
 started one of those ridiculous industries by means of 
 which Government Boards and philanthropic ladies 
 think they will add to the wealth of the Irish peasants. 
 Besides, even if Crossan had suddenly developed symp- 
 toms of kindly idiocy, neither wood-carving or lace- 
 making could possibly have made Rose's freckly faced 
 young man rich enough to buy a gold brooch. The 
 thing puzzled me nearly as much as did the Finola's 
 midnight activity.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ALL competent critics appear to agree that art ought 
 to be kept entirely distinct from moral purposes. 
 A picture meant to urge us on to virtue and there 
 are such pictures is bad art. A play or a novel with 
 a purpose stands condemned at once. The same canon 
 of criticism must, I suppose, apply to parties of all 
 kinds, dinner-parties, garden-parties, or house-parties. 
 A good host or hostess ought, like the painter and the 
 novelist, to aim at making her work beautiful in itself ; 
 and should not have behind the hospitality a cause of 
 any kind, charitable or political. 
 
 I myself dissent, humbly, of course, from this view. 
 Pictures like Time, Death and Judgment I take it 
 as an example of the kind of picture which is meant 
 to make us good because I once saw it hung up in a 
 church appeal to me strongly. I do not like novels 
 which aim at a reform of the marriage laws; but that 
 is only because sex problems bore me horribly. I enjoy 
 novels written with any other purpose. I hate parties, 
 such as those which Godfrey instigates me to give, 
 which have no object except that of merely being par- 
 ties, the bare collection together of human beings in 
 their best clothes. I was, therefore, greatly pleased 
 when I discovered that my original guess was right and 
 that Lady Moyne's party was definitely political. I 
 found this out when I arrived in the drawing-room 
 before dinner. I was a little too early and there was 
 
 54
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 55 
 
 no one in the room except Moyne. He shook hands 
 with me apologetically and this gave me a clue to the 
 nature of the entertainment before me. He dislikes 
 politics greatly, and would be much happier than he is 
 if he were allowed to hunt and fish instead of attend- 
 ing to such business as is carried on in the House of 
 Lords. But a man cannot expect to get all he wants 
 in life. Moyne has a particularly charming and clever 
 wife who enjoys politics immensely. The price he 
 pays for her is the loss of a certain amount of sport and 
 the endurance of long periods of enforced legislative 
 activity. 
 
 " I ought to have told you before you came," he said, 
 " that well, you know that my lady is very strongly 
 opposed to this Home Rule Bill." 
 
 Moyne is fifteen years or so older than his wife. 
 He shows his respect for her by the pretty old-fash- 
 ioned way in which he always speaks of her as " my 
 lady." 
 
 " The fact is," he went on, " that the people we have 
 with us at present " 
 
 "Babberly?" I asked. 
 
 Moyne nodded sorrowfully. Babberly is the most 
 terrific of all Unionist orators. If his speeches were 
 set to music, the orchestra would necessarily consist 
 entirely of cornets, trumpets and drums. No one could 
 express the spirit of Babberly's oratory on stringed in- 
 struments. Flutes would be ridiculous. 
 
 " Of course," said Moyne, still apologetically, " it 
 really is rather a crisis you know." 
 
 " It always is," I said. " I've lived through seventy 
 or eighty of them." 
 
 " But this is much worse than most," he said. " A
 
 56 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 man called Malcolmson arrived this afternoon, a col- 
 onel of some sort. Was in the artillery, I think." 
 
 " You read his letter in The Times, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did. But I needn't tell you, Kilmore, that 
 that kind of thing is all talk. My wife " 
 
 " I fancy Lady Moyne would look well as vivandiere" 
 I said, " marching in front of an ambulance waggon 
 with a red cross on it." 
 
 Moyne looked pained. He is very fond of Lady 
 Moyne and very proud of her. This is quite natural. 
 I should be proud of her too if she were my wife. 
 
 " Her idea," said Lord Moyne, " is " 
 
 Just then our Dean came into the room. His pres- 
 ence emphasised the highly political nature of the party. 
 Unless she had asked Crossan, Lady Moyne could not 
 have got hold of any one of more influence with our 
 north of Ireland Protestant democracy. The Dean 
 cannot possibly be accustomed to the kind of semi- 
 regal state which is kept up at Castle Affey. I should 
 be surprised to hear that he habitually dresses for din- 
 ner. It was only natural, therefore, that he should 
 be a little overawed by the immensity of the rooms and 
 the number of footmen who lurk about the halls and 
 passages. When he began explaining to me the extreme 
 iniquity of the recent Vatican legislation about mixed 
 marriages, he spoke in a quite low voice. As a rule 
 this subject moves the Dean to stridency; but the 
 heavy magnificence of Castle Affey crushed him into 
 a kind of whisper. This encouraged me. If the Dean 
 had been in his usual condition of vigour, I should 
 not have ventured to do anything except agree with 
 him heartily. Feeling that I might never catch him 
 in a subdued mood again, I seized a chance of expressing
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 57 
 
 my own views on the mixed marriage question. It 
 seems to me that the whole difficulty about the validity 
 of these unions might be got over by importing a few 
 priests of the Greek Church into Ireland. The Vatican, 
 I believe, recognizes that these Orientals really are 
 priests. The Protestants could not reasonably object 
 to their ministrations since they refuse to acknowledge 
 the jurisdiction of the Pope. A mixed marriage per- 
 formed by one of them would, therefore, be valid in 
 the opinion of the ecclesiastical advisers of, let us say, 
 the bridegroom. It would be quite unobjectionable to 
 those responsible for the soul of the bride. I put my 
 plan as persuasively as I could; but the Dean did not 
 seem to see any merit in it. Indeed I have never met 
 any one who did. That is the great drawback to trying 
 to help the Irish nation out of its difficulties. No one 
 will ever agree to a reasonable compromise. 
 
 I took Lady Moyne in to dinner and enjoyed myself 
 very much. She was as indeed she always is 
 beautifully dressed. Although she talked a good deal 
 to Babberly who sat on the other side of her, she left 
 me with the impression that I was the person who 
 really interested her, and that she only turned occa- 
 sionally to her other neighbour from a sense of duty. 
 Babberly talked about Unionist clubs and the vigorous 
 way in which the members of them were doing dumb 
 bell exercises, so as to be in thoroughly good training 
 when the Home Rule Bill became law. The subject 
 evidently interested him very much. He has a long 
 white beard of the kind described as patriarchal. When 
 he reaches exciting passages in his public speeches, and 
 even when he is saying something emphatic in private 
 life, his beard wags up and down. On this occasion
 
 58 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 it rose and fell like a foamy wave. That was what 
 convinced me that he was really interested in the ac- 
 tivity of the Unionist clubs. Lady Moyne smiled at him 
 in her bewilderingly bewitching way, and then turned 
 round and smiled at me. 
 
 " But," I said, " do you actually mean to go out and 
 do battle?" 
 
 " It won't be necessary," said Babberly. " Once the 
 English people understand that we mean to die rather 
 than see our lives and liberties " 
 
 " Nowadays," said Lady Moyne, " when the indus- 
 trial proletariate is breaking free from all control, it 
 is a splendid thing for us to have a cause in which we 
 take the lead, which will bind our working classes to 
 us, and make them loyal to those who are after all their 
 best friends and their natural leaders." 
 
 I quite saw Lady Moyne's point. Crossan would not 
 be at all likely to follow her or regard her as his best 
 friend in ordinary matters. He might even resent her 
 interference with his affairs. But on the subject of 
 Home Rule Crossan would certainly follow any one 
 who took his side of the great controversy. If Lady 
 Moyne wore an orange sash over her pretty dresses 
 Crossan would cheer her. While Home Rule remained 
 a real danger he would refrain from asking why Lord 
 Moyne should spend as much on a bottle of champagne 
 for dinner, as would feed the children of a labourer for 
 a week. It did not surprise me to find that Lady 
 Moyne was clever enough to understand Crossan. I 
 wanted to know whether Babberly understood. 
 
 " But," I said to him, " suppose that the men you are 
 enrolling take what you say seriously "
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 59 
 
 " I assure you, Lord Kilmore," said Babberly, " we 
 are quite serious." 
 
 I could hear Malcolmson at the other end of the 
 table explaining to Moyne a scheme for establishing 
 a number of artillery forts on the side of the Cave 
 Hill above Belfast Lough. His idea apparently, was 
 to sink any British warship which was ill-advised 
 enough to anchor there with a view to imposing Home 
 Rule on us. Malcolmson, at all events, was quite seri- 
 ous. 
 
 " It will never come to fighting," said Babberly 
 again. " After all, the great heart of the English peo- 
 ple is sound. They will never consent to see their 
 brethren and co-religionists handed over " 
 
 Lady Moyne turned to me and smiled again. I am 
 sixty years of age, but her smile gave me so much 
 pleasure that I failed to hear the rest of what Babberly 
 said. 
 
 When at the end of dinner Lady Moyne left us, we 
 congregated round the other end of the table, and every- 
 body talked loud ; everybody, that is, except Moyne and 
 me. Moyne looked to me very much as if he wanted 
 to go to sleep. He blinked a good deal, and when he 
 got his eyes open seemed to hold them in that state 
 with considerable effort. I did not feel sleepy, and 
 became more and more interested as the conversation 
 round me grew more violent. Babberly talked about 
 a campaign among the English constituencies. He 
 had a curious and quite pathetic faith in the gullibility 
 of the British working-man. Nobody listened much to 
 Babberly. The Dean prosed on about the effects of 
 the Ne Temere decree. We all said that we agreed
 
 60 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 with him, and then stopped listening. Malcolmson got 
 on to field guns, and had an elaborate plan for train- 
 ing gunners without actual practice. Babberly did not 
 like this talk about artillery. He kept on saying that 
 we should never get as far as that. A Mr. Cahoon, 
 who came from Belfast, and spoke with the same kind 
 of .accent as McNeice, prophesied doleful things about 
 the paralyzing of business under a Home Rule Parlia- 
 ment. What interested me was, not the conversation 
 which beat fiercely on my ears, but the personal ques- 
 tion, Why had Lady Moyne invited me to this party ? 
 
 I am constitutionally incapable of becoming excited 
 about politics, and have therefore the reputation, quite 
 undeserved, of being that singular creature, a Liberal 
 peer. Why, being the kind of Gallio I am, I should 
 have been, like a second Daniel, thrown among these 
 lions, I could not understand. They were not the least 
 likely to convert me to their own desperate intensity 
 of feeling. If Lady Moyne wanted to convert me a far 
 better plan would have been to invite me to her house 
 after the politicians had gone away. Circe, I imagine, 
 did not attract new lovers by parading those whom she 
 had already turned into swine. Nor could I suppose 
 that I had been brought to Castle Affey in order to con- 
 vert people like Malcolmson to pacific ways of thought. 
 In the first place, Lady Moyne did not want him con- 
 verted. He and his like were a valuable asset to the 
 Conservative party. And even if she had wanted them 
 converted I was not the man to do it. I am mildly 
 reasonable in my outlook upon life. To reason with 
 Malcolmson is much the same as if a man, meaning 
 well, were to offer a Seidlitz powder to an enraged 
 hippopotamus.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 61 
 
 It was not until next day that I found a solution of 
 my problem. Moyne buttonholed me after breakfast, 
 and invited me, rather wistfully I thought, to go round 
 the stables with him. He wanted my opinion of a new 
 filly. I went, pursued by the sound of the Dean's 
 voice. 
 
 He was telling the story of a famous case of wife de- 
 sertion brought about by the Ne Temere decree. He 
 was telling it to Cahoon, the Belfast manufacturer, who 
 must, I am sure, have heard it several times before. 
 
 I used, long ago, to be a good judge of horses. I 
 still retained my eye for a neat filly. Moyne's latest 
 acquisition was more than neat. I stroked her neck, 
 and patted her flanks with genuine appreciation. 
 Moyne looked quite cheerful and babbled pleasantly 
 about hunting. Then Lady Moyne came through the 
 door of the stable. I was very glad to see her. Her 
 dress, a simple brown tweed, suited her admirably, and 
 her smile, less radiant, perhaps, than it was the night 
 before when set off by her diamonds, was most attrac- 
 tive. Moyne, too, though I knew that he did not want 
 to talk politics, was glad to see her. She came into 
 the horse-box, and fondled the filly. Then she sighed. 
 
 " What a lot we have to go through for a good 
 cause ! " she said. " Those terrible men ! " 
 
 " Heavy going," said Moyne, " that kind of thing at 
 breakfast. Let's take out the new car, and go for a 
 spin." 
 
 " I should love to," she said, " but I must not. I only 
 ran out to speak to you for a minute, Lord Kilmore." 
 
 Her eyes led me to believe at dinner the night before 
 that I was the one man among her guests that she 
 really wanted to talk to. Now her lips said the same
 
 62 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 thing plainly. I did not believe it, of course; but I 
 felt quite as much gratified as if it had been true. 
 
 " Mr. Conroy comes this afternoon," she said. 
 
 " That millionaire fellow ? " said Moyne, who was 
 evidently not well up in the list of his visitors. 
 
 " And I want you to take him in hand," said Lady 
 Moyne to me not to her husband. " He's very clever, 
 and it's most important to get him interested in our 
 movement." 
 
 " You'd much better take him in hand yourself," I 
 said. " If any one could interest him* " 
 
 " I shall, of course ; but I can't always be with him. 
 I'm dreadfully afraid that if Mr. Babberly talks to 
 him but you know what Mr. Babberly is. He's 
 splendid in Parliament and on a platform; perfectly 
 splendid. We've nobody like him. But he might not 
 quite suit Mr. Conroy. Then poor dear Colonel Mal- 
 colmson does talk such nonsense. Of course it's very 
 good in its way, and I do hope the Liberals will lay 
 to heart what he says about fighting before it's too 
 late ' 
 
 " Mr. Conroy is a business man," I said, " and has a 
 reputation for shrewdness." 
 
 " That's just it," said Lady Moyne, " and the others 
 the Dean and that curious Mr. Cahoon. They're 
 dears, perfect dears in the way they stand up for the 
 Union and the Empire, but " She shrugged her 
 shoulders, and smiled. 
 
 "I quite understand," I said; "but, after all, I'm 
 rather an old bore, too." 
 
 " You ! " said Lady Moyne. " You're a literary man, 
 and that's so rare, you know, in our class. And, be- 
 sides, you're a Liberal. I don't mean in any offensive
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 63 
 
 sense of the word; only just that you're not a party 
 man. I must run away now ; but you will do your best 
 with Mr. Conroy, won't you? We want a big sub- 
 scription from him." 
 
 The Dean caught me a little later in the morning, 
 and, though I told him I had letters to write, he in- 
 sisted on explaining to me that, as a clergyman, he con- 
 sidered it wrong to take any active part in politics. 
 
 " The Church," he said, " cannot allow herself to be- 
 come attached to any party. She must stand above and 
 beyond party, a witness to divine and eternal righteous- 
 ness in public affairs." 
 
 I am, on the whole, glad that I heard the Dean say 
 this. I should certainly have believed he was taking 
 a side in politics, if he had not solemnly assured me 
 that he was not. I might even have thought, taking 
 at their face value certain resolutions passed by its 
 General Synod, that the Church was, more or less, on 
 the side of the Unionists, if the Dean had not ex- 
 plained to me that she only appeared to be on their 
 side because they happened to be always in the right, 
 but that she would be quite as much on the side of the 
 Liberals if they would only drop their present pro- 
 gramme which happened in every respect to be morally 
 wrong. This cleared my mind for me, and I felt quite 
 ready to face Conroy at luncheon, and dispel any diffi- 
 culties he might feel about the Church and politics.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MR. CONROY arrived at luncheon-time, and Lady 
 Moyne took him in hand at once. I watched her 
 talking to him during the meal and afterwards when 
 they walked together round the lawn. I came to the 
 conclusion that Lady Moyne would have no difficulty 
 in obtaining any subscription she wanted from the mil- 
 lionaire. They were, of course, intimate with each 
 other. Lady Moyne had been Conroy's guest in the 
 days when his London house was a centre of social life. 
 She had sailed with him on the Finola. But this was 
 the first time she had him at Castle Affey ; and there- 
 fore the first time he had seen Lady Moyne in her char- 
 acter as hostess. It is not to be wondered at that he 
 yielded to her charm. Like all women of real capacity 
 Lady Moyne was at her best in her own house. 
 
 But she was too clever a hostess to devote herself 
 entirely to one guest. She took Babberly for a drive 
 later in the afternoon and I felt that my time had come. 
 I determined to be true to my trust and to make myself 
 agreeable to Conroy. Unfortunately he did not seem to 
 want my company. He went off for a long walk with 
 Malcolmson. This surprised me. I should have sup- 
 posed beforehand that talk about artillery would have 
 bored Conroy; and Malcolmson, since this Home Rule 
 struggle began, has talked of nothing else. 
 
 I spent the afternoon with Mr. Cahoon, and we 
 talked about Home Rule, of course. 
 
 64
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 65 
 
 " What those fellows want," he said, " is to get their 
 hands into our pockets. But it won't do." 
 
 " Those fellows " were, plainly, the Nationalist lead- 
 ers. 
 
 "Taxation?" I said. 
 
 " Belfast will be the milch cow of the Dublin Parlia- 
 ment," said Cahoon. " Money will be wanted to feed 
 paupers and pay priests in the south and west. We're 
 the only people who have any money." 
 
 I had never before come in contact with a man like 
 Cahoon, and I was very much interested in him. His 
 contempt, not only for our fellow-countrymen in Lein- 
 ster, Munster and Connacht, but for all the other inhab- 
 itants of the British Isles was absolute. He had a way 
 of pronouncing final judgment on all the problems of life 
 which fascinated me. 
 
 " That's all well enough in its way," he would say ; 
 " but it won't do in Belfast. We're business men." 
 
 I think he said those words five times in the course 
 of the afternoon, and each time they filled me with 
 fresh delight. If the man had been a fool I should 
 not have been interested in him. If he had been a 
 simple crude money maker, a Stock Exchange Im- 
 perialist, for instance, I should have understood him 
 and yawned. But he was not a fool. A man cannot 
 be a fool who manages successfully a large business, 
 who keeps in touch with the swift vicissitudes of mod- 
 ern international commerce, who has organized into a 
 condition of high efficiency an industrial army of sev- 
 eral thousand working-men and women. And Mr. Ca- 
 hoon, in a curious hard way, was touched with ideal- 
 isms; I discovered, accidentally, that he devotes his 
 spare time on Saturdays to the instruction of young
 
 66 THE RED HAND} OF ULSTER 
 
 men in cricket and football. His Sunday afternoons 
 he gives to an immense Bible-class for boys of fifteen 
 or sixteen. He has built and maintains, on the sole 
 condition that he does not actually lose money by it, 
 a kind of model village in a suburban district of Bel- 
 fast. In order to look after this village properly he 
 gets up at five o'clock in the morning on three days 
 in the week. In winter, when his social work is in 
 full swing, he spends almost all his evenings at a large 
 Working Men's club. He spends his summer holidays 
 in the seaside camp of The Boys' Brigade. It would 
 be difficult to find a man who crams more work into 
 what are supposed to be his leisure hours. He has, 
 of course, little time for reading and he never travels. 
 His devotion to good works leaves him no opportunity 
 for culture, and accounts for the fact that he believes 
 the things which Babberly says on platforms. He 
 would, I did not actually try him with the subject, but 
 I have no doubt he would, have brushed the philosophy 
 of Emmanuel Kant into the world's waste-basket with 
 his unvarying formula: It wouldn't do in Belfast. 
 They are business men there. 
 
 We worried on about his fear of the over-taxation 
 of Belfast and the industrial North. I tried to get 
 from him some definite account of the exact taxes 
 which he feared. I tried to get him to explain how 
 he proposed to fight, against whom he intended to fight, 
 who might be expected to fight on his side. I do not 
 think he got angry with me for my persistency, but 
 his contempt for me steadily increased. I am not a 
 business man and so I could not possibly, so he 
 hinted, understand how they feel about the matter in 
 Belfast.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 67 
 
 " But do you think," I said, " that your work-men 
 will go out and be shot in order to save you from paying 
 an extra penny in the pound income tax ? That's what 
 it comes to, you know, and I don't see why they should 
 do it. They don't pay income tax, or for that matter 
 death duties." 
 
 Cahoon looked me full in the face for nearly half 
 a minute without replying. Then he took out his watch 
 and looked at it. Then he took me by the arm and led 
 me towards the yard. 
 
 " Did you ever see the Green Loaney Scutching 
 Mill? "he said. 
 
 I had never seen any scutching mill. I have only a 
 vague idea of what a scutching mill is. 
 
 " It'll not be more than twenty miles from this," said 
 Cahoon. " And in my car we'll do it and be back for 
 dinner." 
 
 I did not particularly want to spend the rest of the 
 afternoon rushing about the country in Gaboon's motor 
 car. I preferred to stay quietly on the Castle Affey 
 lawn and talk about Home Rule. 
 
 " But about the working-man," I said, " and the pros- 
 pect of his fighting " 
 
 " You'll be better able to talk about that," said Ca- 
 hoon, " when you've seen the man I'm going to take you 
 to. Seeing's believing." 
 
 I was, of course, quite willing to go with Cahoon if 
 he would really show me a citizen soldier in a scutching 
 mill. We got out the motor car and started. 
 
 " He's a man by the name of McConkey," said Ca- 
 hoon. 
 
 " A good name," I said. " One expects something 
 from a McConkey."
 
 68 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 Gaboon did not say anything for about ten minutes. 
 Then he went on 
 
 " McConkey is foreman in the mill." 
 
 " The scutching mill I " I asked. 
 
 It was, of course, the scutching mill. I only asked 
 the question in order to keep up the conversation. The 
 long silences were embarrassing. Cahoon did not an- 
 swer me. At the end of another quarter of an hour of 
 furious driving he gave me a little further information 
 about McConkey. 
 
 " He neither drinks nor smokes." 
 
 This led me to think that he might be some relation to 
 my friend Crossan, possibly a cousin. 
 
 " I happen to know," said Cahoon a little later, " that 
 he has upwards of 500 saved." 
 
 Undoubtedly McConkey and Crossan are close rela- 
 tions, brothers-in-law perhaps. 
 
 We reached the Green Loaney Scutching Mill at about 
 half-past five o'clock. Cahoon, who seemed to know 
 all about the establishment, led me through some very 
 dusty purlieus. McConkey, when we came upon him, 
 did not seem particularly pleased to see Cahoon. He 
 looked at me with suspicious malignity. 
 
 " There's a gentleman here," said Cahoon, " who 
 wants to know whether you mean to fight rather than 
 submit to Home Rule." 
 
 " Aye," said McConkey, " I do." 
 
 Then he looked me square in the face without wink- 
 ing. Cahoon did the same thing exactly. Neither of 
 them spoke. It was clearly my turn to say something ; 
 but with four hard grey eyes piercing my skin I found 
 it difficult to think of a remark. In the end I said : 
 
 "Really?"
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 69 
 
 They both continued to stare at me. Then McCon- 
 key broke the silence again. 
 
 " You'll no be a Papist ? " he said. 
 
 " Certainly not," I replied. " In fact I am a church- 
 warden." 
 
 McConkey thrust his hand deep into a hip pocket in 
 the back of his trousers and drew out a somewhat soiled 
 packet of yellow tracing paper. 
 
 " Look at thon," he said. 
 
 I unfolded the tracing paper and found on it draw- 
 ings of a machine gun. Cahoon peered over my shoul- 
 der. 
 
 " She's a bonny wee thing," said McConkey. 
 
 She looked to me large and murderous. Cahoon ex- 
 pressed his admiration for her, so I said nothing. 
 
 " I'll no be that badly off for something to fight with," 
 said McConkey, " when the time comes." 
 
 " Do you mean to say," I said, " that you've bought 
 that weapon ? " 
 
 " I haven't her bought yet," said McConkey ; " but I 
 have the money by me." 
 
 " And you actually mean " I said. 
 
 " Ay. I do." 
 
 I looked at Cahoon. He was still studying the draw- 
 ings of the gun. 
 
 " It'll be queer," said McConkey, slowly, " if she 
 doesna' land a few of them in hell before they have 
 me catched." 
 
 I turned to Cahoon again. 
 
 "Do you really think," I said, "that he ?" 
 
 " We're business men," said Cahoon, " and we don't 
 throw away our money." 
 
 " But," I said, " who are you going 1 to shoot at ? It
 
 7 o THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 would be silly to attack a tax collector with a gun like 
 that. I don't see who " 
 
 " Oh," said Cahoon, " don't fret about that. We'll 
 find somebody to shoot at." 
 
 " There'll be plenty," said McConkey, " when the time 
 comes." 
 
 " The real difficulty," said Cahoon, " is that " 
 
 " They'll no be wanting to stand up till us," said Mc- 
 Conkey. 
 
 The relations of Capital with Labour are, I under- 
 stand, strained in other parts of the United Kingdom. 
 Here, with Home Rule on the horizon, they seem to be 
 actually cordial. There is certainly a good deal to 
 be said for Lady Moyne's policy. So long as Cahoon 
 and McConkey have a common taste for making do- 
 mestic pets of machine guns they are not likely to fall 
 out over such minor matters as wages and hours of 
 work. 
 
 I had a good deal to think of as Cahoon drove me 
 back to Castle Afrey. My main feeling was one of great 
 personal thankfulness. I shall never, I hope, take part 
 in a battle. If I do I hope I shall be found fighting 
 against some properly organized army, the men and 
 officers of which have taken up the business of killing 
 in a lofty professional spirit. I cannot imagine any- 
 thing more likely to shatter my nerve than to be pitted 
 against men like McConkey, who neither drink nor 
 smoke, but save and spend their savings on machine 
 guns. The regular soldier has his guns bought for him 
 with other people's money. He does not mind much 
 if no gory dividend is earned. McConkey, on the other 
 hand, spends his own money, and being a business man,
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 71 
 
 will hate to see it wasted. He would not be satisfied, 
 I imagine, with less than fifty corpses per cent, as a re- 
 turn on his expenditure. 
 
 At dinner that evening Conroy made a suggestion for 
 our evening's entertainment. 
 
 " Lady Moyne," he said, " ought to read us the 
 speech which she is to make next week to the Unionist 
 women." 
 
 I had never heard of the Unionist women before, and 
 knew nothing of their wish to be spoken to. The Dean 
 assured me that they were numerous and quite as enthu- 
 siastic as their husbands and brothers. Cahoon said 
 that he was giving his mill hands a half holiday in order 
 that the girls might go to listen to Lady Moyne. Bab- 
 berly struck in with a characteristic speech. 
 
 " The influence of women," he said, " can hardly be 
 over-estimated. We must never forget that the most 
 impressionable years of a man's life are those during 
 which he is learning to say his prayers beside his moth- 
 er's knee." 
 
 This, as I recognized was a mere paraphrase of the 
 proverb which states that the hand which rocks the 
 cradle rules the world. The secret of Babberly's great 
 success as an orator is that he has a striking power of 
 putting platitudes into new words. 
 
 I ventured to suggest that, so far as the present po- 
 litical situation was concerned it was hardly worth while 
 trying to get at the children who were learning to say 
 their prayers. The Home Rule Bill would be either 
 rejected or passed long before any of that generation 
 had votes. Lady Moyne was good enough to smile at 
 me ; but Babberly felled me at once.
 
 72 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " The women whom we expect to influence," he said, 
 " have fathers, brothers and husbands as well as young 
 children." 
 
 After dinner we had the speech. A secretary, who 
 had once been Lady Moyne's governess and still wore 
 pince-nez, brought a quantity of type-written matter 
 into the drawing-room. Moyne wanted me to slip away 
 with him to the billiard room; but I refused to do so. 
 I wanted to watch Lady Moyne making her speech. 
 I am glad that I resisted his appeal. Lady Moyne 
 not only read us the speech. She delivered it to us, 
 treated us, indeed, to a rehearsal, I might even call it 
 a dress rehearsal, for she described at some length the 
 clothes she intended to wear. They must have been the 
 most sumptuous in her wardrobe. 
 
 " The poor dears," she said, " want something to 
 brighten their lives. Besides, they'll take it as a com- 
 pliment to them if I'm like Solomon in all his glory." 
 
 I gathered from this remark that the audience was 
 to consist mainly of the wives and sisters of McConkey 
 and other men of the same class. Cahoon's wife, if he 
 had one, would not require a display of Lady Moyne's 
 best clothes to seal her attachment to the Union. 
 
 The speech was an uncommonly good one. A phrase 
 in it frequently repeated, appealed to me very strongly. 
 Lady Moyne spoke about " our men." I do not know 
 why it is, but the phrase " our women " as used for 
 instance by military officers who have been to India, 
 always strikes me as singularly offensive. It suggests 
 seraglios, purdahs and other institutions by which 
 Turks, and Orientals generally, assert and maintain the 
 rights of property with regard to the other sex. " Our 
 men," on the other hand, is redolent of sentimental do
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 73 
 
 mesticity. I never hear it without thinking of women 
 who are mothers and makers of men ; who sew on 
 trouser buttons and cook savoury messes for those who 
 are fighting the battle of life for them in a rough world, 
 sustained by an abiding vision of noble womanhood 
 and the sanctity of home. It is an extraordinarily ap- 
 pealing phrase and Lady Moyne used it for all it was 
 worth. As addressed by her to wives and sisters of 
 the Belfast working-men, it had a further value. The 
 plural possessive pronoun bracketed McConkey with 
 Lord Moyne. McConkey's wife, assuming for the mo- 
 ment that he had not abstained from matrimony as he 
 had from tobacco, shared his joys and sorrows, his 
 hopes and fears, heartened him for his daily toil, would 
 join no doubt in polishing the muzzle, of the machine 
 gun. So Lady Moyne in her gorgeous raiment, sustained 
 Lord Moyne, her man. That was the suggestion of 
 the possessive pronoun, and the audience was not al- 
 lowed to miss it. Poor Moyne did miss it, for he was 
 nearly asleep in a chair. But McConkey's wife would 
 not. Her heart would glow with a sense that she and 
 Lady Moyne were sisters in their anxious care for the 
 men entrusted to them. 
 
 That single phrase made such a violent emotional 
 appeal to me that I missed all the rest of the speech. 
 Each time I began to recover a little from hearing it 
 and was prepared to give my attention to something 
 else, Lady Moyne used to repeat it, and then I was 
 hypnotized again. I have no doubt, however, that the 
 speech was a powerful appeal for the maintenance of 
 the Union. Conroy said so afterwards and Babberly 
 entirely agreed with him. The Dean suggested that 
 something might be put in about the sanctity of the
 
 74 
 
 marriage tie, a matter of particular importance to 
 women and likely to be seriously affected by the passing 
 of a Home Rule Bill. Lady Moyne thanked him for 
 calling her attention to the omission. The secretary, 
 who had once been a governess, adjusted her pince-nez 
 and took a note. 
 
 In the smoking-room that evening Conroy took com- 
 mand of the conversation, and for the first time since 
 I arrived at Castle Affey we got off politics. He told 
 us a good deal about how he made his fortune. Most 
 men who have made fortunes enjoy talking about how 
 they made them. But their stories are nearly always 
 most uninteresting. My impression is that they do 
 not themselves understand how they came to be rich. 
 But Conroy understood, or at all events thought he un- 
 derstood, his own success. He believed that he was 
 rich because he had, more than other men, a love of 
 the excitement which comes with risk. He had the 
 spirit of the true adventurer, the man who pursues 
 novelty and danger for their own sakes. Every story 
 he told us illustrated and was meant to illustrate this 
 side of his character. He despised the rest of us, es- 
 pecially me perhaps. We, Cahoon, the Dean, even 
 Malcolmson, though he was a bristly fighting man, cer- 
 tainly Moyne who had gone quietly to bed we were 
 tame barndoor fowls, eating the sordid messes spread 
 for us by that old hen wife, civilized society. Conroy 
 was a free bird of the wild. He snatched golden grain 
 for nutriment from the hand of a goddess. These were 
 not his words or his metaphors, but they represented the 
 impression which his talk and his stories left on my 
 mind. 
 
 At twelve o'clock I rose to say good night. As I did
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 75 
 
 so a servant entered the room and told Conroy that 
 his motor was ready for him at the door. Conroy left 
 the room at once, and left the house a few minutes 
 later. 
 
 I suppose we ought, all of us, to have been surprised. 
 Motor drives in the middle of the night are an unusual 
 form of amusement, and it was impossible to suppose 
 that Conroy could have any business requiring immedi- 
 ate personal attention in the neighbourhood of Castle 
 Affey. But his talk during the evening had left its 
 impression on other minds as well as mine. We bid 
 each other good night without expressing any astonish- 
 ment at Conroy 's conduct. Cahoon refrained from say- 
 ing that inexplicable midnight expeditions were not the 
 kind of things they cared for in Belfast. Even he 
 recognized that a man who had accumulated as large 
 a fortune as Conroy 's must not be judged by ordinary 
 standards. 
 
 I, unfortunately, failed to go to sleep. I tried to read 
 the works of Alexander Pope, of which I found a well- 
 bound copy in my bedroom. But my mind only be- 
 came more active. I got up at last and covered six 
 sheets of the Castle Affey note paper with a character 
 sketch of Conroy. I maintained that he was wrong 
 in supposing that a capacity for daring is the secret of 
 becoming rich. Bob Power, for instance, is as daring 
 as any man living and certainly loves risk for its own 
 sake, but Bob will not die a rich man. Nor will Con- 
 roy. Wealth falls into the hands of such men occa- 
 sionally, as vast hoards of gold did one hundred and 
 fifty years ago into the holds of pirate ships. But no 
 one ever heard of a buccaneer who died with a large 
 fortune safely invested. Before Conroy dies his for-
 
 76 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 tune will have taken to itself wings and fled back to that 
 goddess of his who gave it. This was the substance of 
 my article. Marion typed it out for me when I went 
 home, but neither of the editors who usually print my 
 articles would have it. I suppose that they did not 
 know Conroy personally. If they had known him they 
 would have appreciated my character sketch. I called 
 it, I remember, " Our Contemporary Pirates," a title 
 which ought to have been attractive. 
 
 At three o'clock, just as I was finishing my article, 
 I heard Conroy's motor on the gravel outside my win- 
 dow. 
 
 He appeared at breakfast looking fresh and cheer- 
 ful. None of us asked him where he had been the 
 night before, and he did not offer us any information. 
 
 After breakfast he asked me to go for a walk with 
 him. Lady Moyne, who heard the invitation given, 
 looked pleased, and I recollected at once that I had 
 promised to interest Conroy in the Unionist cause and 
 lead him on to the point of giving a large subscription 
 to our funds. 
 
 These party funds have always been rather a puzzle 
 to me. I have never understood why it should be 
 necessary for rich Liberals, rich Conservatives and 
 American Irishmen to spend enormous sums of money 
 in persuading people to vote. The theory of democratic 
 government is, I suppose, that the citizen expresses his 
 opinion freely in a polling booth. If he has not got an 
 opinion it would surely be better to leave him alone. If 
 he has an opinion and attaches any importance to it he 
 will go to the; polling booth without being dragged there 
 by a kind of special 1 constable hired for the purpose. 
 If the money of the party funds were given to the
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 77 
 
 voters in the form of bribes, the expenditure would be 
 intelligible. It might even be justified; since an occa- 
 sional tip would be most welcome to nearly every elec- 
 tor. But to spend tens of thousands of pounds on 
 what is called organization seems very foolish. How- 
 ever I am not a practical politician, and my immediate 
 object was not to explain the theory of political finance 
 to Conroy, but to work him up into the frame of mind 
 in which he would sign cheques. 
 
 I cannot flatter myself that I did this or even helped 
 to do it. Conroy did not give me a chance. He be- 
 gan to talk about the Irish land question, a thing in 
 which I no longer take any but an academic interest. 
 He asked me if I still owned a small estate in Co. Gal- 
 way which had belonged to my father. I told him that 
 I had long ago sold it and was uncommonly glad to do 
 so. 
 
 " Not a paying proposition ? " said Conroy. 
 
 " Oh," I said, " it paid very well ; but the fact is, 
 what with the agitation about grazing lands, and the 
 trouble about people in congested districts " 
 
 " I reckon," said Conroy, " that your ancestors mis- 
 managed the property some." 
 
 I expect they did. But I did not expect to have their 
 misdeeds brought home to me in a vigorous personal 
 way. 
 
 " Your father," said Conroy, " or your grandfather, 
 turned my grandfather off a patch of land down there 
 in 1850." 
 
 My grandfather had, I have heard, a theory that 
 small holdings of land were uneconomic. He evicted 
 his tenants and made large grass farms. Nowadays 
 we hold the opposite opinion. We are evicting large
 
 78 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 tenants and establishing small holdings. Our grand- 
 sons, I dare say, will go back again to the large farms. 
 I explained to Conroy that he ought not to blame my 
 grandfather who was acting in accordance with the 
 most advanced scientific theories of his time. 
 
 Conroy was very nice about the matter. He said 
 he had no grudge against either me or my grandfather. 
 He had, however, so he told me frankly, a prejudice 
 against everything English; an inherited prejudice, and 
 not quite so irrational as it looked. It was after all 
 the English who invented the economic theories on 
 which my grandfather acted. He talked so much about 
 his dislike of England and everything English that I 
 did not like to introduce the subject of the subscription 
 to Lady Moyne's political fund. He did, in the end, 
 subscribe largely. When I heard about his 1000 
 cheque I supposed that he must have counted the Un- 
 ion with us a misfortune for England and so wished 
 to perpetuate it. Either that was his motive, so I 
 thought, or else Lady Moyne had captivated him as she 
 always captivates me.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 I HAD no sooner settled down quietly at home and 
 got to work again on my history than I was as- 
 sailed by Godfrey. I wish very much that he was Con- 
 roy's nephew and not mine. Conroy goes driving in 
 a motor in the middle of the night, so he must like 
 disturbances. I hate them. 
 
 " I'm sorry, Excellency, but I am afraid I shall have 
 to interrupt you." 
 
 Godfrey, besides being objectionable in other ways, 
 is a liar. He is not sorry, he is very glad, when he gets 
 the chance of interrupting me. I should resent the 
 disturbance less if he acknowledged frankly that he 
 enjoyed annoying me. 
 
 " It can't be time," I said, " for another garden-party 
 yet; but, if it is, I'd rather you made out the invitation 
 list yourself. I'm busy. Besides making out lists is 
 one of the things you're good at. I should be sure to 
 leave out somebody." 
 
 " I don't want to talk about garden-parties," said 
 Godfrey. " This is something much more serious." 
 
 " There's no use coming to me about it," I said. " I 
 told you last time that your tailor could bring you into 
 the County Court if he liked. I shan't pay him again." 
 
 The inference was a natural one. Godfrey had said 
 that he wanted to talk about something more important 
 than a garden-party. But the inference was wrong. 
 Godfrey looked offended. 
 
 79
 
 8o THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " I sent Nicholson and Blackett a cheque last week," 
 he said. 
 
 I waited patiently. If Godfrey's business had noth- 
 ing to do with garden-parties or tailors' bills, I could 
 only suppose that he meant to make some fresh com- 
 plaint about Crossan. 
 
 " Pringle cashed it all right," said Godfrey, after a 
 short pause. " I went in there the day after your party 
 and played tennis with his daughter. They were aw- 
 fully pleased." 
 
 I dare say they were. People attach a surprising 
 amount of importance to Godfrey's social patronage. 
 I myself should be more inclined to cash his cheques 
 for him if he stayed away from my house. But I did 
 not want to argue with Godfrey about Pringle's taste 
 in guests. 
 
 " What's Crossan been doing to you ? " I asked at 
 last. 
 
 " He hasn't been doing anything to me." 
 
 " Then for goodness' sake, Godfrey, let the man 
 alone." 
 
 " I don't like the way he's going on." 
 
 " You never did. There's nothing fresh about that. 
 You've complained about him regularly every week for 
 five years." 
 
 This was an exaggeration. I am sometimes away 
 from home for more than a week at a time and God- 
 frey does not always complain about Crossan in his 
 letters. 
 
 " Look here, Excellency," said Godfrey, " it's far 
 better for you to know what Crossan's doing. He's 
 going about all over the country day after day. He's 
 got a motor car."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 81 
 
 I can quite understand that Crossan's owning a mo- 
 tor car must have a very irritating effect on Godfrey. 
 I cannot afford to keep one. That any one else in the 
 district over which I ought, according to Godfrey's the- 
 ory, to be a kind of king, should assume a grandeur 
 impossible for me is simply an aggravated kind of in- 
 solence. No wonder that Godfrey, with the honour 
 of the family at heart, resented Crossan's motor car. I 
 tried to soothe him. 
 
 " It's probably quite an inferior machine," I said. 
 " It will break down soon." 
 
 " It's not only that," said Godfrey, " though I think 
 Crossan ought to stay at home and mind his business. 
 He must be neglecting things. But I wish you'd 
 walk up to the store with me, Excellency. Crossan's 
 away." 
 
 " I'd much rather go when Crossan's at home," I 
 said ; " but, of course, if you won't leave me in peace 
 until I do, I may as well go at once." 
 
 I got my hat and walking stick. On the way up to 
 the store Godfrey preserved an air of mysterious im- 
 portance. I had no objection whatever to his doing 
 this; because he could not talk and look mysterious at 
 the same time, and I particularly dislike being talked 
 to by Godfrey. I expect he tried to be dignified with 
 a view to impressing me, but just before we reached the 
 store he broke down and babbled fatuously. 
 
 " Marion told me yesterday," he said, " that she'd 
 had a letter from that fellow Power." 
 
 " She told me that too," I said. 
 
 " Well, I think you ought to put a stop to it. It's not 
 right." 
 
 " My dear Godfrey," I said, " you appear to forget
 
 82 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 that he's one of the Powers of Kilfenora and private 
 secretary to a millionaire." 
 
 This twofold appeal to the highest and strongest 
 feelings which Godfrey possesses ought to have silenced 
 him. He did, I think, feel the force of what I said. 
 But he was not satisfied. 
 
 " If you knew all that was going on," he said, " you 
 wouldn't like it." 
 
 We reached the store. The young woman who con- 
 trols the sale of miscellaneous goods was alert and 
 smiling behind her counter. Whatever Crossan might 
 be doing she at all events was attending to her business. 
 Godfrey took no notice of her. He led me through 
 the shop to the yard behind it. He pushed open the door 
 of one of the outhouses. 
 
 " That door ought to be locked," he said. 
 
 This was true. I was somewhat surprised to find it 
 open. 
 
 " I forced the lock this morning," said Godfrey, 
 " with a screw driver." 
 
 " In that case," I said, " you can hardly blame Cros- 
 san for its being open. Why did you do it ? " 
 
 " I wanted to see what he had inside," said Godfrey, 
 " and I wanted you to see." 
 
 There was a good deal inside. In fact the outhouse, 
 a large building, was filled from floor to ceiling with 
 packing-cases, some of them very large indeed. God- 
 frey pointed to a small one near the door. 
 
 " Just lift that up, will you, Excellency ? " said God- 
 frey. 
 
 " No, I won't. Why should I ? I'm not a railway 
 porter, and it looks heavy."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 83 
 
 " It is heavy. Just watch me for a moment if you 
 don't want to lift it yourself." 
 
 Godfrey with evident difficulty lifted the packing- 
 case, staggered a few steps with it and then set it down. 
 The packing-case may have been heavy but it was 
 quite small. It seemed to me that Godfrey was mak- 
 ing a rather pitiful exhibition of his physical feeble- 
 ness. 
 
 " You ought to do things with dumb-bells," I said. 
 " The muscles of your arms are evidently quite soft." 
 
 Godfrey took no notice of the taunt. He was in a 
 state of tremendous moral earnestness. 
 
 " I want your permission to open these cases," he 
 said. 
 
 " I won't give you any such permission," I said. 
 " How can I ? They're not my packing-cases." 
 
 Godfrey argued with me for quite a long time, but 
 I remained firm. For some reason which I could not 
 understand, Godfrey was unwilling to open the pack- 
 ing-cases without permission from somebody. I should 
 have supposed that having already forced a door he 
 would not have boggled at the lid of a packing-case; 
 but he did. He evidently had some vague idea that 
 the law takes a more serious view of smashing packing- 
 cases than it does of housebreaking. He may have 
 been right. But my record so far was clear. I had 
 not forced the lock of the door. 
 
 " What do you suppose is in those cases ? " said God- 
 frey. 
 
 " Artificial manure," I said. 
 
 Our store does a large business in artificial manure. 
 It generally comes to us in sacks, but there is no reason
 
 84 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 why it should not come in packing-cases. It is tre- 
 mendously heavy stuff. 
 
 " Those cases were landed from the Finola," said 
 Godfrey. " She wouldn't come here with a cargo of 
 artificial manure." 
 
 "If you've brought me all the way up here to accuse 
 Conroy of smuggling," I said, " you've wasted your 
 own time and mine." 
 
 " I don't accuse Conroy of smuggling," said God- 
 frey. " In fact, I'm going to write to him to-night to 
 tell him what's going on." 
 
 " Very well," I said. " You can if you like, but 
 don't mix my name up with it." 
 
 We walked back together as far as the village. God- 
 frey was silent again. I could see that he still had 
 something on his mind, probably something which he 
 wanted me to do. He kept on clearing his throat and 
 pulling himself together as if he were going to say 
 something of importance. I was uncomfortable, for 
 I felt sure that he intended to attack me again about 
 Marion's correspondence with Bob Power. I have 
 never, since she was quite a little girl, interfered with 
 Marion's freedom of action. I had not the smallest 
 intention of making myself ridiculous by claiming any 
 kind of authority over her, especially in a matter so 
 purely personal as the young man she chose to favour. 
 Besides, I like Bob Power. At worst there was noth- 
 ing against him except his smuggling, and smuggling 
 is much less objectionable than the things that Godfrey 
 does. I should rather, if it came to that, have a son-in- 
 law who went to prison occasionally for importing 
 spirits without consulting the government than one who 
 perpetually nagged at me and worried me. But I did
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 85 
 
 not want to provoke further arguments by explaining 
 my feelings to Godfrey. I was therefore rather re- 
 lieved when he finally succeeded in blurting out what 
 was in his mind. 
 
 " I hope, Excellency," he said, " that you will take 
 the first chance you get of speaking to Crossan." 
 
 In sudden gratitude for escaping a wrangle about 
 Marion and Bob Power I promised hurriedly that I 
 would speak to Crossan. I was sorry afterwards that 
 I did promise. Still, I very much wished to know what 
 was in the packing-cases. I did not really believe it 
 was artificial manure. I did not believe either that 
 it was smuggled brandy. 
 
 My chance came two days later. I met Crossan in 
 the street. He was standing beside his motor car, a 
 handsome-looking vehicle. He evidently intended to 
 go for a drive. I felt at once that I could not ask him 
 a direct question about the packing-cases. I deter- 
 mined to get at them obliquely if I could. I began by 
 admiring the motor. 
 
 " She's good enough, my lord," said Crossan. 
 
 He is a man of few words, and is sparing of his 
 praise. " Good enough " is, from Crossan, quite an 
 enthusiastic compliment. 
 
 "If your lordship would care about a drive any day," 
 he said, " it'll be a pleasure to me." 
 
 Crossan always interjects " my lord " and " your 
 lordship " into the middle of the remarks he makes to 
 me; but he says the words in a very peculiar tone. It 
 always seems to me that he wishes to emphasize the 
 difference in our social station because he feels that 
 the advantage is all on his side. " The rank," so his 
 tone suggests, " is but the guinea stamp. The man "
 
 86 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 that is in this case Crossan himself " is the gowd for 
 a' that." 
 
 " You can get about the country pretty quickly in 
 that car," I said. 
 
 Crossan looked at me with a perfectly expression- 
 less face for some time. Then he said 
 
 "If you think, my lord, that I'm neglecting my work, 
 you've only to say so and I'll go." 
 
 I hastened to assure him that I had no intention of 
 finding fault with him in any way. My apology was 
 as ample as possible. After another minute spent in 
 silent meditation Crossan expressed himself satisfied. 
 
 " It suits me as little to be running round the coun- 
 try," he said, " as it would suit your lordship." 
 
 " I quite understand that," I said. " But then I 
 don't do it. You do." 
 
 " It has to be," said Crossan. 
 
 I did not quite see why it had to be; but Crossan 
 spoke with such conviction that I dared not contradict 
 him and did not even like to question him. Fortu- 
 nately he explained himself. 
 
 " I'm the Grand Master, as your lordship is aware," 
 he said. 
 
 " Worshipful " is the title of courtesy applied to 
 Grand Masters, and I'm sure no one ever deserved it 
 better than Crossan. 
 
 " If we're not ready for them, my lord, they'll have 
 our throats cut in our beds as soon as ever they get 
 Home Rule." 
 
 " They," of course were the " Papishes," Crossan's 
 arch enemies. 
 
 I wanted very much to hear more of his activities 
 among the Orangemen. I wanted to know what steps
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 87 
 
 he, as Grand Master, was taking to prevent cut-throats 
 creeping in on us while we slept. I thought I might 
 encourage him by telling him something he would be 
 pleased to hear. 
 
 " McConkey," I said, " who is foreman in the Green 
 Loaney Scutching Mill, is buying a splendid quick-fir- 
 ing gun." 
 
 The remark did not have the effect I hoped for. It 
 had an exactly opposite effect. Crossan shut up like a 
 sea anemone suddenly touched. 
 
 " Your lordship's affairs won't be neglected," he 
 said stiffly. " You may count on that." 
 
 I felt that I could. I have the utmost confidence in 
 Crossan's integrity. If a body of " Papishes " of the 
 bloodiest kind were to come upon Crossan and capture 
 him ; if they were to condemn him to death and, being 
 God-fearing men, were to allow him half an hour in 
 which to make his soul; he would spend the time, not 
 in saying his prayers, not even in cursing the Pope, 
 but in balancing the accounts of the co-operative store, 
 so that any auditor who took over the books afterwards 
 might find everything in order. 
 
 " If you really feel it to be your duty," I said, " to 
 go round the district working up " 
 
 " You'll have heard of the Home Rule Bill, maybe," 
 said Crossan. 
 
 I had heard of it, several times. After my visit to 
 Castle Affey I even understood it, though it was cer- 
 tainly a measure of great complexity. I think I appre- 
 ciated the orthodox Protestant view of it since the day 
 I talked to McConkey. I wanted Crossan to realize 
 how fully I entered into his feelings, so I quoted a 
 phrase from one of Babberly's speeches.
 
 88 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " In this supreme crisis of our country's destiny," I 
 said, " it is the duty of every man to do his uttermost 
 to avert the threatened ruin of our common Protestant- 
 ism." 
 
 That ought to have pacified Crossan even if it did 
 not rouse him to enthusiasm. Huge crowds have 
 cheered Babberly for saying these moving words. But 
 Crossan received them from me in sullen silence. 
 
 " It would be well," he said at last, " if your lord- 
 ship and others like you were more in earnest." 
 
 Crossan is not by any means a fool. I have occa- 
 sionally been tempted to think he is, especially when he 
 talks about having his throat cut at night; but he has 
 always shown me in the end that he has in him a vein 
 of strong common sense. He recognized that I was 
 talking bombast when I spoke about the supreme 
 crisis; but, curiously enough, he is quite convinced of 
 Babberly's sincerity when he says things of that sort. 
 
 It was nearly an hour after Crossan left me when 
 I recollected that I had not found out anything about 
 the packing-cases. The subject somehow had not 
 come up between us, though I fully intended that it 
 should. Our talk about Home Rule gave me no clue 
 to what was in the cases. I could scarcely suppose 
 that they were full of gorgets for distribution among 
 Orangemen, defensive armour proof against the par- 
 ticular kind of stabs which Crossan anticipated. 
 
 Godfrey called on me the next morning in a white 
 heat of righteous indignation. He had received an 
 answer to the letter which he wrote to Conroy. Be- 
 fore showing it to me he insisted on my reading what 
 he called his statement of the case. It occupied four 
 sheets of quarto paper, closely type-written. It ac-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 89 
 
 cused Bob Power and McNeice of using the Finola for 
 smuggling without the owner's knowledge. It made 
 out, I am bound to say, quite a good case. He had col- 
 lected every possible scrap of evidence, down to Rose's 
 new brooch. I suppose Marion told him about that. 
 He said at the end of the letter that he had no motive 
 in writing it except a sincere wish for Conroy's wel- 
 fare. This was quite untrue. He had several other 
 motives. His love of meddling was one. Hatred of 
 Crossan was another. Jealousy of Bob Power was a 
 third. 
 
 " Now is there anything objectionable in that letter? 
 Anything that one gentleman would not write to an- 
 other?" 
 
 I admitted that on the whole it was a civil letter. 
 
 " Now look at his answer," said Godfrey. 
 
 Conroy's answer was. on a postcard. It consisted 
 of six words only. 
 
 " Do not be a damned fool." 
 
 " Well," I said, " that's sound advice even if it's not 
 very politely expressed." 
 
 " Conroy's in it too," said Godfrey, vindictively, 
 " and I'll make them all sorry for themselves before 
 I've done with them."
 
 I FIND by consulting my diary that it was on the 
 30th of June that I went to Dublin. I am not 
 often in Dublin, though I do not share the contempt 
 for that city which is felt by most Ulstermen. Ca- 
 hoon, for instance, will not recognize it as the capital of 
 the country in which he lives, and always speaks of 
 Dublin people as impractical, given over to barren po- 
 litical discussion and utterly unable to make useful 
 things such as ships and linen. He also says that 
 Dublin is dirty, that the rates are exorbitantly high, 
 and that the houses have not got bath-rooms in them. 
 I put it to him that there are two first-rate libraries in 
 Dublin. 
 
 " If I want a book," he said, " I buy it. We pay 
 for what we use in Belfast. We are business men." 
 
 " But," I explained, " there are some books, old ones, 
 which you cannot buy. You can only consult them in 
 libraries." 
 
 " Why don't you go to London, then ? " said Ca- 
 hoon. 
 
 The conversation took place in the club. I lunched 
 there on my way through Belfast, going on to Dublin 
 by an afternoon train. I was, in fact, going to Dublin 
 to consult some books in the College Library. Marion 
 and I had been brought up short in our labours on my 
 history for want of some quotations from the diary 
 of a seventeenth-century divine, and even if I had been 
 
 90
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 91 
 
 willing to buy the book I should have had to wait 
 months while a second-hand bookseller advertised for 
 it. 
 
 Trinity College, when I entered the quadrangle next 
 day, seemed singularly deserted. The long vacation 
 had begun a week before. Fellows, professors and 
 students had fled from the scene of their labours. 
 Halfway across the square, however, I met McNeice. 
 He seemed quite glad to see me and invited me to 
 luncheon in his rooms. I accepted the invitation and 
 was fed on cold ham, stale bread and bottled stout. 
 
 Thackeray once hinted that fellows of Trinity Col- 
 lege gave their guests beer to drink. Many hard words 
 have been said of him ever since by members of Dub- 
 lin University. I have no wish to have hard things 
 said about me; so I explain myself carefully. Mc- 
 Neice's luncheon was an eccentricity. It is not on cold 
 ham solely, it is not on stale bread ever, that guests in 
 the Common Room are fed. If, like Prince Hal, they 
 remember amid their feasting " that good creature, 
 small beer," they do not drink it without being offered 
 nobler beverages. When the University, in recogni- 
 tion of my labours on the Life of St. Patrick, made me 
 a doctor of both kinds of law, I fared sumptuously in 
 the dining hall and afterwards sipped port rich with 
 the glory of suns which shone many many years ago 
 on the banks of the upper Douro. 
 
 After luncheon, while I was still heavy with the 
 spume of the stout, McNeice asked me if I had seen 
 the new paper which was being published to express, 
 I imagine also to exacerbate, the opinions of the Ulster 
 Unionists. He produced a copy as he spoke. It was 
 called The Loyalist.
 
 9 2 
 
 " We wanted something with a bite in it," he said. 
 " We're dead sick of the pap the daily papers give us 
 in their leading articles." 
 
 Pap is, I think, a soft innocuous food, slightly sugary 
 in flavour, suitable for infants. I should never have 
 dreamed of describing the articles in The Belfast News- 
 letter as pap. An infant nourished on them would 
 either suffer badly from the form of indigestion called 
 flatulence or would grow up to be an exceedingly fero- 
 cious man. I felt, however, that if McNeice had any- 
 thing to do with the editing of The Loyalist its articles 
 would be of such a kind that those of the Newsletter 
 would seem, by comparison, papescent. 
 
 " We're running it as a weekly," said McNeice, 
 " and what we want is to get it into the home of every 
 Protestant farmer, and every workingman in Belfast. 
 We are circulating the first six numbers free. After 
 that we shall charge a penny." 
 
 I looked at The Loyalist. It was very well printed, 
 on good paper.. It looked something like The Specta- 
 tor, but had none of the pleasant advertisements of 
 schools and books, and much fewer pages of corre- 
 spondence than the English weekly has. 
 
 " Surely," I said, " you can't expect it to pay at that 
 price." 
 
 "We don't," said McNeice. "We've plenty of 
 money behind us. Conroy you know Conroy, don't 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh," I said, " then Lady Moyne got a subscription 
 out of him after all. I knew she intended to." 
 
 " Lady Moyne isn't in this at all," said McNeice. 
 "We're out for business with The Loyalist. Lady
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 93 
 
 Moyne's well, I don't quite see Lady Moyne running 
 The Loyalist." 
 
 " She's a tremendously keen Unionist," I said. 
 " She gave an address to the working-women of Bel- 
 fast the week before last, one of the most moving " 
 
 " All frills," said McNeice, " silk frills. Your friend 
 Crossan is acting as one of our agents, distributing the 
 paper for us. That'll give you an idea of the lines 
 we're going on." 
 
 Crossan, I admit, is the last man I should suspect 
 of being interested in frills. The mention of his name 
 gave me an idea. 
 
 " Was it copies of The Loyalist," I asked, " which 
 were in the packing-cases which you and Power landed 
 that night from the F'mola?" 
 
 McNeice laughed. 
 
 " Come along round with me," he said, " and see 
 the editor. He'll interest you. He's a first-rate 
 journalist, used to edit a rebel paper and advocate the 
 use of physical force for throwing off the English rule. 
 But he's changed his tune now. Just wait for me one 
 moment while I get together an article which I prom- 
 ised to bring him. It's all scattered about the floor of 
 the next room in loose sheets." 
 
 I read The Loyalist while I waited. The editor 
 was unquestionably a first-rate journalist. His Eng- 
 lish was of a naked, muscular kind, which reminded me 
 of Swift and occasionally of John Mitchel. But I 
 could not agree with McNeice that he had changed his 
 tune. He still seemed to be editing a rebel paper and 
 still advocated the use of physical force for resisting 
 the will of the King, Lords and Commons of our con-
 
 94 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 stitution. It is the merest commonplace to say that 
 Ireland is a country of unblushing self-contradictions; 
 but I do not think that the truth of this ever came home 
 to me quite so forcibly as when I read The Loyalist that 
 it would be better, if necessary, to imitate the Boers 
 and shoot down regiments of British soldiers than to 
 be false to the Empire of which " it is our proudest 
 boast that we are citizens." The editor such was the 
 conclusion I arrived at must be a humorist of a 
 high order. 
 
 His name was Diarmid O'Donovan and he always 
 wrote it in Irish characters, which used to puzzle me 
 at first when I got into correspondence with him. We 
 found him in a small room at the top of a house in a 
 side street of a singularly depressing kind. 
 
 McNeice explained to me that The Loyalist did not 
 court notoriety, and preferred to have an office which 
 was, as far as possible, out of sight. He said that 
 O'Donovan was particularly anxious to be unobtrusive. 
 He had, before he became connected with The Loyalist, 
 been editor of two papers which had been suppressed 
 by the Government for advocating what the Litany calls 
 " sedition and privy conspiracy." He held, very 
 naturally, that a paper would get on better in the world 
 if it had no office at all. If that was impossible, the 
 office should be an attic in an inaccessible slum. 
 
 O'Donovan, when we entered, was seated at a table 
 writing vigorously. I do not know how he managed 
 to write at all. His table was covered with stacks of 
 newspapers, very dusty. He had cleared a small, a 
 very small space in the middle of them, and his ink- 
 bottle occupied a kind of cave hollowed out at the base 
 of one of the stacks. It must have been extremely
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 95 
 
 difficult to put a pen into it. The chairs there were 
 only two of them besides the editorial stool were 
 also covered with papers. But even if they had been 
 free I should not have cared to sit down on them. 
 They were exceedingly dirty and did not look safe. 
 
 McNeice introduced me and then produced his own 
 article. O'Donovan, very politely, offered me his stool. 
 
 " McNeice tells me," he said, " that you are writing 
 a history of Irish Rebellions. I suppose you have said 
 that Nationalism ceased to exist about the year 1900? " 
 
 " I hadn't thought of saying that," I said. " In fact 
 in view of the Home Rule Bill, you know I should 
 have said that Irish Nationalism was just beginning to 
 come to its own." 
 
 O'Donovan snorted. 
 
 " There's no such thing as Irish Nationalism left," 
 he said. " The country is hypnotized. We've ac- 
 cepted a Bill which deprives us of the most elementary 
 rights of freemen. We've licked the boots of English 
 Liberals. We've said ' thank you ' for any gnawed 
 bones they like to fling to us. We've " 
 
 It struck me that O'Donovan was becoming rhetor- 
 ical. I interrupted him. 
 
 " Idealism in politics," I said, " is one of the most 
 futile things there is. What the Nationalist Party " 
 
 "Don't call them that," said O'Donovan. "I tell 
 you they're not Nationalists." 
 
 " I'll call them anything you like," I said, " but until 
 you invent some other name for them I can't well talk 
 about them without calling them Nationalists." 
 
 " They " said O'Donovan. 
 
 " Very well," I said. " They. So long as you know 
 who I mean, the pronoun will satisfy me. They had to
 
 96 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 consider not what men like you wanted, but what the 
 Liberal Party could be induced to give. I don't say 
 they made the best bargain possible, but 
 
 " Anyhow," said McNeice, " we're not going to be 
 governed by those fellows. That's the essential 
 point." 
 
 I think it is. The Unionist is not really passionately 
 attached to the Union. He has no insuperable antipa- 
 thy to Home Rule. Indeed, I think most Unionists 
 would welcome any change in our existing system of 
 government if it were not that they have the most 
 profound and deeply rooted objection to the men whom 
 McNeice describes as " those fellows," and O'Donovan 
 indicates briefly as " they." 
 
 " And so," I said, turning to O'Donovan, " in mere 
 despair of nationality you have gone over to the side 
 of the Unionists." 
 
 " I've gone over," said O'Donovan, " to the side of 
 the only people in Ireland who mean to fight." 
 
 Supposing that Ulster really did mean to fight 
 O'Donovan's position was quite reasonable. But Bab- 
 berly says it will never come to fighting. He is quite 
 confident of his ability to bluff the conscientious Liberal 
 into dropping the Home Rule Bill for fear of civil 
 war. O'Donovan, and possibly McNeice, will be left 
 out in the cold if Babberly is right. The matter is 
 rather a tangled one. With Babberly is Lady Moyne, 
 working at her ingenious policy of dragging a red her- 
 ring across the path along which democracy goes to- 
 wards socialism. On the other hand there is McNeice 
 with fiery intelligence, and O'Donovan, a coldly con- 
 sistent rebel against English rule in any shape and 
 form. They have their little paper with money enough
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 97 
 
 behind it, with people like Crossan circulating it for 
 them. It is quite possible that they may count for 
 something. Then there is Malcolmson, a man of al- 
 most incredible stupidity, but with a knowledge, ham- 
 mered into him no doubt with extra difficulty, of how 
 to handle guns. 
 
 O'Donovan and McNeice were bending over some 
 proof sheets and talking in low whispers; there was a 
 knock at the office door, and a moment later Malcolm- 
 son entered. He looked bristlier than ever, and was 
 plainly in a state of joyous excitement. He held a 
 copy of the first number of The Loyalist in his hand. 
 He caught sight of me at once. 
 
 " I'm damned," he said, " if I expected to see you 
 here, Kilmore. You're the last man in Ireland " 
 
 " I'm only here by accident," I said, " and I'm going 
 away almost at once. Let me introduce you to Mr. 
 McNeice and Mr. O'Donovan." 
 
 Malcolmson shook hands with the two men vigor- 
 ously. I never shake hands with Malcolmson if I can 
 possibly help it, because he always hurts me. I expect 
 he hurt both McNeice and O'Donovan. They did not 
 cry out, but they looked a good deal surprised. 
 
 " I happened to be in Dublin," said Malcolmson, 
 " and I called round here to congratulate the editor of 
 this paper. I only came across it the day before yes- 
 terday, and " 
 
 " You couldn't have come across it any sooner," I 
 said, " for it's only just published." 
 
 " And to put down my name as a subscriber for 
 twenty copies. If you want money " 
 
 " They don't," I said, " Conroy is financing them." 
 
 " Conroy has some sound ideas," said Malcolmson.
 
 98 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " You approve of the paper, then ? " said McNeice. 
 
 " I like straight talk," said Malcolmson. 
 
 " We aim at that," said O'Donovan. 
 
 " I'm dead sick of politics and speech making," said 
 Malcolmson. " What I want is to have a slap at the 
 damned rebels." 
 
 " Mr. O'Donovan's point of view," I said, " is almost 
 the same as yours. What he wants " 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," said Malcolmson, " and I need 
 only say that when the time comes, gentlemen, and it 
 won't be long now if things go on as they are going 
 you'll find me ready. What Ireland wants " 
 
 Malcolmson paused. I waited expectantly. It is 
 always interesting to hear what Ireland wants. Many 
 people have theories on the subject, and hardly any one 
 agrees with any one else. 
 
 " What Ireland wants," said Malcolmson dramatic- 
 ally, " is another Oliver Cromwell." 
 
 He drew himself up and puffed out his chest as he 
 spoke. He must, I think, have rather fancied himself 
 in the part of a twentieth century Puritan horse soldier. 
 I looked round at O'Donovan to see how he was taking 
 the suggestion. Oliver Cromwell I supposed, could 
 not possibly be one of his favourite heroes. But I had 
 misjudged O'Donovan. His sympathy with rebels of 
 all nations was evidently stronger than his dislike of 
 the typical Englishman. After all, Cromwell, however 
 objectionable his religious views may have been, did 
 kill a king. O'Donovan smiled quite pleasantly at 
 Malcolmson. I dare say that even the idea of a new 
 massacre of Drogheda was agreeable enough to him, 
 provided the inhabitants of the town were the people 
 to whom he denied the title of Nationalists and Mai-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 99 
 
 colmson wanted to have a slap at because they were 
 rebels. 
 
 Then McNeice got us all back to practical business 
 in a way that would have delighted Cahoon. McNeice, 
 though he does live in Dublin, has good Belfast blood 
 in his veins. He likes his heroics to be put on a busi- 
 ness basis. The immediate and most pressing prob- 
 lem, he reminded us, was to secure as large a circula- 
 tion as possible for The Loyalist. 
 
 " You get the paper into the people's hands," he said 
 to Malcolmson, " and we'll get the ideas into their 
 heads." 
 
 Malcolmson, who is certainly prepared to make sac- 
 rifices in a good cause, offered to hire a man with a 
 motorcycle to distribute the paper from house to house 
 over a wide district. 
 
 " I know the exact man we want," he said. " He 
 knows every house in County Antrim, and the people 
 like him. He's been distributing Bibles and selling il- 
 luminated texts among the farmers and labourers for 
 years. He's what's called a colporteur. That," he 
 turned to O'Donovan with his explanation, " is a kind 
 of Scripture reader, you know." 
 
 If any one in the world except Malcolmson had sug- 
 gested the employment of a Scripture reader for the 
 distribution of The Loyalist, I should have applauded 
 a remarkable piece of cynicism. But Malcolmson was 
 in simple earnest. 
 
 " Will you be able to get him? " I said. " The so- 
 ciety which employs him may perhaps " 
 
 " Oh, that will be all right," said Malcolmson. 
 " There can't be any objection. But if there is I 
 happen to be a member of the committee of the society.
 
 ioo THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 I'm one"- he sunk his voice modestly "of the 
 largest subscribers." 
 
 I am inclined to forget sometimes that Malcolmson 
 takes a leading part in Church affairs. At the last 
 meeting of the General Synod of the Church of Ire- 
 land he said that the distribution of the Bible among 
 the people of Ireland was the surest means of quench- 
 ing the desire for Home Rule. Free copies of The 
 Loyalist for the people who already have Bibles and 
 a force of artillery are, so to speak, his reserves.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE 1 2th of July, was, of course, indicated by na- 
 ture itself as a day in every way suitable for a 
 great Unionist demonstration. Babberly and Lady 
 Moyne were not the people to neglect an opportunity. 
 They organized a demonstration. Then somebody 
 I think it must have been McNeice in the pages of The 
 Loyalist suggested that the thing should be called 
 a review and not a demonstration. Malcolmson took 
 the idea up warmly and forced Babberly's hand. Eng- 
 lish journalists of the Conservative kind journalists 
 of every kind swarmed over Belfast for a week before- 
 hand were delighted and trumpetted the thing as a 
 review. Liberal journalists lost their tempers the 
 clever ones losing theirs most hopelessly and abused 
 the Orangemen in finely pointed paradoxical epigrams, 
 which I dare say excited the admiration of sentimental 
 Nationalists in Chelsea, but had not the smallest effect 
 of any kind on the people of Belfast. They, just then, 
 had no leisure time to spend in reading epigrams, and 
 never at any time appreciated paradox. An English 
 statesman of great ability announced to the world at 
 large that a demonstration was one thing, and a review 
 was quite a different thing. He went no further than 
 to point out the fact that there was a distinction be- 
 tween the two things; but everybody understood that 
 a demonstration was, in his opinion, quite harmless, 
 
 101
 
 102 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 whereas a review might end in getting somebody into 
 trouble. 
 
 The Nationalist leaders " those fellows " as Mc- 
 Neice called them issued a kind of manifesto. It 
 was a document which breathed the spirit of moderate 
 constitutionalism, and spoke the words of grave, seri- 
 ous patriotism. It made a strong appeal to the people 
 of Belfast not to injure the cause of liberty, law and 
 order by rash and ill-considered action. It said that 
 no Nationalist wanted to see Babberly and Lord Moyne 
 put into prison; but that most Nationalists had been 
 made to sleep on plank beds for utterances much less 
 seditious than this advertisement of a review. O'Don- 
 ovan and McNeice tore this manifesto to pieces with 
 jubilant scorn in the next number of The Loyalist. 
 
 A Roman Catholic bishop issued a kind of pastoral 
 to his flock urging them to remain at home on the I2th 
 of July, and above all things not to attempt a counter 
 demonstration in Belfast. It was a nice pastoral, very 
 Christian in tone, but quite unnecessary. No sane Ro- 
 man Catholic, unless he wanted a martyr's crown, 
 would have dreamed of demonstrating anywhere north 
 of the Boyne on that particular day. 
 
 The newspapers were very interesting at this time, 
 and I took in so many of them that I had not time to 
 do anything except read them. I had not even time 
 to read them all, but Marion used to go through the 
 ones I could not read. With a view to writing an 
 essay to be published in calmer times on " Dif- 
 ferent Points of View " we cut out and pasted into a 
 book some of the finer phrases. We put them in par- 
 allel columns. " Truculent corner boys," for instance, 
 faced " Grim, silent warriors." " Men in whom the
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 103 
 
 spirit of the martial psalms still survives," stood over 
 against " Ruffians whose sole idea of religion is to 
 curse the Pope." " Sons of unconquerable colonists, 
 men of our own race and blood," was balanced by 
 " hooligans with a taste for rioting so long as rioting 
 can be indulged in with no danger to their own skins." 
 We were interrupted in this pleasant work by the ar- 
 rival of a letter from Lady Moyne. She summoned 
 me invited would be quite the wrong word to 
 Castle Affey. I went, of course. 
 
 Babberly was there. He and Lady Moyne were 
 shut up in the library along with Lady Moyne's ex- 
 hausted secretary. They were writing letters which 
 she typed. I saw Moyne himself before I saw them. 
 
 " I'm afraid," he said, " I'm very much afraid that 
 some of our people are inclined to go too far. Mal- 
 colmson, for instance. I can't understand Malcolmson. 
 After all the man's a gentleman." 
 
 "But," I said, "Malcolmson wants to fight. He 
 always said so." 
 
 " Quite so, quite so. We all said so. I've said so 
 myself; but it was always on the distinct understand- 
 ing-" 
 
 " That it would never come to that. I've heard Bab- 
 berly say so." 
 
 " But damn it all, Kilmore ! it doesn't do to 
 push things to these extremes. The whole business 
 has been mismanaged. The people have got out of 
 hand; and there's Malcolmson, a man who's dined at 
 my table a score of times, actually egging them on. 
 Now, what do you think we ought to do ? " 
 
 " The Government is threatening you, I suppose ? " 
 
 " It's growling," said Moyne. " Not that I care
 
 104 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 what the Government does to me. It can't do much. 
 But I do not want her ladyship mixed up in anything 
 unpleasant. It won't do, you know. People don't like 
 it. I don't mind for myself, of course. But still it's 
 very unpleasant. Men I know keep writing to me. 
 You know the sort of thing I mean." 
 
 I did. The members of the English aristocracy still 
 preserve a curious sentiment which they call " loyalty." 
 It is quite a different thing from the " loyalty " of 
 Crossan, for instance, or McNeice. I fully understood 
 that there were men in clubs in London who would 
 look coldly at poor Moyne (men of such importance 
 that their wives' treatment of Lady Moyne would mat- 
 ter even to her) if he were discovered to be heading 
 an actual rising of Ulster Protestants. I promised to 
 do what I could to get Moyne out of his difficulty. 
 
 I found that Babberly and Lady Moyne had worked 
 out a very feasible plan without any help from me. 
 
 " That fellow Malcolmson has rushed things," said 
 Babberly, " and there's an abominable rag called The 
 Loyalist " 
 
 " By the way," I said, " I hear that the Nationalists 
 at their last meeting in Dublin joined in singing ' God 
 Save the King.' " 
 
 I wanted to "hear what Babberly thought of this. I 
 was disappointed. The fact did not seem to interest 
 him. 
 
 ." I don't know who edits the thing," he went on, still 
 referring to The Loyalist. 
 
 " Conroy is behind it," I said. " I happen to know 
 that." 
 
 " But surely," said Lady Moyne, " Mr. Conroy can- 
 not want to encourage violence. He has just as much
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 105 
 
 to lose as any of us more than most of us by any 
 kind of outbreak of the democracy." 
 
 " Lady Moyne has suggested to Malcolmson," said 
 Babberly, " that he should agree to call this I2th of 
 July business a March Past." 
 
 " Is that any improvement on Review ? " I asked. 
 
 "Of course," said Lady Moyne, " the Government 
 doesn't want to be driven to take steps against us. 
 There would be horrible rioting afterwards if they 
 struck Moyne's name off the Privy Council or did any- 
 thing like that. It would be just as unpleasant for 
 them as it would be for us, more so in fact." 
 
 " Your idea," I said, " is to give the Government a 
 loophole of escape." 
 
 " Malcolmson has agreed all right," said Babberly, 
 " and if only that wretched little paper did you say 
 Conroy was in it ? " 
 
 " I'll write to Mr. Conroy at once," said Lady Moyne. 
 " I'm sure his connection with a paper of that kind is 
 simply a mistake." 
 
 She turned to the table and began to write her letter. 
 The secretary in a distant corner of the room was still 
 typing out a long pronouncement which Babberly in- 
 tended to forward to The Times. A minute or two 
 later Lady Moyne turned to me with one of her bright- 
 est smiles. 
 
 " We want you to be with us on the I2th," she said. 
 
 In England or Scotland a countess who gives an 
 invitation for " the I2th " is understood to mean the 
 1 2th of August, and her guest must be ready to shoot 
 grouse. In North-Eastern Ulster " the I2th " meant 
 the 1 2th of July, and the party, in this case at all 
 events, was likely to end in the shooting of policemen.
 
 106 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " At the Review ? " I said, " I mean to say the March 
 Past? But I never go to political meetings. I'm no 
 good at all as a speaker." 
 
 " Oh, it doesn't matter about your speaking. We 
 should love to hear you, of course. But if you'd really 
 rather not ! " 
 
 I think Lady Moyne was relieved when I assured 
 her that I really would rather not. 
 
 "But you'll be on the platform," she said. "We 
 want you very much indeed." 
 
 " I don't see," I said, " that I'll be the least use to 
 you." 
 
 " The point is," said Babberly, " that you're a Lib- 
 eral." 
 
 " Oh, you mustn't say that," said Lady Moyne. 
 " That's only foolish gossip. I'm perfectly certain 
 that Lord Kilmore never was " 
 
 " Never," I said. " But then I never was a Con- 
 servative either." 
 
 "That's just it," said Lady Moyne. "Don't you 
 see?" 
 
 " The point is," said Babberly, " that if you are on 
 the platform it will be quite clear I mean to say as 
 it's generally understood that you're inclined to Liber- 
 alism " 
 
 I began to understand a little. Last time I was at 
 Castle Affey Lady Moyne made a great point of my 
 associating myself with her party in opposing Home 
 Rule. The fact that I was a Liberal (though not in 
 any offensive sense of the word) gave weight to the 
 opposition; and I might help to make the other Lib- 
 erals (who were Liberals in the most offensive possible 
 sense) take the threats of Babberly seriously. This
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 107 
 
 time I was to sit on the platform side by side with 
 Malcolmson and Cahoon, because, being a Liberal, or 
 rather suspected of being inclined to Liberalism, my 
 presence might induce the other Liberals, who were 
 Liberals indeed, not to take Babberly's remarks at their 
 face value. That is the drawback to the kind of de- 
 tached position which I occupy. I am liable to be used 
 for such various purposes that I get confused. How- 
 ever, I ought, no doubt, to be very thankful that I am 
 useful in any way. 
 
 "If you think, my dear Lady Moyne," I said, " that 
 my presence at the March Past will be of the slightest 
 service to you " 
 
 " It will," she said. " It will, indeed, of the very 
 greatest service, and Moyne will be delighted." 
 
 I was thinking of Moyne when I made the promise. 
 I do not mean to say that I should have undertaken to 
 perch myself like a fool on a wooden platform in the 
 middle of a mob simply out of friendship for Moyne. 
 I would not have done it unless Lady Moyne had 
 looked at me with a particular expression in her eyes, 
 unless I had hoped that she would give my hand a 
 little squeeze of intimate friendship when I was bidding 
 her good night. Still I did think of Moyne too, and 
 was quite genuinely pleased that I was able to help 
 him out of a difficult position. 
 
 I found him later on roaming about among the cu- 
 cumber frames in a desolate corner of the garden. A 
 man who was digging potatoes directed me to that curi- 
 ous retreat. 
 
 "It's all right, Moyne," I said. "We've got the 
 whole thing settled most satisfactorily. You needn't 
 be afraid of any disagreeable public scandal."
 
 io8 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " Thank God ! " said Moyne, fervently. " How did 
 you manage it ? " 
 
 " I can't take any credit for the arrangement," I said. 
 " Lady Moyne and Babberly had it all cut and dried 
 before they consulted me at all." 
 
 " What are they going to do ? " 
 
 " Well, in the first place they've got Malcolmson and 
 the rest of that lot to stop calling the thing a Review. 
 It's to be officially known for the future as a March 
 Past." 
 
 " Who is to march past what ? " said Moyne. 
 
 " I forgot to ask that," I said, " but I rather fancy 
 the audience is to march past you." 
 
 " I don't see," said Moyne, " that there's much dif- 
 ference between calling it a March Past and calling it 
 a Review. They're both military terms; and what I 
 object to is being associated with 
 
 " Lady Moyne seemed to think," I said, " that it made 
 all the difference in the world; and that the Govern- 
 ment would grasp at the olive branch." 
 
 " I suppose it will be all right," said Moyne doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " The next part of the plan," I said, " is that I am to 
 be on the platform." 
 
 " You'll rather hate that, won't you, Kilmore ? " 
 
 " I shall detest it." 
 
 " And I don't see what good it will do." 
 
 " Nor do I ; but Lady Moyne and Babberly both say 
 that as I'm a Liberal " 
 
 " Surely to God you're not that ! " said Moyne. 
 
 " No, I'm not. But I'm suspected of being inclined 
 that way. Therefore my being on the platform will
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 109 
 
 prove to the world that you're not nearly so much 
 of a Unionist as you've been trying to make out." 
 
 " But I am," said Moyne. 
 
 " I know that, of course ; but Lady Moyne wants to 
 persuade people that you're not, just for the present, 
 till this fuss about the Review wears off." 
 
 " I suppose it will be all right," said Moyne, again. 
 
 It was all right. An announcement was made in all 
 the leading papers that no one had ever intended to 
 hold a Review on the I2th of July, but that the Unionist 
 leaders had expressed their unalterable determination 
 to have a March Past. The Liberal papers said that 
 this abandonment of the principal item on their pro- 
 gramme showed more distinctly than ever that the Ul- 
 ster Unionists were merely swaggering cowards who 
 retreated before the firm front showed by the Govern- 
 ment in face of their arrogant claims. The Unionist pa- 
 pers said that Belfast by insisting on the essential thing 
 while displaying a magnanimous disregard for the ac- 
 cidental nomenclature, had demonstrated once and for 
 ever the impossibility of passing the Home Rule Bill. 
 
 A few days later my name appeared amongst those 
 of other gentlemen who intended to take seats on the 
 platform in Belfast. The Unionist papers welcomed 
 the entry into public life of a peer of my well-known 
 intellectual powers and widely recognized moderation. 
 The Liberal papers said that the emptiness of Ulster's 
 opposition to Home Rule might be gauged by the fact 
 that it had welcomed the support of a dilettante lord- 
 ling.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 OUR meeting on the I2th of July was held in the 
 Botanic Gardens, and nobody marched past any- 
 thing. A platform, not unlike the Grand Stand at a 
 country race meeting, was built on the top of a long 
 slope of grass. At the bottom of the slope was a level 
 space, devoted at ordinary times to tennis-courts. Be- 
 yond that the ground sloped up again. The botanists 
 who owned the gardens must, I imagine, have regretted 
 that our meeting was a splendid success. I did not 
 see their grounds afterwards, but there cannot possibly 
 have been much grass left. The poor tennis-players 
 must have been cut off from their game for the rest 
 of the summer. The space in front of the platform 
 was packed with men, and the air was heavy with the 
 peculiarly pungent smell of orange peel. I cannot im- 
 agine how any one in the crowd managed to peel an 
 orange. The men seemed to be so tightly packed as to 
 make the smallest movement impossible. Possibly the 
 oranges were deliberately peeled beforehand by the or- 
 ganizers of the meeting with a view to creating the 
 proper atmosphere for the meeting. There certainly 
 is a connection between the smell of oranges and po- 
 litical enthusiasm. I felt a wave of strong feeling come 
 over me the moment I climbed to my seat; and as no 
 one had at that time made a speech, it can only have 
 been the oranges which affected me. I wish some phi- 
 losopher would work out a theory of oranges. The 
 
 no
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER in 
 
 blossom of the tree is used at weddings as a symbol 
 of enduring love, perhaps as an aid to affection. The 
 mature fruit pervades political meetings, which are all 
 called together with a view to promoting strife and 
 general ill feeling. What would happen if any one came 
 to a meeting crowned with the blossoms ? What would 
 become of a bride if she were decked with the fruit? 
 Is there any connection whatever between the fruit and 
 the lily? It is certainly associated with political action 
 of the most violent kind. 
 
 Poor Moyne, who took the chair, wore one of the 
 lilies, a very small one, in the lappel of his coat. Lady 
 Moyne carried a large bouquet of them. Babberly 
 wore one. So did Malcolmson. Our Dean would have 
 worn one if he could; but it is impossible to fix a 
 flower becomingly into the button-hole of a clerical 
 coat. We began by singing a hymn. The Dean de- 
 claimed the first two lines of it, and then the bands 
 took up the tune. Considering that there must have 
 been at least forty bands present, all playing, I think 
 we got through the hymn remarkably well. We cer- 
 tainly made an impressive amount of noise. I think 
 it was Babberly who suggested the hymn. He had 
 an idea that it would impress the English Noncon- 
 formists. I do not think it did; but, so far as our 
 meeting was concerned, that did not matter. We were 
 not singing it any of us, except Babberly with 
 a view to impressing other people. We were singing 
 with the feeling in our breasts, that we were actually 
 marching to battle under the divine protection. The 
 reporters of the Unionist papers made the most of 
 the prevailing emotion. They sent off telegrams of the 
 most flamboyant kind about our Puritan forefathers.
 
 Ii2 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 Poor Moyne, who is a deeply religious man, did not 
 sing the hymn. He has a theory that hymns and poli- 
 tics ought not to be mixed. I heard him arguing the 
 position afterwards with the Dean who maintained that 
 the question of Home Rule was not a political one. 
 Political questions are those, so he argued, with regard 
 to which there is a possibility of difference of opinion 
 among honest men. But all honest men are opposed 
 to Home Rule, which is therefore not a political ques- 
 tion. 
 
 My seat was in the very front of the platform, and 
 when we had finished the hymn I noticed that the smell 
 of perspiration was beginning to overpower the or- 
 anges. It is my misfortune to have an unusually acute 
 sense of smell. No one afflicted with such an infirmity 
 ought to take any part in the politics of a modern demo- 
 cratic state. 
 
 Moyne introduced Babberly to the audience, and 
 everybody cheered, although no one heard a word he 
 said. Moyne has not a good voice at any time, and his 
 objection to the hymn had made him nervous. 
 
 Babberly was not nervous, and he has a very good 
 voice. I imagine that at least half the audience heard 
 what he said, and the other half knew he was saying 
 the right things because the first half cheered him at 
 frequent intervals. 
 
 He began, of course, by saying that our forefathers 
 bled and died for the cause which we were determined 
 to support. This, so far as my forefathers and 
 Moyne's are concerned, is horribly untrue. The ances- 
 tors of both of us commanded regiments of the volun- 
 teers who achieved the only Home Rule Parliament 
 which ever sat in Ireland. My own great grandfather
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 113 
 
 afterwards exchanged his right to legislate in Dublin 
 for the peerage which I now enjoy. But Moyne and 
 I were no doubt in a minority in that assembly. Bab- 
 berly's forefathers may possibly have bled and died for 
 the Union ; but I do not think he can be sure about this. 
 His father lived in Leeds, and nobody, not even Bab- 
 berly himself, knows anything about his grandfather. 
 
 When the audience had stopped cheering Babberly's 
 forefathers, he went on to tell us that Belfast had the 
 largest shipbuilding yard, the largest tobacco factory, 
 the largest linen mill, and the second largest School of 
 Art Needlework in the United Kingdom. These facts 
 were treated by everybody as convincing reasons for 
 the rejection of the Home Rule Bill, and a man, who 
 was squeezed very tight against the platform just below 
 me, cursed the Pope several times with singular vin- 
 dictiveness. 
 
 Babberly's next statement was that he defied the pres- 
 ent Government to drive us out of the British Empire, 
 which we had taken a great deal of trouble in times 
 past to build up. This was, of course, a perfectly 
 safe defiance to utter ; for no one that I ever heard of 
 had proposed to drive Babberly, or me, or Moyne out 
 of the Empire. 
 
 Then we got to the core of Babberly's speech. Some 
 fool, it appeared, wanted to impeach Babberly, and 
 Babberly said that he wanted to be impeached. I am 
 a little hazy about the exact consequences of a suc- 
 cessful impeachment. There has not been one for a 
 long time; but I have an idea that the victim of the 
 process is called before the House of Lords and be- 
 headed. How far recent legislation may have curtailed 
 the powers of the House of Lords in the matter I do
 
 ii 4 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 not know; but even under our new constitution im- 
 peachment must remain a very serious matter. It was, 
 we all felt, most heroic of Babberly to face this kind 
 of undefined doom in the way he did. 
 
 This was the last thing which Babberly said in his 
 speech. He talked a great deal more, but he did not 
 say anything else which it is possible to write down. 
 I do not think I have ever heard any public speaker 
 equal to Babberly in eloquence. He gave one incon- 
 testable proof of his power as an orator that day in 
 Belfast. He must have spoken for very nearly an hour, 
 and yet no one noticed that he was not saying anything 
 for the greater part of the time. I did not notice it, and 
 probably should never have found it out if I had not tried 
 afterwards to write down what he said. 
 
 After Babberly came the Dean. I suffer a great 
 deal from the Dean's sermons on Sundays ; but I thor- 
 oughly enjoyed his speech. He is not Babberly's rival 
 in eloquence; but he has a knack of saying the kind of 
 things which people listen to. He began by telling us 
 what he would do if he found himself in command of 
 the forces of Ulster at the beginning of a great war. 
 " Lord Moyne," he said, " should organize my trans- 
 port and commissariat." 
 
 I cannot imagine any job at which Moyne would be 
 more certain to fail totally. But the Dean justified 
 himself. 
 
 " I have stopped in Lord Moyne's house," he said, 
 " and I know how well he manages the food supply 
 of a large establishment. My friend Mr. Babberly 
 should draw up the plan of campaign. His cautious 
 intellect should devise the schemes for circumventing 
 the wiles and stratagems of the enemy. He should
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 115 
 
 map out the ambuscades into which the opposing troops 
 should fall. You have listened to Mr. Babberly to-day. 
 You will agree with me about his fitness for the work 
 to which I should put him." 
 
 I had listened to Babberly and I did not agree with 
 the Dean. But I formed one of a very small minority. 
 Moyne began to look uneasy. It seemed to me that 
 he did not much like this military metaphor of the 
 Dean's. I imagine that he would have been still more 
 uncomfortable if he had been obliged to take an active 
 part in a campaign planned by Babberly. 
 
 " For the command of a forlorn hope," said the 
 Dean, " for the leading of a desperate charge, for the 
 midnight dash across the frontier " 
 
 Some one in the audience suggested the Boyne as the 
 boundary of the frontier. 
 
 " I should select Colonel Malcolmson." 
 
 The audience highly approved of his choice. It 
 seemed to me that the people did not quite grasp the 
 fact that the Dean was speaking only metaphorically. 
 Some thought of the same kind struck Moyne. He 
 fidgetted uneasily, Babberly made an effort to stop 
 the Dean, but that was impossible. 
 
 " For settling the terms of peace with the beaten 
 enemy " 
 
 " We'll beat them," said several people in the crowd. 
 
 " I should call upon my good friend Lord Kilmore." 
 
 This gave me a severe shock. For a moment I 
 thought of standing up and refusing to act as military 
 ambassador of the Ulster army. Then I recollected 
 that if Moyne managed the transport and Babberly 
 planned the campaign it was exceedingly unlikely that 
 there would be any beaten enemy. I kept my seat and
 
 n6 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 watched Babberly whispering earnestly to Lady Moyne. 
 
 Malcolmson followed the Dean. Moyne leaned over 
 to me and expressed a hope that Malcolmson was not 
 going to commit us to anything outrageous. From the 
 look of Malcolmson's eye as he rose I judged that 
 Moyne's hope was a vain one. 
 
 " The Dean," said Malcolmson, " has spoken to you 
 about the campaign. I ask you, are you prepared to 
 undertake one? " 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " said Moyne. 
 
 Babberly squeezed his way past Lady Moyne. 
 
 " This won't do," he said to Moyne, " Malcolmson 
 mustn't go too far." 
 
 " The Dean," said Malcolmson, " has told us where 
 to find our commanders. Looking round upon this 
 vast assembly of determined men I can tell the Dean 
 where to look for the rank and file of the army." 
 
 " You'll have to stop him," said Babberly. 
 
 I dare say the thought of the impeachment which was 
 hanging over his head made him nervous. 
 
 " I can't," said Lord Moyne. 
 
 " I ask those present here," said Malcolmson, " who, 
 when the supreme moment comes are prepared to step 
 forward into the ranks, to hold up their hands and 
 swear." 
 
 Malcolmson did not make it quite clear what oaths 
 we were to employ. But his audience appeared to un- 
 derstand him. Thousands of hands were held up and 
 there was a kind of loud, fierce growl, which I took 
 to be the swearing. Lord Moyne turned to me. 
 
 " What am I to do, Kilmore ? " 
 
 " I don't know," I said. 
 
 Malcolmson and the ten or twelve thousand men in
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 117 
 
 front of him were still growling like a very angry 
 thunderstorm at a distance. The thing was exceed- 
 ingly impressive. Then some one started the hymn 
 again. I never heard a hymn sung in such a way be- 
 fore. If the explosions of large guns could be tuned 
 to the notes of an octave the effect of firing them off, 
 fully loaded with cannon balls, would be very much 
 the same. Malcolmson, beating time very slowly with 
 his hand from the front of the platform, controlled 
 this human artillery. Lady Moyne came to me and 
 shouted in my ear. It was necessary to shout on ac- 
 count of the terrific noise made by Malcolmson's 
 hymn. 
 
 " As soon as he sits down you'll have to get up and 
 say something." 
 
 " I can't," I yelled. " I'm no good at all as a public 
 speaker." 
 
 The beginning of Lady Moyne's next shout I could 
 not hear at all. Only the last words reached me. 
 
 " on account of your being a Liberal, you know." 
 
 For the first time since I have known her I refused 
 to do what Lady Moyne asked me. Very likely I 
 should have given in at last and made an indescribable 
 fool of myself ; but before she succeeded in persuading 
 me, Malcolmson's hymn stopped. Malcolmson him- 
 self, apparently satisfied with his performance, sat 
 down. 
 
 " What on earth am I to do ? " said Moyne. 
 
 " You can write to the papers, to-morrow," I said. 
 
 " But now ? " said Moyne, " now." 
 
 " The only thing I can think of," I said, " is to start 
 them singing ' God Save the King.' That will commit 
 them more or less at least it may."
 
 n8 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 Moyne rose to his feet and asked all the bands pres- 
 ent to play " God Save the King." Babberly backed 
 him and the bands struck up. 
 
 Considering that the audience had just pledged them- 
 selves with inarticulate oaths and most terrifying 
 psalmody to march in Malcolmson's army, their en- 
 thusiasm for the King was striking. They sang the 
 National Anthem quite as whole-heartedly as they had 
 sung the hymn. They are a very curious people, these 
 fellow-countrymen of mine. 
 
 Moyne cheered up a little when we got back to the 
 club. 
 
 " That was a capital idea of yours, Kilmore," he 
 said. " I don't see how they can very well accuse us 
 of being rebels after the way we sang the National 
 Anthem." 
 
 " I wonder if they'll impeach Babberly," I said. 
 
 " Oh, that's only a Labour Member," said Moyne. 
 " He doesn't really mean it. Those fellows never do." 
 
 " Do you think our people really meant it to-day ? " 
 I said. 
 
 "Meant what? God Save the King? Of course 
 they did." 
 
 " I was thinking of the hymn," I said. 
 
 " I hope to God," said Moyne, " they didn't mean 
 that." 
 
 This is a curious view of hymn-singing for a religious 
 man to take.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 I CANNOT make out why everybody thinks I am 
 a Liberal. Lady Moyne was the first who men- 
 tioned to me this slur on my character. Babberly evi- 
 dently believed it. Then, shortly after the Belfast meet- 
 ing, I had a letter, marked " Private and Confidential," 
 from Sir Samuel Clithering. Although Clithering is 
 not a member of the Government, he is in close touch 
 with several very important Ministers. Under ordi- 
 nary circumstances I should not mention Clithering's 
 name in telling the story of his letter. I know him to 
 be a conscientious, scrupulously honourable man, and 
 I should hate to give him pain. Under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances, that is, if things had gone in Ulster in the 
 way things usually do go, Clithering would have felt 
 it necessary to assert publicly in the papers that he 
 did not write the letter. This would have been very 
 disagreeable for him because he does not like telling 
 lies; and the unpleasantness would certainly be ag- 
 gravated by the fact that nobody would believe him. 
 So many important and exciting things, however, have 
 happened in Ulster since I got the letter that I do not 
 think Clithering will now want to deny that he wrote 
 it. I have, therefore, no hesitation in mentioning his 
 name. 
 
 This letter was written in the best politico-diplomatic 
 style. I had to read it nine times before I could find 
 out what it was about. When I did find out I made a 
 translation of it into the English of ordinary life, so as 
 
 119
 
 120 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 to make quite sure of not acting beyond my instruc- 
 tions. I was first of all complimented on not being 
 a party politician. This, coming from one of the Gov- 
 ernment wire-pullers, meant, of course, that I was in 
 his opinion a strong Liberal. I have noticed for years 
 that the only party politicians in these islands are the 
 people who are active on the other side ; and that party 
 politics are the other side's programme. My corre- 
 spondent evidently agreed with Lady Moyne and Bab- 
 berly that as I was not a Conservative, I must be a 
 supporter of the Government. 
 
 Having made this quite unwarranted assumption, the 
 letter went on to suggest that I should ask Conroy if 
 he would like a peerage. The point was not made 
 quite clear, but I gathered that Conroy could have any 
 kind of title that he liked, up to an earldom. I know, 
 of course, that peerages are given in exchange for sub- 
 scriptions to party funds, by the party, whichever it 
 may be, which receives the subscriptions. I did not 
 know before that peerages were ever given with a view 
 to inducing the happy recipient not to subscribe to the 
 funds of the other party. But in Conroy's case this 
 must have been the motive which lay behind the offer. 
 He had certainly given Lady Moyne a handsome 
 cheque. He was financing McNeice's little paper in 
 the most liberal way. He had, I suspected, supplied 
 Crossan with the motor car in which he went about 
 the country tuning up the Orange Lodges. It seemed 
 quite likely it was his money with which Rose's young 
 man bought the gold brooch which had attracted Mar- 
 ion's attention. Conroy was undoubtedly subsidizing 
 Ulster Unionism very generously. I suppose it must 
 have been worth while to stop this flow of money.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 121 
 
 Hence the suggestion that Conroy might be given a 
 peerage. This, at least, was the explanation of the 
 letter which I adopted at the time. I have since had 
 reason to suppose that the Government knew more than 
 I did about the way Conroy was spending his money, 
 and was nervous about something more important than 
 Babberly's occasional demonstrations. 
 
 My first impulse was to burn the letter and tell my 
 correspondent that I was not a politician of any sort, 
 and did not care for doing this kind of work. Then 
 my curiosity got the better of my sense of honour. 
 A man cannot, I think, be both an historian and a gen- 
 tleman. It is an essential part of the character of a 
 gentleman that he should dislike prying into other peo- 
 ple's secrets. The business of the historian, on the 
 other hand, is to rake about if necessary through dust- 
 bins, until he finds out the reasons, generally disreputa- 
 ble, why things are done. A gentleman displays a 
 dignified superiority to the vice of curiosity. For the 
 historian curiosity is a virtue. I am, I find, more of 
 an historian than a gentleman. I wanted very much 
 to find out how Conroy would take the offer of a peer- 
 age. I also wanted to understand thoroughly why the 
 offer was made. 
 
 Some weeks were to pass before I learned the Gov- 
 ernment's real reason for wanting to detach Conroy 
 from the Unionist cause; but luck favoured me in the 
 matter of sounding Conroy himself. I had a letter 
 from him in which he said that he was coming to our 
 neighbourhood for a few days. I immediately asked 
 him to stay with me. 
 
 Then I tried, very foolishly, to make my nephew 
 Godfrey feel uncomfortable.
 
 122 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " Conroy," I said, " is coming here to stay with me 
 next Tuesday." 
 
 " How splendid ! " said Godfrey. " I say, Excel- 
 lency, you will ask me up to dinner every night he's 
 here, won't you?" 
 
 " I thought," I said, " that you wouldn't like to meet 
 Conroy." 
 
 " Of course I'd like to meet him. He might give me 
 a job of some kind or get me one. A man like that 
 with millions of money must have plenty of jobs to give 
 away." 
 
 When Godfrey speaks of a job he means a salary. 
 Nearly everybody does. 
 
 " If I can only get the chance of making myself 
 agreeable to him," said Godfrey, " I'm sure I'll be able 
 to get something out of him." 
 
 " I'm surprised," I said, " at your wanting to meet 
 him at all. After the post-card he wrote you " 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind that in the least," said Godfrey. 
 " I never take offence." 
 
 This is, indeed, one of Godfrey's chief vices. He 
 never does take offence. It was Talleyrand, I think, 
 who said that no man need ever get angry about any- 
 thing said by a woman or a bishop. Godfrey im- 
 proves on this philosophy. He never gets angry with 
 any one except those whom he regards as his inferiors. 
 
 " It would be a good opportunity," said Godfrey, 
 " for your second menagerie party. We've only had 
 one this year. I expect it would amuse Conroy." 
 
 " I'm nearly sure it wouldn't." 
 
 " We'll have to do something in the way of enter- 
 taining while he's here," said Godfrey. " I suppose 
 you'll have the Moynes over to dinner ? "
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 123 
 
 I knew that the Moynes were in London, so I told 
 Godfrey that he could write and ask them if he liked. 
 I tried to be firm in my opposition to the garden-party, 
 but Godfrey wore me down. It was fixed for Wednes- 
 day, and invitations were sent out. I discovered after- 
 wards that Godfrey told his particular friends that they 
 were to have the honour of meeting a real millionaire. 
 In the case of the Pringles he went so far as to hint 
 that Conroy was very likely to give him a lucrative post. 
 On the strength of this expectation, Pringle, who is an 
 easy man to deceive, allowed Godfrey to cash a cheque 
 for 10. 
 
 Conroy arrived on Sunday afternoon, travelling, as 
 a millionaire should, in a motor car. Godfrey dined 
 with us that night, and made himself as agreeable as 
 he could. Conroy had, apparently, forgotten all about 
 the post-card. I did not get a minute alone with my 
 guest that night and so could do nothing about the 
 peerage. I thought of approaching him on the sub- 
 ject next morning after breakfast, though that is not a 
 good hour for delicate negotiations. But even if I 
 had been willing to attack him then, I hardly had the 
 chance. Godfrey was up with us at half-past ten. He 
 wanted to take Conroy on a personally conducted tour 
 round the objects of interest in the neighbourhood. 
 Conroy said he wanted to go to the house of a man 
 called Crossan who lived somewhere near us, and would 
 be very glad if Godfrey would act as guide. It is 
 a remarkable proof of Godfrey's great respect for mil- 
 lionaires that he consented to show Conroy the way to 
 Crossan's house. They went off together, and I saw 
 no more of Conroy till dinner-time. 
 
 He deliberately avoided my garden-party, although
 
 124 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 Godfrey had explained to him the night before that 
 my guests would be " quite the funniest lot of bounders 
 to be found anywhere." 
 
 The Pringles must have been disappointed at not 
 meeting Conroy. Miss Pringle, whose name I found 
 out was Tottie, looked quite pretty in a pink dress, 
 and smiled almost as nicely as she did when Bob Power 
 took her to gather strawberries. Mrs. Pringle asked 
 Godfrey to dine with them that night, and Tottie looked 
 at him out of the corner of her eyes so as to show him 
 that she would be pleased if he accepted the invitation. 
 Pringle himself joined in pressing Godfrey. I sup- 
 pose he must really have believed in the salary which 
 Godfrey expected to get from Conroy. 
 
 Godfrey promised to dine with them. He explained 
 his position to me afterwards. 
 
 " I needn't tell you, Excellency," he said, " that I 
 don't want to go there. I shall get a rotten bad dinner 
 and Mrs. Pringle is a rank outsider." 
 
 " Miss Pringle," I said, " seems a pleasant girl. 
 She's certainly pretty." 
 
 " Poor little Tottie !" said Godfrey. " That sort of 
 girl isn't bad fun sometimes ; but I wouldn't put up 
 with boiled mutton just for the sake of a kiss or two 
 from her. The fact is " 
 
 " Your banking account," I said. 
 
 " That's it," said Godfrey. " Pringle's directors have 
 been writing rather nasty letters lately. It's perfectly 
 all right, of course, and I told him so ; but all the same 
 it's better to accept his invitation." 
 
 Godfrey is the most unmitigated blackguard I've ever 
 met.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 125 
 
 " I hardly see Tottie Pringle as the next Lady Kil- 
 more," said Godfrey ; " but, of course, that's the game." 
 
 I do not believe it. Tottie Pringle I do not for 
 a moment believe that she ever allowed Godfrey to kiss 
 her does not look the kind of girl who 
 
 " You'll make my excuses to Conroy, won't you, Ex- 
 cellency? Tell him " 
 
 " What is the exact amount of the over-draft ? " I 
 said ; " he'll probably want to know." 
 
 " Better not say anything about that," said Godfrey. 
 " Tell him I had a business engagement." 
 
 Godfrey's necessity gave me my opportunity. I had 
 Conroy all to myself after dinner, and I sounded him 
 very cautiously about the title. The business turned 
 out to be much more difficult than I expected. At first 
 Conroy was singularly obtuse. He did not seem to 
 understand what I was hinting at. There was really 
 no excuse for him. Our surroundings were very well 
 suited for delicate negotiations. I had given him a 
 bottle of champagne at dinner. I had some excellent 
 port on the table afterwards. My dining-room is a 
 handsome apartment, a kind of large hall with a 
 vaulted roof. The light of the candles on the table 
 mingled in a pleasantly mysterious way with the twi- 
 light of the summer evening. The long windows lay 
 wide open and a heavy scent of lilies crept into the 
 room. The lamp on the sideboard behind me lit up the 
 impressive portrait of my great grandfather in the uni- 
 form of a captain of volunteers, the Irish volunteers 
 of 1780. Any one, I should have supposed, would have 
 walked delicately among hints and suggestions in such 
 an atmosphere, among such surroundings. But Con-
 
 126 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 roy would not. I was forced at last to speak rather 
 more plainly than I had intended to. Then Conroy 
 turned on me. 
 
 " What does your Government think I should want 
 the darned thing for ? " he said. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I suppose the usual reasons." 
 
 " What are they ? " said Conroy, " for I'm damned if 
 I know." 
 
 " Well," I said, " when you put it that way I don't 
 know that I can exactly explain. But most people like 
 it. I like it myself, although I'm pretty well used to 
 it. I imagine it would be much nicer when you came 
 to it quite fresh. If you happen to be going over to 
 London, you know, it's rather pleasant to have the fel- 
 low who runs the sleeping-car bustling the other people 
 out of the way and calling you ' my lord.' " 
 
 Conroy sat in grim silence. 
 
 " There's more than that in it," I said. " That's only 
 an example, quite a small example of the kind of thing 
 I mean. But those little things count, you know. And, 
 of course, the extra tip that the fellow expects in the 
 morning wouldn't matter to you." 
 
 Conroy still declined to make any answer. I began 
 to feel hot and flurried. 
 
 " There are other points, too," I went on. " For in- 
 stance a quite pretty girl called Tottie Pringle wants to 
 marry my nephew Godfrey at least he says she does 
 simply because he'll be Lord Kilmore when I'm dead. 
 You've met my nephew Godfrey, so you'll realize that 
 she can't possibly have any other motive." 
 
 " What," said Conroy, " does your Government ex- 
 pect me to do in return for making me attractive to 
 Tottie Pringle?"
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 127 
 
 " It's not my Government," I said. " I'm not mixed 
 up with it or responsible for it in any way." 
 
 " I always understood," said Conroy, " that you are 
 a Liberal." 
 
 " Everybody understands that," I said, " and it's no 
 use my contradicting it. As for what the Government 
 wants you to do, I haven't been actually told; but I 
 fancy you'd be expected to stop giving subscriptions to 
 Lady Moyne." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 " That's all I can think of. But, of course, there may 
 be other things." 
 
 " I reckon," said Conroy, " that your Government 
 can't be quite fool enough to mind much about what 
 Lady Moyne does with my money. The pennies she 
 drops into the slot so as to make Babberly talk won't 
 hurt them any." 
 
 This was very much my own opinion. If I were a 
 member of the government I rather think I actually 
 was, a few weeks later Babberly would merely stim- 
 ulate me. 
 
 " You can tell your Government from me " said 
 Conroy. 
 
 " It's not my Government." 
 
 " Well tell that Government from me, that when I 
 want a title I'll put down the full market price. At 
 present I'm not taking any." 
 
 Next day Conroy went off with Crossan in his motor 
 car. He did not come back. I got a telegram from 
 him later in the afternoon asking me to forward his 
 luggage to Belfast. I forget the excuse he made for 
 treating me in this very free and easy way; but there 
 was an excuse, I know, probably quite a long one, for
 
 128 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 the telegram filled three sheets of the paper which the 
 post-office uses for these messages. 
 
 Conroy's sudden departure was a bitter sorrow and 
 disappointment to Godfrey. He came up to dinner 
 that night with three new pearl studs in the front of his 
 shirt. 
 
 " What I can't understand," he said, " is why a man 
 like Conroy should spend his time with your upper serv- 
 ants; people like Crossan, whom I shouldn't dream of 
 shaking hands with." 
 
 " I'm afraid," I said, " that he's not going to give you 
 that job you hoped for." 
 
 " He may," said Godfrey. " I think he liked me right 
 enough. If only he could be got to believe that Power 
 is robbing him right and left." 
 
 "But is he?" 
 
 " He's doing what practically comes to the same 
 thing. Once Conroy finds out and he will some day 
 I should think I'd have a middling good chance of 
 getting his secretaryship. He must have a gentleman 
 for that job, otherwise he'd never be able to get along 
 at all. I don't suppose he knows how to do things a 
 bit. He evidently doesn't know how to behave. Look 
 at the way he's gone on with Crossan since he's been 
 here. Now if I were his secretary " 
 
 Godfrey mumbled on. He evidently has hopes of 
 ousting Bob Power. He may possibly succeed in doing 
 so. Godfrey has all the cunning characteristic of the 
 criminal lunatic. 
 
 Three days later he got his chance of dealing with 
 Bob Power. The Finola anchored in our bay again and 
 Bob Power was in command of her.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 BOB POWER spent the afternoon with us. Strictly 
 speaking, I ought to say he spent the afternoon 
 with Marion. I only saw him at tea-time. He let me 
 understand then that he would like to stay and dine 
 with us. I felt that I ought to be vexed at the prospect 
 of losing another quiet evening. Conroy had cost me 
 two evenings. My visit to Castle Affey, my political 
 March Past, and my expedition to Dublin had robbed 
 me of nine others. I could ill afford to spare a twelfth 
 to Bob Power. Yet I felt unreasonably pleased when 
 he promised to dine with us. There is a certain flavour 
 of the sea about Bob, a sense of boisterous good fel- 
 lowship, a joyous irresponsibility, which would have 
 been attractive to me at any time, and were singularly 
 pleasant after my political experiences. I was not at 
 all so well pleased when a note arrived from Godfrey 
 in which he asked whether he too could dine with us. 
 
 He arrived long before dinner, before I had gone up- 
 stairs to dress, and explained himself. 
 
 " I heard," he said, " that Power was up here, so I 
 thought I'd better come too." 
 
 " How lucky it is," I said, " that Pringle didn't invite 
 you to-night." 
 
 " I shouldn't have gone if he had. I should have con- 
 sidered it my duty to come here. After all, Excellency, 
 some one ought to look after Marion a bit." 
 
 129
 
 130 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " For the matter of that," I said, " some one ought 
 to look after Tottie Pringle." 
 
 " You never can tell," said Godfrey, " what silly fancy 
 a girl will take into her head, and that fellow Power is 
 just the sort who might 
 
 Godfrey nodded sagaciously. It has always been un- 
 derstood that Godfrey is to marry Marion at some fu- 
 ture time. I have always understood this and, on per- 
 sonal grounds, dislike it very much; though I do not 
 deny that the arrangement is convenient. My title is 
 not a very ancient or particularly honourable one, but 
 I do not like to think of its being dragged in the gutter 
 by a pauper. If Godfrey married Marion he would 
 have the use of her income. Godfrey has certainly un- 
 derstood this plan for the future. He may treat him- 
 self occasionally to the kisses of Tottie Pringle, but he 
 is not the man to allow kissing to interfere with his 
 prospect of earning a competence. Whether Marion 
 understood her fate or not, I do not know. She al- 
 ways endured Godfrey with patience. I suppose that 
 this condition of affairs gave Godfrey a certain right 
 to nod sagaciously when he spoke of looking after 
 Marion. But I resented both his tone and the things 
 he said. I left him and went up to dress. 
 
 Marion's behaviour during the evening fully justified 
 Godfrey's fears, though I do not think that anything 
 would have excused him for expressing them to me. 
 She was amazingly cheerful during dinner, and in so 
 good a temper, that she continued smiling at Godfrey 
 even when he scowled at her. Bob Power was breezily 
 agreeable, and I should have thoroughly enjoyed the 
 stories he told us if I had not been conscious all the 
 time that Godfrey was frowning at my right ear. He
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 131 
 
 sat on that side of me and Bob Power on the other, so 
 my ear was, most of the time, the nearest thing to my 
 face that Godfrey could frown at. 
 
 After dinner Bob and Marion behaved really badly ; 
 not to Godfrey, but to me. No one could behave badly 
 to Godfrey because he always deserves worse than the 
 worst that is done to him. But I am not a very ob- 
 jectionable person, and I have during the last twenty- 
 two years shown a good deal of kindness to Marion. 
 I do not think that she and Bob ought to have slipped 
 out of the drawing-room window after singing one 
 short song, and left me to be worried by Godfrey for 
 the whole evening. Only one way of escape presented 
 itself to me. I pretended to go to sleep. That stopped 
 Godfrey talking after a time ; but not until I had found it 
 necessary to snore. I heard every word he said up to 
 that point. I woke up with a very good imitation of a 
 start when Bob and Marion came in again. That hap- 
 pened at ten o'clock, and Bob immediately said good 
 night. Under ordinary circumstances Godfrey stays on 
 till nearly eleven ; but that night he went away five 
 minutes after Bob left. 
 
 Next morning there was trouble. It began with 
 Marion's behaviour at breakfast. As a rule she is a 
 young woman of placid and equable temper, one who 
 is likely in the future to have a soothing effect on her 
 husband. That morning she was very nearly hysterical. 
 When we went into my study after breakfast she was 
 quite incapable of work, and could not lay her hands on 
 any of the papers which I particularly wanted. I was 
 irritated at the moment, but I recognized afterwards 
 that she had some excuse, and in any case my morning's 
 work would have been interrupted.
 
 132 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 At half-past ten I got a note from Godfrey written 
 in pencil and almost illegible in which he asked me to 
 go down to see him at once. He said that he was in 
 severe pain and for the time confined to bed. 
 
 " You're sure," he said, " to have heard a garbled 
 account of what happened, before you get this letter. 
 I want to tell you the facts before I take further ac- 
 tion." 
 
 The word " facts " was underlined shakily. I had, 
 of course, heard no account of anything which had hap- 
 pened. I handed the letter to Marion. 
 
 " Do you know what this means ? " I asked. 
 
 Marion read it. 
 
 " Rose told me this morning," she said, " that there 
 had been some kind of a row last night. She said God- 
 frey was killed." 
 
 " That isn't true at all events," I said. " He's still 
 alive." 
 
 " Of course I didn't believe her," said Marion. 
 
 " But I think you ought to have told me at break- 
 fast," I said. " I hate having these things sprung on 
 me suddenly. At my time of life even good news ought 
 to be broken to me gradually. Any sudden shock is bad 
 for the heart." 
 
 " I thought there might be no truth in the story at 
 all," said Marion, " and you know, father, that you 
 don't like being worried." 
 
 I don't. But I am worried a great deal. 
 
 " I suppose," I said, " that I'd better go down and 
 see him. He says he's in great pain, so he's not likely 
 to be agreeable; but still I'd better go." 
 
 " Do," said Marion ; " and, of course, if there's any- 
 thing I can do, anything I can send down to him "
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 133 
 
 " I don't expect he's as bad as all that," I said. 
 " Men like Godfrey are never seriously hurt. But if 
 he expresses a wish for chicken jelly I'll let you know 
 at once." 
 
 I started at once. I met Bob Power just outside my 
 own gate. He was evidently a little embarrassed, but 
 he spoke to me with the greatest frankness. 
 
 " I'm extremely sorry, Lord Kilmore," he said, " but 
 I am afraid I hurt your nephew last night." 
 
 "Badly?" 
 
 " Not very," said Bob. " Collar bone and a couple of 
 ribs. I saw the doctor this morning." 
 
 "Broken?" 
 
 " Yes. It wasn't altogether my fault. I mean to 
 say" 
 
 " I'm sure it was altogether Godfrey's," I said. 
 " The thing which surprises me is that nobody ever did 
 it before. Godfrey is nearly thirty, so for twenty years 
 at least every man he has met must have been tempted 
 to break his ribs. We must, in spite of what 
 everybody says, be a Christian nation. If we were 
 not" 
 
 " He would keep following me about," said Bob. 
 " I told him several times to clear away and go home. 
 But he wouldn't." 
 
 " He has a fixed idea that you're engaged in smug- 
 glmg." 
 
 " Even if I was," said Bob, " it would be no busi- 
 ness of his." 
 
 " That's just why he mixes himself up in it. If it 
 had been his business he wouldn't have touched it. 
 There's nothing Godfrey hates more than doing any- 
 thing he ought to do."
 
 i 3 4 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " I'm awfully glad you take it that way," said Bob. 
 " I was afraid " 
 
 " My dear fellow," I said, " I'm delighted. But you 
 haven't told me yet exactly how it happened." 
 
 " I was moving a packing-case," said Bob, " a rather 
 large one " 
 
 He hesitated. I think he felt that the packing-case 
 might require some explanation, especially as it was 
 being moved at about eleven o'clock at night. I has- 
 tened to reassure him. 
 
 " Quite a proper thing for you to be doing," I said, 
 " and certainly no business of Godfrey's. Every one 
 has a perfect right to move packing-cases about from 
 place to place." 
 
 " He told me he was going for the police, so " 
 
 " I don't think you need have taken any notice of 
 that threat. The police know Godfrey quite well. 
 They hate being worried just as much as I do." 
 
 " So I knocked him down." 
 
 " You must have hit him in several places at once," 
 I said, " to have broken so many bones." 
 
 " The fact is," said Bob, " that he got up again." 
 
 " That's just the sort of thing he would do. Any 
 man of ordinary good feeling would have known that 
 when he was knocked down he was meant to stay 
 down." 
 
 ''' Then the two other men who were with me, young 
 fellows out of the town, set on him." 
 
 " Was one of them particularly freckly? " I asked. 
 
 " I didn't notice. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " If he was it would account for my daughter's maid 
 getting hold of an inaccurate version of the story this
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 135 
 
 morning. But it doesn't matter. Go on with what 
 you were saying." 
 
 " There isn't any more," said Bob. " They ham- 
 mered him, and then we carried him home. That's 
 all." 
 
 " I am going down to see him now," I said. " He's 
 thinking of taking further action." 
 
 "Let him," said Bob. "Is Miss D'Aubigny at 
 home?" 
 
 " Yes, she is. If you're going up to see her " 
 
 " I would," said Bob, " if I thought she wouldn't be 
 angry with me." 
 
 " She's nervous," I said, " and excited ; but she didn't 
 seem angry." 
 
 Just outside the town I met Crossan and, very much 
 to my surprise, McNeice walking with him. Crossan 
 handed me a letter. I put it into my pocket and 
 greeted McNeice. 
 
 " I did not know you were here," I said. " When 
 did you come ? " 
 
 " Last night," said McNeice. " Crossan brought me 
 on his motor." 
 
 " Were you in time for the scrimmage ? " 
 
 " You'd maybe better read the letter I've given you, 
 my lord," said Crossan. 
 
 " If I'd been there," said McNeice, " your nephew 
 would probably be dead now. In my opinion he ought 
 to be." 
 
 " The letter I've just given your lordship," said 
 Crossan, " is an important one." 
 
 " I'm sure it is," I said. " But I haven't time to read 
 it now."
 
 13.6 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " What's in it, my lord, is this. I'm resigning the 
 management of your business here, and the sooner 
 you're suited with a new man the better." 
 
 " If my nephew Godfrey has been worrying you, 
 Crossan," I said, " I'll take steps " 
 
 " It's not that, my lord. For all the harm his talk 
 ever did me I'd stay on. But " 
 
 He looked at McNeice as if asking permission to say 
 more. 
 
 " Political business," said McNeice. 
 
 " Of course," I said, " if it's a matter of politics, 
 everything must give way to politics. But I'm very 
 sorry to lose you, Crossan. My business affairs 
 
 " You'll have no business affairs left, my lord, if the 
 Home Rule Bill passes." 
 
 " But you're going to stop it," I said. 
 
 " We are," said Crossan. 
 
 He certainly believed that he was. At the present 
 moment he believes that he did stop it. 
 
 I found Godfrey propped up in bed. His face had 
 a curiously unbalanced appearance owing to the way in 
 which one side of his jaw was swollen. Bob Power's 
 original blow must have been a hard one. I noticed 
 when he spoke that one of his eye teeth was broken 
 off short. He began to pour out his complaint the mo- 
 ment I entered the room. 
 
 " A murderous assault was made on me last night," 
 he said. " After I left your house I walked down " 
 " Don't talk if it hurts you, Godfrey," I said. 
 He was speaking in a muffled way which led me to 
 think that the inside of his mouth must be nearly as 
 much swollen as the outside. 
 
 " That fellow Power had a band of ruffians with him,
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 137 
 
 If he had fought fair I shouldn't have minded, 
 but " 
 
 " What were you doing," I said, " to make him at- 
 tack you? He must have had some reason." 
 
 " I wasn't doing anything. I was simply looking on." 
 
 " That may have been the most objectionable thing 
 possible," I said. " I don't say that his violence was 
 justified; but it may have been quite excusable if you 
 insisted on looking on at something which he didn't 
 want you to see." 
 
 Godfrey actually tried to smile. He could not do so, 
 of course, on account of the condition of his mouth, 
 but I judged by the expression of his eyes that he was 
 trying to. Godfrey's smiles are always either malicious 
 or idiotic. This one, if it had come off, would have 
 been malicious. 
 
 " I saw all I wanted to," he said, " before they at- 
 tacked me. In fact, I was just going for the police " 
 
 " I suppose you sent for the police this morning ? " 
 I said. 
 
 " No, I didn't. I don't trust the police. I wouldn't 
 trust the magistrates here, except you, of course, Ex- 
 cellency. What I'm going to do is write to the Chan- 
 cellor of the Exchequer." 
 
 " Good gracious, Godfrey ! Why the Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer? What interest can you expect him to 
 take in your fights? If you are going to make a po- 
 litical matter of it at all, you'd far better try the Secre- 
 tary of State for War. It's much more in his line." 
 
 " But the Chancellor of the Exchequer is the man 
 who's responsible for the revenue, isn't he ? " 
 
 " You can't expect him to give you a pension sim- 
 ply because Power knocked out your teeth."
 
 138 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " He'll stop Power smuggling," said Godfrey. 
 
 " I suppose," I said, " that it's no use my telling you 
 that he was not smuggling?" 
 
 " I saw him at it," said Godfrey, " and I'm going to 
 write to the Chancellor of the Exchequer." 
 
 " What on earth do you expect to gain by that ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " He ought to be grateful to me for putting him on 
 the track of the smuggling," said Godfrey. " I should 
 think he'd want to do something for me afterwards. 
 He might" 
 
 " Give you a job," I said. 
 
 "Yes," said Godfrey. " I always heard that fellows 
 in the Treasury got good salaries." 
 
 I was greatly relieved when I left Godfrey. I ex- 
 pected that he would want to take some sort of legal 
 proceedings against Bob Power which would have in- 
 volved us all in a great deal of unpleasantness. I 
 should not have been surprised if he had tried to black- 
 mail Bob or Conroy, or both, and I should have dis- 
 liked that very much. But his letter to the Chancellor 
 of the Exchequer seemed to be merely foolish. In the 
 first place Bob Power was not smuggling. In the next 
 place the Chancellor of the Exchequer would never see 
 Godfrey's letter. It would be opened, I supposed, by 
 some kind of clerk or secretary. He would giggle over 
 it and show it to a friend. He would also giggle. 
 Then unless the spelling was unusually eccentric the 
 letter would go into the waste-paper basket. Nothing 
 whatever would happen. 
 
 I was, I own, entirely wrong. The Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer did see the letter. I take that for 
 granted, because the Prime Minister saw it, and I can-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 139 
 
 not see how it could have got to him except through 
 the Chancellor of the Exchequer. The spelling may 
 have been as bad as Godfrey's spelling usually is, but 
 the letter evidently gave a detailed account of what had 
 happened, the kind of account which impresses people 
 as being true. The letter was, in fact, the first direct 
 evidence the Government got about what Conroy and 
 McNeice and Bob were doing. I dare say there were 
 suspicions abroad before. The offer of a peerage to 
 Conroy showed that there was good reason to placate 
 him. But it was Godfrey's absurd letter which first 
 suggested to the minds of the Cabinet that Conroy was 
 using his yacht, the Finola, for importing arms into 
 Ulster. Even then I do not think that anybody in 
 authority suspected how thoroughly Conroy and 
 Bob were doing the work. They may have thought 
 of a cargo of rifles, and a few thousand cartridges. 
 The existence of the Ulster artillery was a surprise 
 to them at the very moment when the guns first 
 opened fire. 
 
 So far from having no consequences at all, Godfrey's 
 ridiculous letter actually precipitated the conflict which 
 took place. I do not think that it made any difference 
 to the result of the fighting. That would have been the 
 same whether the fighting came a little sooner or a 
 little later. But the letter and the action of the Gov- 
 ernment which followed it certainly disorganized Con- 
 roy's plans and hustled McNeice. 
 
 I found McNeice in my study when I got home. I 
 told him, by way of a joke, about the letter which God- 
 frey intended to write. To my surprise he did not treat 
 it as a joke. I suppose he realized at once what the 
 consequences of such a letter might be.
 
 I 4 o THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " They ought to have put him past writing letters," 
 he growled, " when they had him." 
 
 Then, without even saying good-bye to me, he got 
 up and left the room. In less than an hour he and 
 Crossan were rushing off somewhere in their motor car. 
 They may have gone to hold a consultation with Con- 
 roy. He was in Belfast at the time. 
 
 I found Bob Power and Marion in the garden, but not, 
 as I expected, eating gooseberries. They were sitting to- 
 gether on a seat opposite a small artificial pond in 
 which I try to keep gold fish. When I came upon 
 them they were sitting up straight, and both of them 
 were gazing intently into the pond. This surprised 
 me, because all the last consignment of gold fish had 
 died, and there was nothing in the pond to look at. 
 
 I told Bob about Godfrey and the letter to the Chan- 
 cellor of the Exchequer. His reception of the news 
 was even more disappointing than McNeice's was. He 
 neither laughed, as I hoped, nor even scowled. In 
 fact, if I had not spoken quite distinctly, I should have 
 thought that he did not hear what I said. 
 
 " Lord Kilmore," he said, " I think I ought to tell you 
 at once " 
 
 Then he stopped and looked at Marion. She became 
 very red in the face. 
 
 " Father," she said, " Bob and I " 
 
 Then she stopped too. I waited for a long time. 
 Neither of them did more than begin a sentence; but 
 Bob took Marion's hand and held it tight. I thought 
 it better to try to help them out. 
 
 " I don't know," I said, " whether I've guessed 
 rightly " 
 
 " Of course you have, father," said Marion.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 141 
 
 " If not," I said, " it'll be very embarrassing for all 
 of us when I tell you what my guess is." 
 
 " Marion and I " said Bob. 
 
 " Have spent the morning," I said, " in rinding out 
 that you want to marry each other ? " 
 
 " Of course we have," said Marion. 
 
 " Of course," said Bob. 
 
 The discovery that they both wanted the same thing 
 made them ridiculously happy. Marion kissed me 
 with effusive ardour, putting her left arm tight round 
 my neck, but still holding on to Bob with her right 
 hand. Bob, after our first raptures had subsided a 
 little, insisted on going down to Godfrey's lodgings, and 
 apologizing for breaking his ribs. I told him that an 
 apology delivered in that spirit would merely intensify 
 Godfrey's wish to write to the Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer. But nothing I said moved Bob in the least. 
 He was so happy that he wanted to abase himself be- 
 fore some one.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 BABBERLY is in some ways a singularly unlucky 
 man. A place for him, and that a high one, ought 
 to have been quite secure in the next Unionist Cabinet. 
 Now he will never hold office under any government, 
 and yet no one can say that his collapse was in any 
 way his own fault. 
 
 On the very day on which the Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer received Godfrey's letter, Babberly announced 
 his intention of holding another Unionist demonstration 
 in Belfast. He did not mean any harm by this. He 
 intended nothing worse than another eloquent speech 
 and expected nothing more serious than the usual 
 cheers. He regards demonstrations very much as my 
 nephew Godfrey does garden-parties. They are trou- 
 blesome functions, requiring a good deal of labour and 
 care for their successful accomplishment, but they are 
 necessary. People expect something of the kind from 
 time to time ; and if I do not give garden-parties, I 
 should not, so Godfrey says, keep up my position in the 
 county. If Babberly did not, so to speak, give demon- 
 strations he would lose his position in the political 
 world. Babberly's position is, of course, vastly more 
 important than mine. 
 
 Moyne, goaded on I suppose by Lady Moyne, wrote 
 a letter to the papers perhaps I should say published 
 a manifesto urging the extreme importance of Bab- 
 berly's demonstration. This was necessary because 
 
 142
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 143 
 
 McNeice and O'Donovan, in The Loyalist, had lately 
 adopted a sneering tone about demonstrations. And 
 The Loyalist was becoming an effective force in the 
 guidance of Ulster opinion. Thanks to the exertions of 
 Crossan, Malcolmson and some others the paper was 
 very widely circulated and wherever it went it was read. 
 Lady Moyne, I knew, disliked The Loyalist and was 
 uneasy about the tone of its articles. She felt it nec- 
 essary to stimulate the popular taste for demonstrations, 
 and wrote Moyne's manifesto for him. It was a very 
 good manifesto, full of weighty words about the present 
 crisis and the necessity of standing shoulder to shoulder 
 against the iniquitous plot of the Government for the 
 dismemberment of the Empire. 
 
 Very much to my surprise, and I am sure to Lady 
 Moyne's, The Loyalist printed a strong article in sup- 
 port of the proposed demonstration. Nothing could 
 have been more flattering than its reference to Babberly 
 and Lord Moyne; nothing better calculated to insure 
 the success of the performance than the way in which 
 it urged all Unionists to attend it. " Assemble in your 
 Thousands " was the phrase used four times over in 
 the course of the article. There was only one sen- 
 tence in it which could cause any one the slightest 
 uneasiness. 
 
 " Previous demonstrations," so the article concluded, 
 " have served their purpose as expressions of our un- 
 alterable convictions. This one must do something 
 more. It must convince the world that we mean what 
 we say" 
 
 That, of course, was nothing more than Babberly had 
 proclaimed a dozen times in far more eloquent language. 
 Nor was the fact that McNeice printed the last sentence
 
 144 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 in italics particularly startling. Babberly had empha- 
 sized the same statement with all the violence possible. 
 But, so tense was the public mind at this time, every- 
 body was vaguely anxious and excited. We felt that 
 McNeice attached more meaning to the words than 
 Babberly did. 
 
 A member of the Cabinet happened to be speaking 
 two days later at a large public meeting in Croydon. 
 He was supposed to be explaining the advantages of the 
 new Insurance Act to the mistresses and servants of the 
 smaller middle-class households. There were, I be- 
 lieve, very few people with sufficient faith in his power 
 of apology to go to hear him ; but, of course, there were 
 plenty of newspaper reporters. The Cabinet Minister 
 addressed them, and, ignoring for the time the griev- 
 ances of the British house-and-parlourmaid, he an- 
 nounced that the Government was going to stand no 
 nonsense from Ulster. 
 
 " The leaders," he said, " of the unfortunate dupes 
 who are to assemble next week in Belfast, must under- 
 stand once for all that in a democratically governed 
 country the will of the majority must prevail, and His 
 Majesty's Government is fully determined to see that it 
 does prevail, at any cost." 
 
 This, again, was nothing more than the usual thing. 
 Only the last three words conveyed anything in the na- 
 ture of a threat, and many papers did not report the 
 last three words. Babberly, I think, was quite justified 
 in supposing that the Cabinet Minister was saying no 
 more than, according to the rules of the game, he was 
 bound to say ; that he was, in fact, giving a garden-party 
 of his own to keep up his position in the county. At all 
 events Babberly replied to the Government's pronounce-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 145 
 
 ment with a defiance of the boldest possible kind. The 
 Loyalist, in a special number, published in the middle of 
 the week, patted Babberly on the back, and said that the 
 men of Ulster would, if necessary, assert their right of 
 public meeting with rifles in their hands. 
 
 This was not going much further than Babberly him- 
 self had often gone in earlier stages of the controversy. 
 It is true that he had always spoken of " arms " which 
 is a vague word and might mean nothing worse than 
 the familiar paving stones. The Loyalist specified the 
 kind of arms, mentioned rifles, which are very lethal 
 weapons. Still, viewed from a reasonable standpoint, 
 there was nothing very alarming in the word rifles. 
 
 Two days later Moyne motored over to my house. 
 He seemed greatly disturbed, so I took him into my 
 study and gave him tea. While we were drinking it he 
 told me what was the matter with him. 
 
 " Look here, Kilmore," he said, " do you know any- 
 thing about a rumour that's flying about? " 
 
 " There are so many," I said. 
 
 " About the importation of arms into this country." 
 
 I had my suspicions, rather more than suspicions, for 
 I had been thinking over the somewhat remarkable 
 performances of Bob Power and the Finola. I did not, 
 however, want to say anything definite until I knew how 
 much information Moyne had. After all Bob Power 
 had now arranged to be my son-in-law. I do not know 
 what the law does to people who import arms into a 
 peaceful country; but the penalty is sure to be severe, 
 and I did not want Marion's wedding-day to be blighted 
 by the arrest of the bridegroom. 
 
 " They say," said Moyne, " that some of the cargoes 
 have been landed here under your windows."
 
 146 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " I can only assure you," I said, " that I have never 
 in my life imported so much as a pocket pistol." 
 
 " I had a long letter from Babberly this morning," 
 said Moyne. " He had an interview with the Prime 
 Minister yesterday. It appears that the Government 
 has some information." 
 
 " Why doesn't the Government act upon it then ? " 
 
 " They are acting. They want me and Babberly to 
 come out and denounce this kind of thing, to discounte- 
 nance definitely " 
 
 "That's all well enough," I said, "but I don't see 
 why you and Babberly should be expected to get the 
 Government out of a hole. In fact it's your business 
 to keep them in any holes they fall into." 
 
 " Under ordinary circumstances," said Moyne, " we 
 shouldn't, of course, stir hand or foot. We'd let them 
 stew in their own juice. And I may tell you that's the 
 line Babberly thinks we ought to take. But I don't 
 know. If there's any truth in these rumours, and there 
 may be, you know, it seems to me that we are face to 
 face with a very serious business. Party politics are all 
 right, of course; and I'm just as keen as any man to 
 turn out this wretched' Government. They've done mis- 
 chief enough, but well, if there's any truth in what 
 they say, it isn't exactly a question of ordinary politics, 
 and I think that every loyal man ought to stand by 
 
 " If there's any truth in the rumours " I said. 
 
 " The country's in a queer state," said Moyne. " I 
 don't understand what's going on." 
 
 " If the people have got rifles," I said, " they're not 
 likely to give them up because you and Babberly tell 
 them to." 
 
 " Babberly says there's nothing in it," said Moyne,
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 147 
 
 doubtfully, " and her ladyship agrees with him. She 
 thinks it's simply a dodge of the Government to spike 
 our guns." 
 
 It is curious that Moyne cannot help talking about 
 guns, even when he's afraid that somebody or other may 
 really have one. He might, under the circumstances, 
 have been expected to use some other metaphor. 
 " Cook our goose," for instance, would have expressed 
 his meaning quite well, and there would have been no 
 suggestion of gunpowder about the words. 
 
 " I don't see," I said, " how you can very well do 
 anything when both Lady Moyne and Babberly are 
 against you." 
 
 " I can't I can't, of course. And yet, don't you 
 know, Kilmore, I don't know " 
 
 I quite appreciated Moyne's condition of mind. I 
 myself did not know. I felt nearly certain that Bob 
 Power had been importing arms in the Finola. I sus- 
 pected that Crossan and others had been distributing 
 them. And yet it seemed impossible to suppose that 
 ordinary people, the men I lunched with in the club, 
 like Malcolmson, the men who touched their hats to 
 me on the road, like Rose's freckly-faced lover, the 
 quiet-looking people whom I saw at railway stations, 
 that those people actually meant to shoot off bullets out 
 of guns with the intention of killing other people. Of 
 course, long 1 ago, this sort of killing was done, but then, 
 long ago, men believed things which we do not believe 
 now. Perhaps I ought to say which I do not believe 
 now. Malcolmson may still believe in what he calls 
 " civil and religious liberty." Crossan certainly applies 
 his favourite epithet to the " Papishes." He may con- 
 ceivably think that they would put him on a rack if they
 
 I 4 8 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 got the chance. If he believed that he might fight. 
 And yet the absurdity of the thing prevents serious con- 
 sideration. 
 
 The fact is that our minds are so thoroughly attuned 
 to the commonplace that we have lost the faculty of 
 imaginative vision of unusual things. Commonplace 
 men I, for instance, or Babberly can imagine a 
 defeat of the Liberal Government or a Unionist victory 
 at the General Election, because Liberal Governments 
 have been defeated and Unionist victories have been 
 won within our own memories. We cannot imagine 
 that Malcolmson and Crossan and our large Dean would 
 march out and kill people, because we have never known 
 any one who did such things. Men with prophetic 
 minds can contemplate such possibilities, because they 
 have the power of launching themselves into the un- 
 seen. We cannot. This is the reason why cataclysms, 
 things like the Flood recorded in the Book of Genesis, 
 and the French Revolution, always come upon societies 
 unprepared for them. The prophets foretell them, but 
 the common man has not the amount of imagination 
 which would make it possible for him to believe the 
 prophets. " They eat and drink, marry, and are given 
 in marriage," until the day when the thing happens. 
 
 Looking back now and considering, in the light of 
 what actually happened, my own frame of mind while 
 I was talking to Moyne, I can only suppose that it was 
 my lack of imagination which prevented my realizing 
 the meaning of what was going on around me. 
 
 The next event which I find it necessary to chronicle 
 is Conroy's visit to Germany. I heard about it from 
 Marion. She got a letter almost every day from Bob 
 Power, and it was understood that he was to pay us a
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 149 
 
 short visit at the end of that week. He explained, much 
 to Marion's disappointment and mine, that this visit 
 must be postponed. 
 
 " The chief," it was thus he wrote of Conroy, " has 
 gone over to Germany. He's always going over to 
 Germany. I fancy he must have property there. But 
 it doesn't generally matter to me whether he goes or 
 not. This time worse luck he has taken it into his 
 head to have the yacht to meet him at Kiel. I have to 
 go at once." 
 
 At the moment I attached no importance whatever to 
 Conroy's visit to Germany. Now I have come to think 
 that he went there on a very serious business indeed. 
 His immense financial interests not only kept him in 
 touch with all the money markets of the world. They 
 also gave him a knowledge of what was being done 
 everywhere by the great manufacturers and the in- 
 ventors. Moreover Conroy's immense wealth, when he 
 chose to use it, enabled him to get things done for him 
 very quietly. He could secure the delivery of goods 
 which he ordered in unconventional ways, in unusual 
 places. He could, for instance, by means of lavish ex- 
 penditure and personal interviews, arrange to have guns 
 put unobtrusively into innocent looking tramp steamers 
 and transhipped from them in lonely places to the hold 
 of the Finola. Whether the German Government had 
 any idea of what was going on I do not know. Foreign 
 governments are supposed to be well supplied with in- 
 formation about the manufacture and destination of 
 munitions of war. The English Government, I am sure, 
 had not up to the last moment any definite information. 
 Its suspicions were of the very vaguest kind before the 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer received Godfrey's letter.
 
 150 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 The Belfast demonstration Babberly's defiance of 
 the Government's warning was fixed for the first 
 Monday in September. On the 24th of August, ten 
 days before the demonstration, The Loyalist became a 
 daily instead of a weekly paper. Its circulation in- 
 creased immediately. It was on sale everywhere in the 
 north of Ireland, and it was delivered with striking reg- 
 ularity in out of the way places in which it was almost 
 impossible to get any other daily paper. It continued 
 to press upon its readers the necessity of attending Bab- 
 berly's demonstration in Belfast. It said, several times 
 over, that the demonstration was to be one of armed 
 men. Parliament was sitting late, debating wearily the 
 amendments proposed by Unionists to the Home Rule 
 Bill. A Nationalist member arrived at Westminster 
 one day with a copy of The Loyalist in his pocket. He 
 called the attention of the Chief Secretary for Ireland 
 to the language used in one of the leading articles, and 
 asked what steps were being taken to prevent a breach 
 of the peace in Belfast on the first Monday in Septem- 
 ber. Before the Chief Secretary could answer Bab- 
 berly burst in with another question. 
 
 " Is is not a fact," he asked, " that the paper in ques- 
 tion is edited by a notorious Nationalist, a physical 
 force man, a declared rebel, one of the chosen associ- 
 ates of the honourable gentleman opposite ? " 
 
 The Chief Secretary replied that he had no knowledge 
 of the political opinions of the editor in question fur- 
 ther than as they obtained expression in his paper. He 
 appeared to be a strong Unionist. 
 
 Considering that O'Donovan had been in prison three 
 times, and that papers edited by him had been twice 
 suppressed by the Government, the Chief Secretary must
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 151 
 
 have meant that he had no official knowledge of O'Don- 
 ovan's opinions. The distinction between knowledge 
 and official knowledge is one of the most valuable things 
 in political life. 
 
 Babberly displayed the greatest indignation at this 
 answer to his question. 
 
 " Is the fair fame of the men of Ulster," he asked, 
 " to be traduced, is their unswerving loyalty to the 
 Crown and Constitution to be impeached, on the strength 
 of irresponsible scribblings emanating from a Dublin 
 slum?" 
 
 The office of The Loyalist is in a slum. So far Bab- 
 berly was well informed. He cannot have known that 
 the " scribblings " were by the pen of an eminent fellow 
 of Trinity College, or that the money which paid for 
 printing and circulation was Conroy's. 
 
 The Nationalist member pressed for a reply to his 
 original question. He said that he desired nothing ex- 
 cept that the Government should perform the ele- 
 mentary duty of preserving law and order. 
 
 That particular Nationalist member had, in the days 
 past, been put into prison with the utmost regularity 
 whenever a government undertook to perform the ele- 
 mentary duty he now desired to see undertaken. And 
 no government ever, in old times, undertook such work 
 except when goaded to desperation by Babberly. The 
 seething of a kid in its mother's milk is forbidden by 
 the law of Moses, which shows that it must be a tempt- 
 ing thing to do. That Nationalist member felt the 
 temptation strongly. He evidently had hopes of sacri- 
 ficing Babberly on the altar of the twin gods so long 
 worshipped by the Ulster members, incarcerating him 
 in the sacred names of law and order. But the Chief
 
 152 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 Secretary did not see his way to make Babberly the 
 hero of a state trial. He replied that the Government 
 was fully alive to the duty of preserving order in Bel- 
 fast, and refused to commit himself to any definite plan 
 for dealing with Babberly. 
 
 The newspapers made the most of the incident, and 
 O'Donovan's record was scrutinized by both parties. A 
 lively discussion ensued as to whether a " Hill-sider " 
 some one discovered that picturesque description of 
 O'Donovan could become a militant Unionist. The 
 text from the prophet Jeremiah about the spots on the 
 leopard was quoted several times with great effect. 
 
 McNeice's name was not mentioned, nor was Con- 
 roy's. We may suppose that his connection with the 
 University saved McNeice. Trinity College has, of late 
 years, displayed such a capacity for vigorous self-de- 
 fence, that the boldest politician hesitates to attack it 
 or any one under its immediate protection. Conroy es- 
 caped because no one, not even an Irish member, cares 
 to ride atilt against a millionaire. We respect little 
 else in heaven or earth, but we do, all of us, respect 
 money.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ON the Wednesday before the day fixed for the Bel- 
 fast demonstration, a meeting of the Ulster Un- 
 ionist leaders was held in London. Moyne was at it. 
 Lady Moyne, although the absurd conventions of our 
 political life prevented her being present in person, was 
 certainly an influence in the deliberations. She gave a 
 dinner-party the night before in Moyne's town house. 
 Babberly, of course, was at the dinner, and with him 
 most of the small group of Ulster Members of Parlia- 
 ment. Three or four leading members of the Opposi- 
 tion, Englishmen who had spoken on Ulster platforms 
 and were in full sympathy with the Ulster dislike of 
 Home Rule, were also present. Cahoon was not. He 
 travelled from Belfast during the night of the dinner- 
 party and only reached London in time for the meeting 
 of the Party next day. I do not know whether Cahoon 
 was invited to the dinner or not. Malcolmson was in- 
 vited. He told me so himself, but he did not accept the 
 invitation. He said he had business in Belfast and he 
 went to London with Cahoon. The Dean was at the 
 dinner-party. His name appeared in the newspaper 
 lists of guests next morning. McNeice was not there. 
 Lady Moyne did not like McNeice, and, although he was 
 a member of the " Ulster Defence Committee," he was 
 never admitted to what might be called the social gath- 
 erings of the party. 
 
 The newspapers, in their columns of fashionable in- 
 153
 
 154 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 telligence, printed a full list of the guests at this dinner, 
 and even noted the dresses worn by some of the chief 
 ladies. It was described as a brilliant function, and 
 Lady Moyne figured as " one of the most successful of 
 our political hostesses." I have no doubt that she was 
 successful in impressing her views on Babberly and the 
 others. Whether she thought it worth while to spend 
 time that night in talking to the Dean I do not know. 
 Immediately under the account of the dinner-party 
 there was a short paragraph which stated that Conroy, 
 " the well-known millionaire yachtsman," had returned 
 from a cruise in the Baltic Sea, and that the Finola was 
 lying off Bangor in Belfast Lough. 
 
 In quite a different part of the papers there were 
 comments and articles on the meeting of the Ulster 
 leaders to be held that afternoon. The articles in Lib- 
 eral papers oscillated between entreaties and threats. 
 One of them, in a paper supposed to be more or less in- 
 spired by the Government, pleased me greatly. It be- 
 gan with a warm tribute to the loyalty which had always 
 characterized the men of Ulster. Then it said that 
 troops were being moved to Belfast in order to over- 
 come a turbulent populace. It went on from that to 
 argue that troops were entirely unnecessary, because 
 Ulstermen, though pig-headed almost beyond belief in 
 their opposition to Home Rule, would not hesitate for 
 a moment when the choice was given them of obeying 
 or defying the law. They would, of course, obey the 
 law. But, so the article concluded, if they did not obey 
 the law the resources of civilization were by no means 
 exhausted. 
 
 As no law had, up to that time, been made forbid- 
 ding the holding of the Belfast demonstration, this ar-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 155 
 
 tide was perhaps premature in its attempt to impale 
 Babberly and his friends on the horns of a dilemma. 
 
 The Conservative papers assumed an air of calm con- 
 fidence. One of them, the editor of which was in close 
 touch with Babberly, said plainly that dear as the right 
 of free speech was to the Unionist leaders they would 
 cheerfully postpone the Belfast demonstration rather 
 than run the smallest risk of causing a riot in the streets. 
 Political principles, it is said, were sacred things, but 
 the life of the humblest citizen was far more sacred 
 than any principle, and the world could confidently rely 
 on Babberly's being guided in his momentous decision 
 by considerations of the loftiest patriotism. 
 
 I have no doubt that Babberly fully intended to do 
 as that paper said he would do. I feel certain that 
 the informal consultation of the politicians at Lady 
 Moyne's dinner-party had ended in a decision to post- 
 pone the demonstration. But things had passed beyond 
 the control of Babberly and Lady Moyne. No news- 
 paper was able to give any report of the proceedings of 
 the meeting held that afternoon. But Malcolmson, Ca- 
 hoon and McNeice were all present, and the Dean, hav- 
 ing escaped the overpowering atmosphere of Moyne 
 House, was able to express his opinions freely and forci- 
 bly. On the other hand Lady Moyne was not there, and 
 Moyne, when it comes to persuading men, is a very 
 poor substitute for her. The English Unionists could 
 not be there, so the weight of their moderation was not 
 felt. The meeting broke up without reaching any de- 
 cision at all ; and the Belfast demonstration remained on 
 the list of fixtures for the next week. 
 
 Sir Samuel Clithering, originally a manufacturer of 
 hosiery in the midlands, was at this time acting regu-
 
 156 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 larly as an official ambassador of the Cabinet. The fact 
 that he was a leading Nonconformist was, I fancy, sup- 
 posed to commend him in some obscure way to the 
 Ulster party. He spent the evening after the meeting 
 in flying about in his motor between the House of Com- 
 mons where Babberly was proposing amendments to the 
 Bill, Moyne House where Lady Moyne and her secre- 
 tary sat over her typewriter, a military club in St. 
 James' Street where Malcolmson sat smoking cigars, 
 and a small hotel in the Strand where McNeice and 
 Cahoon were stopping. The Dean had left London for 
 Belfast immediately after the meeting. I have no doubt 
 that Sir Samuel Clithering did his best; but diplomacy 
 applied to men like McNeice and Malcolmson is about 
 as useful as children's sand dykes are in checking the 
 advance of flowing tides. 
 
 It is a source of regret to me that my account of 
 what happened in London is meagre and disjointed. I 
 was not there myself and events became so much more 
 exciting afterwards that nobody has any very clear 
 recollection of the course of these preliminary nego- 
 tiations. 
 
 My own personal narrative begins again two days 
 after the London meeting, that is to say on the Friday 
 before the Belfast demonstration. 
 
 Godfrey came up to see me at eleven o'clock with his 
 arm in a sling. 
 
 " Excellency," he said, " the Dean has just hoisted 
 a large flag on the tower of the church. I'm sure you 
 don't approve of that." 
 
 It is, I hope, unnecessary to say that Godfrey is at 
 feud with the Dean. The Dean is a straightforward 
 and honourable man. He and Godfrey live in the same
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 157 
 
 town. A quarrel between them was therefore inevi- 
 table. 
 
 As a matter of fact I do not approve of the hoisting 
 of flags on the church tower. In Ireland we only hoist 
 flags with a view to irritating our enemies, and I am 
 not an expert in Christian theology but it seems to me 
 that church towers are not the most suitable places for 
 flaunting defiances. The Dean and I argued the matter 
 out years ago and arrived at a working compromise. I 
 agreed to make no protest against flags on the I2th of 
 July. The Dean promised not to hoist them on any 
 other day. This is fairly satisfactory to the Dean be- 
 cause he can exult over his foes on the day of the year 
 on which it is most of all desirable to do so. It is fairly 
 satisfactory to me because on three hundred and sixty- 
 four days out of every year the church remains, in out- 
 ward appearance at least, a house of prayer, and I am 
 not vexed by having to regard it as a den of politicians. 
 That is as much as can be expected of any compromise, 
 and I was always quite loyal to my share of the bargain. 
 The Dean, it now appeared, was not ; and Godfrey saw 
 his chance of stirring up strife. 
 
 " I don't think," I said, " the Dean can have anything 
 to do with the flag. He is in London." 
 
 " He came back yesterday," said Godfrey, " and the 
 flag he has hoisted is a large Union Jack." 
 
 Now the Union Jack is of all flags the most pro- 
 vocative. Any other flag under the sun, even the Royal 
 Standard, might be hoisted without giving any very 
 grave offence to any one. But the Union Jack arouses 
 the worst feelings of everybody. Some little time ago 
 a fool flew a Union Jack out of the window of a Dublin 
 house underneath which the Irish leader happened at
 
 158 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 the moment to be proclaiming his loyalty to the Empire 
 and his ungovernable love for the English people. The 
 fool who hoisted the flag was afterwards very properly 
 denounced for having gone about to insult the Irish 
 nation. The Dean might, I think, have set floating a 
 banner with three Orange lilies emblazoned upon it like 
 the fleur-de-lys of ancient France. No one's feelings 
 would have been much hurt and no one's enthusiasm 
 unusually stirred. But it is characteristic of the Dean 
 that when he does a thing at all he does it thoroughly. 
 
 " Just come and look at it," said Godfrey. " It's 
 enormous." 
 
 We went into the library, from the windows of which 
 a clear view can be obtained of the town and the church 
 which stands above it. There certainly was a flag fly- 
 ing from the church tower. I took a pair of field- 
 glasses and satisfied myself that it was the Union Jack. 
 
 " Would you like me to speak to the Dean about it ? " 
 said Godfrey. 
 
 " Certainly not," I said. " Any interference on your 
 part would merely and these are rather exciting 
 times. The Dean is entitled, I think, to a little license. 
 I don't suppose he means to keep it there permanently." 
 
 Then, borne to us by a gentle breeze across the bay, 
 came the sound of the church bells. We have a fine 
 peal of bells in our church, presented to the parish by 
 my father. They are seldom properly rung, but when 
 they are on Christmas Day, at Easter and on the i2th 
 of July the effect is very good. 
 
 " Surely," I said, " the Dean can't be having a Harvest 
 Thanksgiving Service yet? It's not nearly time." 
 
 Then I noticed that instead of one of the regular 
 chimes the bells were playing a hymn tune. It was, as
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 159 
 
 I might have guessed, the tune to which " O God, our 
 help in ages past " is sung in Ireland. The hymn, since 
 Babberly's first demonstration in Belfast, had become a 
 kind of battle song. It is, I think, characteristic of the 
 Irish Protestants that they should have a tune of their 
 own for this hymn. Elsewhere, in England, in Scot- 
 land, in the United States and the Colonies this metrical 
 version of the cjoth Psalm is sung to a fine simple tune 
 called St. Ann. But we are not and never have been as 
 other men are. Without a quiver of our nerves we 
 run atilt at the most universally accepted traditions. 
 The very fact that every one else who uses the hymn 
 sings it to the tune called St. Ann would incline us to 
 find some other tune if such a thing were obtainable. 
 We found one which musicians, recognizing that we 
 had some right to claim it as ours, called " Irish " or 
 " Dublin." This tune emerged suddenly from nowhere 
 in response to no particular demand in the middle of 
 the eighteenth century. It is anonymous, but it was at 
 once wedded to the words of that particular hymn, and 
 we have used it ever since. It is difficult to give an 
 opinion on the comparative merits of two hymn tunes, 
 and I hesitate to say that ours is a finer one than that 
 used by the rest of the English-speaking world. I am, 
 however, certain that there is in our tune an unmistak- 
 able suggestion of majestic confidence in an eternal 
 righteousness, and that it very well expresses the feel- 
 ing with which we sing the hymn at political demonstra- 
 tions and elsewhere. It came to me that day across the 
 waters of the bay, hammered slowly out by the swing- 
 ing bells, with a tremendous sense of energy. The Eng- 
 lish St. Ann seemed lilty and almost flippant in com- 
 parison.
 
 160 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 I raised my glasses again and took another look at 
 the Union Jack, blown out from its flag-post and dis- 
 playing plainly its tangled crosses. Then I noticed that 
 men were entering the churchyard singly, in pairs and 
 in little groups of three and four. 
 
 " The Dean," I said, " must have some sort of service 
 in church to-day. If it isn't the Harvest Thanksgiving 
 it must be an anniversary of something. What hap- 
 pened at this time of year, Godfrey ? I can't remember 
 anything." 
 
 I still stared through my glasses. I was struck by 
 the unusual fact that only men were going into the 
 church. Then, quite suddenly, I saw that every man 
 was carrying a gun. I laid down my glasses and turned 
 to Godfrey. 
 
 " I wish," I said, " that you'd go down to the town 
 not to the church, mind, Godfrey, but into the town, and 
 ask somebody ask the police sergeant at the barrack 
 what is going on in the church." 
 
 Godfrey is always at his very best when he has to find 
 out something. He would have made almost an ideal 
 spy. If any one is ever wanted by the nation for the 
 more disagreeable part of secret service work I can con- 
 fidently recommend Godfrey. 
 
 Half an hour later he returned to me hot and breath- 
 less. 
 
 " The police sergeant told me, Excellency, that the 
 Dean's going to march all the Orangemen and a lot of 
 other men along with them to Belfast for the Unionist 
 demonstration. They are having service in the church 
 first and they've all got rifles." 
 
 I have all my life steadily objected to politics being 
 mixed with religion. I hold most strongly that the
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 161 
 
 Church ought not to be dominated by politicians. The 
 Church is degraded and religion is brought into con- 
 tempt when they are used by party leaders. But the 
 bells had ceased ringing. The hymn was now, no doubt, 
 being sung by the men within. It occurred to me sud- 
 denly that on this occasion it was not the politicians who 
 were taking possession of religion, but religion which 
 was asserting its right to dominate politics. This is 
 plainly quite a different matter. I can even imagine 
 that politics might be improved if religion asserted itself 
 a little more frequently than it does. I still maintain 
 that it is only right and fair to keep politics out of the 
 Church. I am not at all sure that it is right to keep 
 the Church out of politics. 
 
 " I told the sergeant," said Godfrey, " that he had 
 better go and stop them at once." 
 
 " Oh, did you ? " I said. " Do you know, Godfrey, 
 that's just the kind of suggestion I'd expect you to make 
 under the circumstances." 
 
 " Thanks awfully, Excellency," said Godfrey. " I'm 
 awfully glad you're pleased." 
 
 There are besides the sergeant three constables in our 
 police barrack. They are armed as a rule with short 
 round sticks. On very important occasions they carry 
 an inferior kind of firearm called a carbine. There 
 were, I guessed about three hundred men in the church, 
 and they were armed with modern rifles. Godfrey's 
 faith in the inherent majesty of the law was extremely 
 touching. 
 
 "Did he go?" I asked. 
 
 " I don't think he intends to," said Godfrey, " but he 
 did not give me a decided answer." 
 
 Our police sergeant is a man of sense.
 
 l62 
 
 " Did you say," I asked, " that they're going to march 
 to Belfast?" 
 
 " That's what the sergeant told me," said Godfrey. 
 
 " Actually walk the whole way ? " 
 
 Belfast is a good many miles away from us. It 
 would, I suppose, take a quick walker the better part of 
 two days to accomplish the journey. 
 
 " He said ' march,' " said Godfrey. " I suppose he 
 meant to walk." 
 
 This is, as we are constantly reminded, the twentieth 
 century. I should have supposed that any one who 
 wanted to get from this place to Belfast would have 
 gone in a train. Our nearest railway station is some 
 way off, but one might walk to it in an hour and a half. 
 Once there, the journey to Belfast can be accomplished 
 in another two hours. It seems rather absurd to spend 
 two days over it, but then the whole thing is rather ab- 
 surd. The rifles are absurd. The gathering of three 
 hundred men into a church to indulge in a kind of grace 
 before meat as preparation for a speech from Babberly 
 is rather absurd. To set a peal of bells playing but 
 I am not quite sure about the hymn tune. It did not 
 sound to me absurd as it came across the bay. I am, 
 I trust, a reasonable man, not peculiarly liable to be 
 swept off my feet by waves of emotion ; but there was 
 something in the sound of that hymn tune which pre- 
 vented me from counting it, along with our other per- 
 formances, as an absurdity.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE Dean and his men did actually march to Bel- 
 fast. I saw them there two days later. I also 
 saw them start, ranged in very fair order with the 
 Dean at their head. The most surprising thing about 
 their march was that they had no band. There are at 
 least two bands in the town. I subscribe to both of 
 them regularly and have occasionally given a donation 
 to a third which enjoys an intermittent existence, 
 springing into sudden activity for a week or two and 
 then disappearing for months. I asked the police ser- 
 geant, who is a South of Ireland man and very acute 
 of mind, why none of the bands accompanied the army. 
 The explanation he gave me was interesting and sug- 
 gestive. 
 
 " There isn't as much as a boy in the district," he 
 said, " who'd content himself with a drum when he 
 might have the handling of a rifle." 
 
 And yet an excessive fondness for drums has been 
 reckoned by English politicians one of the failings 
 of the Ulster man. 
 
 I went to Belfast next morning quite unexpectedly. 
 No peal of bells heartened me for my start, partly be- 
 cause all the bell-ringers and nearly all the able-bodied 
 members of the church in the parish had marched forth 
 with the Dean. Partly also, I suppose, because I did 
 not travel in a heroic way. I am much too old to under- 
 take a two-days' walking tour, so I went by train. God- 
 
 163
 
 164 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 frey saw me off. I owed this attention, I am sure, to 
 the fact that Marion was with me. She told Godfrey 
 that she was going to marry Bob Power, but Godfrey 
 did not on that account cease to regard her as his prop- 
 erty. He had hopes, I fancy, that Bob Power would 
 be killed in some fight with a Custom House officer. 
 Marion, on the other hand, was vaguely afraid' that 
 either Bob or I would get injured while rioting in Bel- 
 fast. That was her reason for going with me. 
 
 I went because I received on Friday evening a very 
 urgent letter from Lady Moyne. She and Lord Moyne 
 had just arrived in Belfast, and her letter was sent to 
 me by a special messenger on a motor bicycle. She 
 wished me to attend an extraordinary meeting of the 
 " Ulster Defence Committee " which, in defiance of our 
 strong Sabbatarian feeling, was to- be held on Sunday 
 afternoon. 
 
 " We elected you a member of the committee at a 
 meeting held yesterday in London,"' she wrote, " so you 
 have a perfect right to be present and to vote." 
 
 That meeting must have been held after McNeice, 
 Malcolmson and Cahoon returned to Ireland. They 
 regard me as a Laodicean in the matter of Home 
 Rule, and would never have consented to my sit- 
 ting on a committee which controlled, or at all events 
 was supposed to control, the actions of the Ulster 
 leaders. 
 
 " It's most important, dear Lord Kilmore," the letter 
 went on, "that you should be present on Sunday. 
 Your well-known moderation will have a most steady- 
 ing influence, and if it should come to a matter of 
 voting, your vote may be absolutely necessary." 
 
 After getting a letter of that kind I could not well
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 165 
 
 refuse to go to Belfast. Even without the letter I 
 should, I think, have gone. I was naturally anxious to 
 see what was going to happen. 
 
 I spent my time in the train reading several differ- 
 ent accounts of an important Nationalist meeting held 
 the day before in a village in County Clare, the name 
 of which I have unfortunately forgotten. Three of 
 the chief Nationalist orators were there, men quite equal 
 to Babberly in their mastery of the art of public speak- 
 ing. I read all their speeches ; but that was not really 
 necessary. None of them said anything which the other 
 two did not say, and none of them left out anything 
 which the other two had said. 
 
 They all began by declaring that under Home Rule 
 all Irishmen should receive equal consideration and be 
 treated with equal respect. They all looked forward 
 to the day when they would be walking about the prem- 
 ises at present occupied by the Bank of Ireland in Dub- 
 lin with their arms round Babberly's neck. The dearest 
 wish of their hearts so they all said, and the people 
 of County Clare cheered heartily was to unite with 
 Lord Moyne, Babberly, Malcolmson and even the Dean 
 in the work of regenerating holy Ireland. Any little 
 differences of religious creed which might exist would 
 be entirely forgotten as soon as the Home Rule Bill was 
 safely passed. They then went on to say that 
 the Belfast people, and the people of County An- 
 trim and County Down generally, were enthusi- 
 astically in favour of Home Rule. The fact that they 
 elected Unionist members of Parliament and held Un- 
 ionist demonstrations was accounted for by the exist- 
 ence of a handful of rack-renting landlords, a few 
 sweating capitalists and some clergymen whose churches
 
 i66 
 
 were empty because the people were tired of hearing 
 them curse the Pope. 
 
 Poor Moyne has sold every acre of his property and 
 the Dean's only difficulty with the majority of his large 
 congregation is that he does not curse the Pope often 
 enough to please them. Cahoon, I am told, only sweats 
 in the old-fashioned intransitive sense of the word. 
 He is frequently bathed in perspiration himself. I 
 never heard of his insisting on his workmen getting 
 any hotter than was natural and necessary. But these 
 criticisms are beside the mark. No one supposes that 
 a political orator means to tell the truth when he is 
 making a speech. Politics could not be carried on if he 
 did. What the public expects and generally insists on 
 is that the inevitable lies should have their loins girt 
 about with a specious appearance of truthfulness. 
 Every speaker must offer distinct and convincing proofs 
 that his statements are strictly accurate reflections of 
 fact. The best and simplest way of doing this is by 
 means of bold challenge. The speaker offers to deposit 
 a large sum of money with the local mayor to be paid 
 over to a deserving charity, if any opponent of the 
 speaker can, to the satisfaction of twelve honourable 
 men, generally named, disprove some quite irrelevant 
 truism, or can prove to the satisfaction of the same 
 twelve men the falsity of some universally accepted 
 platitude. This method is very popular with orators, 
 and invariably carries conviction to their audiences. 
 
 The Nationalist members in County Clare broke 
 away into a variant of the familiar plan. They chal- 
 lenged the Government. 
 
 " Let the Government," they said, all three of them, 
 " proclaim the meeting to be held in Belfast on Monday
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 167 
 
 next, and allow the public to watch with contempt the 
 deflation of the wind-distended bladder of Ulster oppo- 
 sition to Home Rule. We venture to say that the little 
 group of selfish wire-pullers at whose bidding the 
 meeting has been summoned, will sneak away before the 
 batons of half a dozen policemen, and their followers 
 will be found to be non-existent." 
 
 The Government, apparently, believed the National- 
 ist orators, or half believed them. Sir Samuel dither- 
 ing was sent over to Belfast, to report, confidentially, on 
 the temper of the people. He must have sent off his 
 despatch before the Dean's army marched in, before any 
 of the armies then converging on the city arrived, be- 
 fore the Belfast people had got out their rifles. The 
 Government in the most solemn and impressive man- 
 ner, proclaimed the meeting. That was the news with 
 which we were greeted when our train drew up at the 
 platform in Belfast. 
 
 The proclamation of meeting is one of the regular 
 resources of governments when Irish affairs get into 
 a particularly annoying tangle. There have been dur- 
 ing my time hundreds of meetings proclaimed in dif- 
 ferent parts of the country. The Lord Lieutenant and 
 the Chief Secretary never get any thanks for their ac- 
 tion. The people who want to hold the meeting always 
 accuse the Government of violating the right of free 
 speech and substituting a military tyranny for the 
 Magna Charta. The other people who do not want the 
 meeting to be held always say that the Government 
 ought to have proclaimed it much sooner than it did, 
 and ought to have imprisoned, perhaps beheaded, the 
 men who intended to speak at the meeting. 
 
 Bob Power met us on the platform, which was hor-
 
 168 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 ribly crowded, and immediately conducted Marion to 
 a motor car which he had in waiting outside the sta- 
 tion. Then he came back to me and we went together 
 in search of Marion's luggage. It was while we were 
 pushing our way through the crowd that he told me 
 the great news. I said that the failure of the demon- 
 stration would be a disappointment to the Dean and 
 his riflemen who would have to walk all the way home 
 again without hearing Babberly's speech. 
 
 " I'm not so sure abqut that," said Bob. " We may 
 have the meeting in spite of their teeth." 
 
 " You can't possibly," I said, " hold a meeting when 
 dear me ! Who are those ? " 
 
 There was a crowd round the luggage van where we 
 were trying to discover Marion's trunk. An unman- 
 nerly porter shoved me back, and I bumped into a man 
 who had something hard and knobby in his hand. I 
 looked round. He was a soldier in the regular khaki 
 uniform with a rifle in his hand. The bayonet was 
 fixed. I felt deeply thankful that it was pointing up- 
 wards and not in a horizontal direction when the porter 
 charged me. It might quite easily have gone through 
 my back. This man appeared to be a kind of outpost 
 sentry. Behind him, all similarly armed, were twenty 
 or thirty more men drawn up with their backs to the 
 wall of the station. A youth, who looked bored and 
 disgusted, was in command of them and stood at the 
 end of the line. His sword struck me as being far too 
 big for him. 
 
 " Who on earth are those ? " I said. 
 
 " Those," said Bob, " are the troops who are overaw- 
 ing us. Some of them. There are lots more. You'll 
 see them at every street corner as we go along. By
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 169 
 
 jove! I believe that's Nosey Henderson in command 
 of this detachment. Excuse me one moment, Lord Kil- 
 more. Henderson was with me at Harrow. I'll just 
 shake hands with him." 
 
 He turned to the young officer as he spoke. 
 
 " Hullo Nosey," he said, " I didn't know you were in 
 these parts." 
 
 " Ordered up from the Curragh," said Henderson. 
 " Damned nuisance this sort of police duty. We 
 oughtn't to be asked to do it." 
 
 " Your particular job," said Bob, " is to overawe the 
 railway porters, I suppose." 
 
 " Been here since nine o'clock this morning," said 
 Henderson, " and haven't had a blessed thing to eat ex- 
 cept two water biscuits. What's the row all about? 
 That's what I can't make out." 
 
 "Oh! It's quite simple," said Bob. "Our side 
 wants to hold a meeting " 
 
 " You are on a side then, are you ? " 
 
 " Of course I am," said Bob. " I'm in command of 
 a company of volunteers. We don't run to khaki 
 uniforms and brass buttons, but we've got guns all 
 right." 
 
 " I say," said Henderson, " tell me this now. Any 
 chance of a scrap? Real fighting, you know? I've 
 been asking all sorts of fellows, and nobody seems to 
 be able to say for certain." 
 
 " We shan't begin it," said Bob ; " but, of course, if 
 you get prodding at us with those spikes you have at 
 the end of your guns " 
 
 " There are a lot of fellows in this town that would 
 be all the better of being prodded. Every porter that 
 walks along the platform spits when he passes us in a
 
 i;o THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 damned offensive way. You would think they were 
 looking for trouble." 
 
 The crowd round the luggage van cleared away a 
 little and we found Marion's trunk. Bob handed it 
 over to a porter and we joined Marion in the motor 
 car. 
 
 The scene outside the station was striking. A con- 
 siderable body of dragoons, some mounted, some on 
 foot beside their horses, were grouped together near 
 the great gate which led into the railway company's 
 yard. Their accoutrements and the bridles of their 
 horses jangled at every movement in a way very sug- 
 gestive of military ardour. The trappings of horse 
 soldiers are evidently made as noisy as possible. Per- 
 haps with the idea of keeping up the spirits of the men. 
 Some Highlanders, complete in their kilts, stood op- 
 posite the dragoons at the other end of the yard. A 
 sergeant was shouting explosive monosyllables at them 
 in order to make them turn to the left or to the right 
 as he thought desirable. Behind them were some other 
 soldiers, Englishmen I presume, who wore ordinary 
 trousers. They were sitting on a flight of stone steps 
 eating chunks of dry bread. Their rifles were neatly 
 stacked behind them. Round the motor car were about 
 thirty men whom I hesitate to call civilians, because 
 they had rifles in their hands; but who were certainly 
 not real soldiers, for they had no uniforms. They 
 looked to me like young farmers. 
 
 " My fellows," said Bob, pointing to these men. 
 " Pretty tidy looking lot, aren't they ? I brought them 
 along as a sort of guard of honour for Marion. They're 
 not really the least necessary; but I thought you and 
 she might be pleased to see them."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 171 
 
 Here and there, scattered among the military and 
 Bob's irregular troops, were black uniformed police- 
 men, rosy-faced young men, fresh from a healthy life 
 among the cattle ranches of Roscommon, drafted to 
 their own immense bewilderment into this strange city 
 of Belfast, where no one regarded them with any rev- 
 erence, or treated them with the smallest respect. The 
 motor car started, creeping at a walking pace through 
 the mingled crowd of armed men who thronged the 
 entrance to the station. Our guard of honour, some 
 of them smoking, some stopping for a moment to ex- 
 change greetings with acquaintance, kept up with us 
 pretty well. Then, as we got clear of the station and 
 went faster, we left our guard behind. One man in- 
 deed, with a singular devotion to duty, poked his rifle 
 into the car and then ran alongside of us with his hand 
 on the mudguard. He carried Marion's trunk into the 
 hotel when we got there. 
 
 Our drive was an exciting one. At every street cor- 
 ner there were parties of soldiers. Along every 
 street stalwart policemen strolled in pairs. There were 
 certainly hundreds of armed irregulars. For the most 
 part these men seemed to be under no control ; but oc- 
 casionally we met a party marching in something like 
 military formation, led by an officer, grave with re- 
 sponsibility. One company, I remember, got in our 
 way and for a long time could not get out of it. Their 
 officer had been drilling them carefully and they were 
 all most anxious to obey his orders. The difficulty was 
 that he could not recollect at the moment what orders 
 he ought to give to get them out of our way. He 
 halted them to begin with. Then in firm tones, he com- 
 manded a half-right turn and a quick march. We had
 
 172 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 to back our car to avoid collision with the middle part 
 of the column. Their officer halted them again. We 
 offered to go back and take another route to our hotel ; 
 but the officer would not hear of this. He told his 
 men to stand at ease while he consulted a handbook 
 on military evolutions. In the end he gave the prob- 
 lem up. 
 
 " Get out of the way, will you," he said, " and form 
 up again when the car is past." 
 
 This was unconventional, but quite effective. The 
 men and it is to their credit that not one of them 
 smiled broke their formation, scattered to right and 
 left and reformed after we had passed. This took 
 place in a narrow side street in which there was very 
 little traffic. I recognized the wisdom of the officer 
 in choosing such a place for his manoeuvres. 
 
 In the main streets the business of the town seemed 
 to be going on very much as usual. It was Saturday 
 afternoon. Shops and offices were closing. Young 
 men and girls passed out of them and thronged the 
 trams which were leaving the centre of the city. They 
 took very little notice of the soldiers or the police. 
 In the poorer streets women with baskets on their arms 
 were doing their weekly shopping at the stalls of small 
 butchers and greengrocers. Groups of factory girls 
 marched along with linked arms, enjoying their out- 
 ing, unaffected apparently by the unusual condition of 
 their streets. The newspaper boys did a roaring trade, 
 shrieking promises of sensational news to be found in 
 the pages of the Telegraph and Echo. 
 
 Marion became intensely excited. 
 
 " Doesn't it look just as if the town had been cap- 
 tured by an enemy," she said, " after a long siege ? "
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 173 
 
 " It 'hasn't been captured yet," said Bob. 
 
 I have often tried to understand how it was that 
 Bob Power came to take the active part he did in the 
 fighting which followed, and how he came to be in 
 command of a body of volunteers. He had not, so 
 far as I know, any actual hatred of the idea of Home 
 Rule. He was too light-hearted to be in full sympathy 
 with fanatical Puritans like Crossan and McNeice. 
 He certainly had no hatred of the British Empire or 
 the English army. He was, up to the last moment, 
 on friendly terms with those of the army officers whom 
 he happened to know. He chatted with them and with 
 detached inspectors of police in the same friendly way 
 as he did with Henderson at the railway station. 
 
 I can only suppose that he regarded the whole busi- 
 ness to begin with at all events as a large adven- 
 ture of a novel and delightful kind. He went into it 
 very much as many volunteers went into the Boer 
 War, without any very strong convictions about the 
 righteousness of the cause in which he fought, cer- 
 tainly without any realization of the horror of actual 
 bloodshed. 
 
 There are men of this temperament, fortunately a 
 good many of them. If they did not exist in large 
 numbers the world's fighting would be very badly done. 
 The mere mercenary uninspired by the passion for 
 adventure will at the best do as little fighting as 
 possible, and do it with the smallest amount of ardour. 
 Fanatics cannot be had to order. Some kind of idea 
 in most cases a religious idea is necessary to turn 
 the ordinary church-going business man or farmer into 
 an efficient fighting unit. The kind of patriotism which 
 is prepared to make sacrifices, to endure bodily pain
 
 174 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 and risk death, is very rare. It is on the men who 
 enjoy risk, who love struggle, who face death with a 
 laugh, the men of Bob Power's reckless temperament, 
 that the world must rely when it wants fighting done. 
 Hitherto men of this kind have been plentiful. 
 Whether our advancing civilization is going to destroy 
 the breed is a question which, I am pleased to say, need 
 not be answered by my generation. There are enough 
 Bob Powers alive to last my time.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 I FULLY intended to go to church on Sunday morn- 
 ing. I was, in fact, waiting for Marion at the 
 door of the hotel, when Sir Samuel Clithering came to 
 see me. 
 
 " I shall be so much obliged," he said, " if you will 
 spare me a few minutes." 
 
 I did not want to spare any minutes to Sir Samuel 
 Clithering. In the first place I had promised to take 
 Marion to the cathedral. " A Parade Service " I 
 quote the official title of the function was to be held 
 for the benefit of the volunteers and Marion naturally 
 wanted to see Bob Power at the head of his men. I 
 wanted to hear the men singing that hymn again, and 
 I wanted to hear what sort of sermon the Dean 
 our Dean, not the Dean of the cathedral would preach 
 on such an occasion. He was advertised to preach, as 
 " Chaplain General of the Loyalists." These were three 
 good reasons for not giving Sir Samuel Clithering the 
 few minutes he demanded. I had, also, a fourth. I 
 had held, as I have related, previous communications 
 with Clithering. I suspected him of having more peer- 
 ages in his pocket for distribution, and I did not want to 
 undertake any further negotiations like that with Con- 
 roy. He might even and I particularly disliked the 
 idea be empowered to offer our Dean an English 
 bishopric. 
 
 175
 
 176 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 I kept this last reason to myself, but I stated the 
 other three fully to Sir Samuel. He seemed dissat- 
 isfied. 
 
 " Everybody's going to church," he complained. " I 
 can't get Lord Moyne. I can't get Babberly. I can't 
 get Malcolmson, and it's really most important that I 
 should see some one. Going to church is all very 
 well " 
 
 " As a leading Nonconformist," I said. 
 
 " Free Churchman," said Sir Samuel. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Free Churchman. You ought 
 not to object to people going to church. I've always 
 understood that the Free Churchmen are honourably 
 distinguished from other Christians by their respect for 
 the practice of Sunday worship." 
 
 "Of course, I don't object to people going to church. 
 I should be there myself if it were not that " 
 
 He hesitated. I thought he might be searching for 
 an appropriate text of Scripture so I helped him. 
 
 " Your ass," I said, " has fallen into a pit, and you 
 want " 
 
 This was evidently not exactly the text he wanted. 
 He seemed astonished when I quoted it. 
 
 "Ass! "he said. "What ass?" 
 
 " The Government," I said. " It is in rather a hole, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 " Capital," said Clithering, laughing without the 
 smallest appearance of mirth, " capital ! I didn't catch 
 the point for a moment, but I do now. My ass has 
 fallen into a pit. You put the matter in a nutshell, 
 Lord Kilmore. I don't mind confessing that a pit of 
 rather an inconvenient size does lie in front of us I 
 feel sure that you, as a humane man, won't refuse
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 177 
 
 your help in the charitable work of helping to get us 
 out." 
 
 Marion came downstairs in her best hat. It was 
 not for nothing that Bob Power and I and the running 
 volunteer had struggled with her trunk. Her frock, 
 also, was charming. 
 
 " Your daughter," said Clithering. " Now my dear 
 young lady, you must spare your father to me for an 
 hour. Affairs of state. Affairs of state. But you'll 
 allow me to send you to church in my car. My private 
 secretary is in it, and I shall tell him to see you safely 
 to church, to secure a seat for you " 
 
 " The Dean has reserved seats for us," I said. 
 
 " Capital, capital. We can regard that as settled 
 then. My private secretary an excellent young fel- 
 low whom I picked up at Toynbee Hall a student 
 of our social problems a man whom I'm sure you'll 
 like." 
 
 He conducted Marion to the door and handed her 
 over to the private secretary from Toynbee Hall. I 
 resigned myself and led Clithering to a deserted smok- 
 ing-room. 
 
 " I never saw so much church-going anywhere,'' he 
 said. " It's most remarkable. I don't think the Gov- 
 ernment quite appreciates " 
 
 As a matter of fact the percentage of church-going 
 men on that particular Sunday was considerably over 
 the average. On the other hand there were much fewer 
 women than usual. Every church of every Protestant 
 denomination was holding a " Parade Service " for vol- 
 unteers, and most of the women who tried to get in had 
 to be turned away from the doors. I thought it well to 
 rub the facts in a little.
 
 178 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " Rack-renting landlords," I said. " Sweating cap- 
 italists, and clergymen whose churches are empty be- 
 cause their congregations are tired of hearing them 
 curse the Pope ! " 
 
 " Eh? " said dithering, " what's that? what's that? " 
 
 " Only a quotation," I said. " I forget if it was a 
 Cabinet Minister " 
 
 " Not at all," said Clithering. " I recollect the words 
 now. It was one of the Irish Members. No Cabinet 
 Minister would dream of saying such things. We have 
 a high sense of the importance of the Ulster problem. 
 Nothing, I assure you, is further from our minds than 
 the desire to minimize or treat with undue flippancy the 
 conscientious objections, even the somewhat unreason- 
 able fears of men whom we recognize as " 
 
 Clithering paused. I had not anything particular to 
 say, so I waited for him to begin again. 
 
 " I understand," he said, " that a meeting of the 
 Unionist Defence Committee is to be held this after- 
 noon." 
 
 " Yes," I said. " I'm going to it. I'm not really a 
 member of the committee, at least I wasn't until yester- 
 day; but" 
 
 " I quite understand, quite understand. In fact 
 speaking now in the strictest confidence I may say 
 that the suggestion to add your name to the committee 
 was made well it was made to Lady Moyne by a very 
 important person. It was generally recognized that a 
 man of your well-known moderation " 
 
 I was beginning to dislike being called a man of mod- 
 eration nearly as much as I disliked being called a Lib- 
 eral. 
 
 " What do you want me to do ? " I asked.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 179 
 
 " The situation the very difficult and distressing 
 situation is this," said dithering, " stated roughly it is 
 this. The Government has proclaimed to-morrow's 
 meeting." 
 
 " That," I said, " is the pit into which I don't want 
 to be offensive I'll say, your ox has fallen." 
 
 " And the town is full of troops and police. Any 
 attempt to hold the meeting can only result in blood- 
 shed, deplorable bloodshed, the lives of men and women, 
 innocent women sacrificed." 
 
 " The strength of Babberly's position," I said, " is 
 that he doesn't think bloodshed deplorable." 
 
 " But he does. He told me so in London. He re- 
 peated the same thing this morning." 
 
 " I don't mean Babberly personally," I said, " I mean 
 his party; Malcolmson, you know, and our Dean. If 
 you'd only gone to hear the Dean preach this morning 
 you'd know what he thinks about blood. I've often 
 heard him say that the last drop of it mind that now, 
 Sir Samuel the last drop ought to be shed. That's 
 going as far as any one very well could, isn't it? " 
 
 " But he must," said dithering, " he must think 
 bloodshed deplorable." 
 
 " No, he doesn't," I said. " You mustn't think every- 
 body is like your Government. It's humanitarian. 
 We're not. We're business men." 
 
 Clithering caught at the last phrase. It appealed 
 to him. He did not know the meaning attached to it 
 by Cahoon. 
 
 " That's just it," he said. " We want to appeal to 
 you as business men. We want to suggest a reasonable 
 compromise." 
 
 " I'm afraid," I said, " that you've come to the wrong
 
 i8o THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 place. I'm not the least averse to compromises my- 
 self, in fact I love 'them. But the Belfast business man 
 You don't quite understand him, I'm afraid, Sir Sam- 
 uel. Have you heard him singing his hymn ? " 
 
 " No. What hymn ? But leaving the question of 
 hymns aside for the moment 
 
 " You can't do that," I said, " the hymn is the central 
 fact in the situation." 
 
 Clithering thought this over and evidently failed to 
 understand it. 
 
 " What I am empowered to suggest," he said, " is a 
 compromise so very favourable to the Ulster claims 
 that I can hardly imagine your rejecting it. The Gov- 
 ernment will allow the meeting to be held this day 
 week if your committee will agree to the postpone- 
 ment." 
 
 " If," I said, " you will also withdraw your Home 
 Rule Bill " 
 
 " But we can't," said Clithering. " We can't do that. 
 We'll insert any reasonable safeguards. We'll concede 
 anything that Ulster likes to ask, but we're pledged, 
 absolutely pledged, to the Bill." 
 
 " Well," I said, " as far as pledges are concerned, 
 we're pledged against it." 
 
 " What we deprecate," said Sir Samuel, " is violence 
 of any kind. Constitutional agitation, even if carried 
 on with great bitterness is one thing. Violence but 
 I'm sure, Lord Kilmore, that we can rely on you to use 
 your influence at the meeting this afternoon to secure 
 the acceptance of the terms we offer. I'm sure we can 
 count on you. You can't want bloodshed." 
 
 I did not want bloodshed, of course. I do not sup- 
 pose that anybody did. What Clithering could not un-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 181 
 
 derstand was that some people without wanting 
 bloodshed might prefer it to Home Rule. He left 
 me, still I fancy relying on my well-known moderation. 
 No man ever relied on a more utterly useless crutch. 
 Moderation has never been of the slightest use any- 
 where in Ireland and was certainly a vain thing in Bel- 
 fast that day. 
 
 I walked round to the club and found nobody in it 
 except Conroy. He alone, among the leading sup- 
 porters of the Loyalist movement, had failed to go to 
 church. I thought I might try how he would regard 
 the policy of moderation. 
 
 " I suppose," I said, " that you'll have to give up this 
 meeting to-morrow." 
 
 " I don't think so," said Conroy. 
 
 " I've just been talking to Sir Samuel dithering," I 
 said, " and he thinks there'll be bloodshed if you don't." 
 
 " I reckon he's right there. We're kind of out for 
 that, aren't we ? " 
 
 " It won't be so pleasant," I said, " when it's your 
 blood that's shed. I don't mean yours personally, I 
 mean your friends." 
 
 " The other side will do some of the bleeding," said 
 Conroy. 
 
 " Still," I said, " in the end they'll win." 
 
 " I wouldn't bet too heavy on that," said Conroy. 
 
 " You don't mean to say that you think that a hand- 
 ful of north of Ireland fanners and mechanics can stand 
 up against the British Empire?" 
 
 " It's fixed in my mind," said Conroy, " that the 
 British lion will get his tail twisted a bit before he's 
 through with this business. I don't say that he won't 
 make good in the end. Nobody but God Almighty can
 
 1 82 
 
 tell this minute whether he will or not; but he'll be 
 considerable less frisky when he's finished than he is 
 to-day." 
 
 " But," I said, " even supposing you clear the streets 
 of the soldiers and police to-morrow I do not see 
 how you can ; but if you do the Government will simply 
 anchor a battleship off Carrickf ergus and shell the whole 
 town into a heap of ruins." 
 
 " I'm calculating on their trying that," said Conroy. 
 
 That was all I could get out of Conroy. I left him, 
 feeling uneasily that his vote would certainly go against 
 Clithering's compromise. His confidence in the fight- 
 ing powers of the raw men whom Bob and others had 
 taken to church with them struck me as absurd. His 
 cool assumption of power to deal with the British fleet 
 was arrogance run mad. 
 
 On my way back to my hotel I ran into a congrega- 
 tion which had just got out of some church or other. 
 In the first rank they were marching in very fair 
 order was Crossan. He saluted me and stopped. 
 
 " I'm thinking," he said, " that you won't have seen 
 thon." 
 
 He pointed to a small group of men who were 
 bringing up the rear of the congregation's march. They 
 were dragging a heavy object along with two large 
 ropes. I recognized the leader of them at once. He 
 was Gaboon's foreman friend, McConkey. I was 
 pleased to find that he recognized me. 
 
 " I have her safe," he said. " Would you like to take 
 a look at her? " 
 
 I did. She was a machine gun of a kind quite un- 
 known to me ; but her appearance was very murderous.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 183 
 
 McConkey led me up to her. He stroked her black side 
 lovingly and patted her in various places. 
 
 " I was trying her yesterday," he said, " down on the 
 slob land under the Shore Road. Man o' man, but she 
 shoots bonny ! " 
 
 I had no doubt of it. She was likely to be accounta- 
 ble for a good deal of bloodshed if there was any 
 street fighting next day. The record of her bag would, 
 I should think, haunt Sir Samuel Clithering for the rest 
 of his life. 
 
 " I've a matter of five thousand cartridges," said 
 McConkey in a hoarse whisper, " and there's another 
 five thousand ordered."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE committee met at three o'clock in the after- 
 noon. Sir Samuel Clithering was not, of course, 
 a member of it; but he lurked about outside and way- 
 laid us as we went in. He was in a condition of pitiful 
 bewilderment. Alice whose adventures in Wonder- 
 land have been very dear to me since I first read them 
 aloud to Marion, was once placed in a difficult and 
 awkward position by the kings, queens and knaves of 
 the pack of cards with which she was playing coming 
 to life. This was sufficiently embarrassing. But 
 Clithering was much worse off than Alice. In her 
 story all the cards came to life, and though the unex- 
 pectedness of their behaviour made things difficult for 
 her there was a certain consistency about the whole 
 business. A card player might in time adjust himself to 
 a game played with cards which possessed wills of their 
 own. But poor Clithering had to play with a pack 
 in which one suit only, and it not even the trump suit, 
 suddenly insisted that the game was a reality. The 
 other three suits, the Liberals, the Conservatives, and 
 the Irish Nationalists still behaved in the normal way, 
 falling pleasantly on top of each other, and winning 
 or losing tricks as the rules of the game demanded. 
 The Ulster party alone Clubs, we may call them 
 would not play fairly. They jumped out of the play- 
 er's hand and obstinately declared that the green cloth 
 
 [184
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 185 
 
 was a real battlefield. The higher court cards of the 
 suit Lady Moyne for instance, and Babberly 
 Clithering felt himself able to control. It was the 
 knaves I am sure he looked on McNeice as a knave 
 the tens, the sevens and the humble twos which be- 
 haved outrageous 1 y. 
 
 And Clithering was not the only player who was 
 perplexed. I had been to luncheon with the Moynes. 
 Babberly was there of course. So was Malcolmson. 
 Clithering sat next but one to Lady Moyne. Malcolm- 
 son was between them. It was a curious alliance. The 
 emissary of the Government, which had passed meas- 
 ures which all good aristocrats disliked intensely, 
 joined hands for the moment with the lady whose skill 
 as a political hostess had frequently been troublesome 
 to Clithering's friends. I do not suppose that such an 
 alliance could possibly last long. Those whom mis- 
 fortune, according to the old proverb, forces into bed 
 together, always struggle out again at opposite sides 
 when the clouds cease to be threatening. But while 
 it lasted the alliance was firm enough. They were both 
 bent on pressing the advantages of moderation on Mal- 
 colmson. They produced very little effect. Malcolm- 
 son is impervious to reason. He kept falling back, in 
 replying to their arguments, on his original objection 
 to Home Rule. 
 
 " I shall never consent," he said, " to be governed 
 by a pack of blackguards in Dublin." 
 
 It was really a very good answer, for every time he 
 made it he drove a wedge into the coalition against 
 him. Lady Moyne was bound to admit that all Irish- 
 men outside Ulster are blackguards, and that the at- 
 mosphere of Dublin is poisonous. Clithering, on the
 
 i86 
 
 other hand, was officially committed to an unqualified 
 admiration for everything south of the Boyne. I do 
 not think that Malcolmson appreciated his dialectic ad- 
 vantage. His mind was running on big guns rather 
 than arguments. 
 
 Lady Moyne squeezed my hand as we parted after 
 luncheon, and I think I am not exaggerating in saying 
 that there were tears in her eyes. She succeeded at 
 all events in giving me the impression that her future 
 happiness depended very largely on me. I determined, 
 as I had determined several times before, to be true to 
 the most charming lady of my acquaintance. 
 
 Moyne took the chair at our meeting. Next him 
 sat Babberly. Cahoon, McNeice and Malcolmson sat 
 together at the bottom of the table. I was given a 
 chair on Moyne's other side. Conroy would not sit at 
 the table at all. He had two chairs in a corner of the 
 room. He sat on one of them and put his legs on the 
 other. He also smoked a cigar, which I think every- 
 body regarded as bad form. But nobody liked to pro- 
 test, because nobody, except me and McNeice, knew 
 which side Conroy was going to take in the contro- 
 versy before us. Babberly, I feel sure, would have 
 objected to the cigar if he had thought that Conroy 
 favoured extreme defiance of the Government. Mal- 
 colmson, like many military men, is a great stickler for 
 etiquette. He would have snubbed the cigar if he 
 thought Conroy was inclined to moderation. As things 
 were, we all warmly invited Conroy to desert his pri- 
 vate encampment and join us round the table. 
 
 " I guess I'm here as an onlooker," said Conroy. 
 " You gentlemen can settle things nicely without me, 
 till it comes to writing cheques. Then I chip in."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 187 
 
 Moyne murmured a compliment about Conroy's ex- 
 treme generosity in the past, and Babberly said that 
 further calls on our purses were, for the present, un- 
 necessary. Then we all forgot about Conroy. The 
 Dean sat half way down the table on my side. There 
 was also present a Member of Parliament, a man who 
 had sat by Babberly 's side in the House of Commons 
 all through the dreary months of June, July and Au- 
 gust, supporting consistently every move he made to- 
 wards wrecking the Home Rule Bill. There ought to 
 have been several others of the moderate party at the 
 meeting. Their letters of apology were read to us. 
 They all had urgent business either in England or Scot- 
 land, which prevented their being in Belfast. I do not 
 think their absence made much difference in the result 
 of our deliberations. We had got beyond the stage at 
 which votes matter much. 
 
 Moyne was pitifully nervous. He stated our posi- 
 tion very fairly. It was, he said, a hateful thing to 
 have to give in to the Government. He did not like 
 doing it. On the other hand he did not like to take 
 the responsibility of urging the people of Belfast to 
 commit a breach of the peace. Lives, he said, would 
 certainly be lost if we attempted to hold our meeting 
 in the face of the force of armed men which the Gov- 
 ernment had collected in our streets. He would feel 
 himself guilty of something little short of murder if he 
 did not advise the acceptance of the compromise offered 
 by Clithering. It was, after all, a fair, more than a fair 
 compromise. Nothing would be lost by postponing the 
 meeting for a week. 
 
 It was rather a feeble speech. Nobody offered any 
 interruption, but nobody expressed any approval of
 
 188 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 what he said. When he sat down Babberly rose at 
 once. 
 
 Now Babberly is no fool. He knows that florid ora- 
 tions are out of place at committee meetings. He did 
 not treat us to any oratory. He gave us tersely and forci- 
 bly several excellent reasons for postponing our demon- 
 stration. 
 
 " The Government," he said, " is weakening. Its 
 offer of a compromise shows that it is beginning at last 
 to feel the full force of the Ulster objection to Home 
 Rule." 
 
 Here McNeice interrupted him. 
 
 " If that's so," he said, " we must make our objection 
 more unmistakably obvious than before." 
 
 " Quite so," said Babberly ; " but how ? Is it " 
 
 " By fighting them," said McNeice. 
 
 " If by fighting them," said Babberly, " you mean 
 asking the unarmed citizens of Belfast to stand up 
 against rifles " 
 
 " Unarmed ? " The word came from Conroy in his 
 corner. Every one was startled. We had not ex- 
 pected Conroy to take any part in the discussion. 
 
 " Undrilled, undisciplined," said Babberly. " What 
 can be the result of such a conflict as you suggest? 
 Our people, the men who have trusted us, will be mowed 
 down. We shall place ourselves hopelessly in the 
 wrong. We shall alienate the sympathies of our friends 
 in England." 
 
 A large crowd had gathered in the street outside the 
 windows of the room in which we were sitting. I sup- 
 pose that the men found waiting a tiresome business. 
 By way of passing the time they began to sing " O 
 God, our help in ages past."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 189 
 
 " It is of the utmost importance to us," said Bab- 
 berly, " to retain the sympathies of the English constit- 
 uencies. Any illegal violence on our part " 
 
 " You should have thought of that before you told 
 the English people that we meant to fight," said Mc- 
 Neice. 
 
 " If you follow my advice to-day," said Babberly, 
 " there will be no necessity for fighting." 
 
 The hymn outside gathered volume. It seemed to me 
 that thousands of voices were joining in the singing of 
 it. It became exceedingly difficult to hear what Bab- 
 berly was saying. I leaned forward and caught his 
 next few sentences. 
 
 " By keeping within the limits of constitutional ac- 
 tion at this crisis we shall demonstrate that we are, what 
 we have always boasted ourselves, the party of law 
 and order. We shall win a bloodless victory. We 
 shall convince the Government that we possess self-con- 
 trol as well as determination." 
 
 Then the noise of the singing outside became so 
 great that it was impossible to hear Babberly at all. 
 McNeice tilted his chair back and began to hum the 
 tune. Malcolmson beat time to the singing with his 
 forefingers. Their action seemed to me to be inten- 
 tionally insulting to Babberly. The crowd outside 
 reached the end of a verse and there was a pause. 
 
 " Damn that hymn ! " said Babberly. 
 
 This roused the Dean. It would have roused any 
 dean with a particle of spirit in him. After all, a 
 high ecclesiastic cannot sit still and listen to profane 
 condemnation of one of the Psalms of David, even if 
 it has undergone versification at the hands of Dr. 
 Watts. The conduct of McNeice and Malcolmson was
 
 190 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 offensive and provocative. The noise made by the 
 crowd was maddening. There is every excuse for Bab- 
 berly's sudden loss of temper. But the Dean's anger 
 was more than excusable. It was justified. He 
 sprang to his feet, and I knew at once that he was very 
 angry indeed. I could see a broad white rim all round 
 the irises of his eyes, and a pulse in his temples was 
 throbbing visibly. I recognized the symptoms. I had 
 seen them once before at a vestry meeting when some 
 ill-conditioned parishioner said that the Dean's curate 
 was converting to his own uses the profits of the parish 
 magazine. The periodical, as appeared later on, was 
 actually run at a loss, and the curate had been seven- 
 and-ninepence out of pocket the previous year. 
 
 The Dean said something to Babberly, but the crowd 
 had begun the fourth verse of the hymn, and we could 
 not hear what he said. I got up and shut both win- 
 dows. The atmosphere of our committee-room was 
 hot, and likely to become hotter; but it is better to do 
 business in a Turkish bath than not to do it at all. 
 There was plainly no use our talking to each other un- 
 less we were able to hear. My action gave Babberly 
 time to regain his temper. 
 
 " I apologize," he said. " I apologize to all of you, 
 and especially to you, Mr. Dean, for an intemperate and 
 uncalled-for exclamation." 
 
 The Dean sat down. The pulse in his forehead was 
 still throbbing, but the irises of his eyes ceased to look 
 like bulls' eyes in the middle of targets. 
 
 " I have been a consistent supporter of the Union," 
 said Babberly, " for twenty years. In season and out of 
 season I have upheld the cause we have at heart on 
 English platforms and in the House of Commons. I
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 191 
 
 know better than you do, gentlemen, what the temper 
 of the English people is. I know that we shall sacri- 
 fice their friendship and alienate their sympathy if we 
 resort to the argument of lawlessness and violence." 
 
 " It's the only argument they ever listen to," said 
 McNeice. " Look at the Nationalists. What argu- 
 ments did they use ? " 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Babberly, " are you going to ask 
 Ulstermen to fire on the King's troops?" 
 
 " I reckon," said Conroy, " that we mean to use our 
 guns now we've got them." 
 
 Babberly made a curious gesture with his hands. 
 He flung them out from him with the palms upwards 
 and then sat down. McNeice rose next. 
 
 " For the last two years," he said, " we've been boast- 
 ing that we meant to resist Home Rule with force if 
 necessary. That's so, isn't it ? " 
 
 Malcolmson growled an assent. 
 
 " English politicians and Irish rebels said we were 
 bluffing. Our own people the men outside there in 
 the street thought we were in earnest. The English 
 went on with their Bill. Our people drilled and got 
 rifles. Which of the two was right about us? Were 
 we bluffing or were we in earnest? We've got to an- 
 swer that question to-morrow, and we'll never get an- 
 other chance. If we don't fight now, we'll never fight, 
 for there won't be a man left in Ulster that will believe 
 in us again. I don't know that there's any more to be 
 said. I propose that Lord Moyne puts the question to 
 the meeting and takes a vote." 
 
 Then Cahoon rose to his feet. 
 
 " Before you do that, my lord," he said, " I'd like to 
 say a word. I'm a business man. I've as much at
 
 192 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 stake as any one in this room. My fortune, gentlemen, 
 is in bricks and mortar, in machinery and plant not ten 
 miles from this city. I've thought this matter out, and 
 I came to a conclusion years ago. Home Rule won't 
 do for Belfast, and Belfast isn't going to have it. If I 
 saw any way of stopping it but the one I'd take it. 
 There are thousands, yes, gentlemen, thousands of men, 
 women, and children depending on my business for 
 their living. Home Rule means ruining it and starving 
 them. I don't like fighting, but, by God, I'll fight before 
 I submit to Home Rule." 
 
 Lord Moyne looked slowly round the room. His 
 face was quite pale. It seemed to me that his eyes had 
 grown larger. They had a look of terror in them. 
 His hands trembled among the papers in front of him. 
 He saw at once what the result of a vote would be. 
 He looked at me. I shook my head. It was quite plain 
 that nothing I could say would influence the meeting in 
 the least. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Moyne, " are we to attempt to 
 hold our meeting to-morrow? Those who are in fa- 
 vour of doing so say ' Aye.' " 
 
 Cahoon, McNeice, Malcolmson, the Dean and Conroy 
 voted " aye." 
 
 " The * ayes ' have it," said Moyne. 
 
 " Before we part," said Babberly, " I wish to say that 
 I leave Belfast to-night " 
 
 Malcolmson muttered something. Babberly held up 
 his hand. 
 
 " No," he said. " You are wrong. I'm not afraid. 
 I'm not taking care of my own skin. But I have lived 
 a loyal man and I mean to die a loyal man. I decline 
 to take part in the rebellion."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 193 
 
 I have heard Babberly speak on various occasions and 
 admired his eloquence. This time I recognized his sin- 
 cerity. He was speaking the truth. 
 
 " I shall go back to England," he said, " and, of this 
 you may rest assured, that I shall do what can be done 
 in Parliament and elsewhere to save you and the men 
 whom I must call your victims from the consequences 
 of to-day's madness and to-morrow's crime." 
 
 He left the room. The five men who had voted 
 " Aye " were gathered in a knot talking eagerly. I took 
 Moyne's arm and we went out together. 
 
 " Her ladyship must be got away," he said. " And 
 your daughter, Kilmore. She's here, isn't she? This 
 town will be no place for women to-morrow. Luckily 
 I have the car. You'll take them, won't you? Castle 
 Affey will be the best place for the present." 
 
 " What are you going to do yourself? " I asked. 
 
 We passed through the door and down the flight of 
 steps to the street. The crowd outside caught sight of 
 us at once. Some one shouted aloud. 
 
 " More traitors ! " 
 
 The news of the result of the meeting and the part 
 we took in it had somehow reached the people already. 
 An angry roar went up from the crowd. Those who 
 were nearest to us cursed us. A police-officer with 
 eight men forced a way through the crowd. At a word 
 from their officer the men drew their batons and stood 
 in front of us. 
 
 " I think, my lord," said the officer to Moyne, " that 
 you'd better go back. We had the greatest difficulty in 
 getting Mr. Babberly through, and the crowd is angrier 
 now." 
 
 " I'm going on," said Moyne.
 
 194 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " I cannot be responsible," said the officer. " I 
 haven't enough men to control this crowd. If you go 
 on" 
 
 Moyne pushed his way through the cordon of police. 
 I followed him. At first the people drew back a little 
 and let us pass into the middle of the crowd. Then one 
 man after another began to hustle us. Moyne linked 
 his arm in mine and helped me along. A man struck 
 him in the face with the flat of his hand. It was a 
 sharp slap rather than an actual blow. Moyne flushed 
 deeply, but he neither spoke nor struck back. Then 
 suddenly the people seemed to forget all about us. A 
 wild cheer burst from them. Hats were flung into the 
 air. Sticks were waved. Some one began firing shots 
 from a revolver in rapid succession. It was a fusillade 
 of joy, a kind of salute to McNeice who appeared at the 
 window of the Committee room. Moyne and I pushed 
 our way on. When we were clear of the crowd Moyne 
 spoke to me again. 
 
 "You'd better take them at once," he said. "It's 
 impossible to know what'll happen here to-night." 
 
 "But you?" I said. 
 
 " Oh, I shall stay." 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Moyne," I said. " You're the one 
 of all others who ought not to stay. Don't you see that 
 whatever way things go you're in for it? The mob 
 thinks you're a traitor. I wouldn't trust those fellows 
 weVe just left not to kill you. And when the soldiers 
 have shot them down and the subsequent investigation 
 begins, the Government is bound to fix on you as a 
 ringleader. There'll be panic to-morrow and savage 
 vindictiveness the next day. McNeice and Malcolmson 
 will frighten the Government and the Government will
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 195 
 
 have you hanged or beheaded afterwards for causing 
 the trouble. The English people will clamour for a 
 victim, and you're exactly the sort of victim they'll like. 
 Your one chance is to get out of this. Go to Castle 
 Affey to-night, and telegraph to The Times to-morrow 
 to say that you dissociate yourself " 
 
 Moyne stopped me. 
 
 " Look here, Kilmore," he said. " I've heard all you 
 have to say, and I agree with it, more or less. I don't 
 suppose I'll be either murdered by the mob or shot by 
 the military, but " 
 
 " You will," I said, " if you stay here." 
 
 " Even if I am," he said, " I'll have to stay." 
 
 " In the name of goodness, why ? " 
 
 " You know the way we've been talking for the last 
 two years our side, I mean." 
 
 I knew the way Babberly had been talking. I knew 
 the way Lady Moyne had goaded him and others to 
 talk, but poor Moyne hardly ever talked at all. All he 
 ever wanted was to be left alone. 
 
 " Well, I can't exactly go back on them now when 
 they're doing what we said they ought to do. I've got 
 to see the thing through. After all it's my fault that 
 those poor fellows are in this horrible mess." 
 
 He glanced back as he spoke. He was thinking of 
 the angry crowd we had left behind us. 
 
 " So you'll take care of the ladies," he said. " Run 
 them down to Castle Affey and make yourself as com- 
 fortable as you can. They won't be expecting you, but 
 they'll manage some sort of dinner." 
 
 " I'm not going," I said. " I'm staying on in Bel- 
 fast." 
 
 " But why should you ? You've no responsibility.
 
 196 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 You've never taken any part in our It's very good 
 of you to think of staying. It really is. And I appre- 
 ciate the spirit in which But " 
 
 " For goodness' sake, Moyne," I said, " don't give 
 me credit for any kind of heroism. That noblesse 
 oblige attitude of yours doesn't suit me a bit. It isn't in 
 my line." 
 
 " But hang it all, Kilmore, you can't be staying here 
 for the fun of it." 
 
 " I've often told you," I said, " that I'm writing a 
 history of the Irish Rebellions. I naturally want to see 
 one, and there isn't likely to be another in my time. 
 That's my only reason for staying in Belfast." 
 
 We found Lady Moyne waiting for us when we 
 reached the hotel. She was wearing a long cloak, and 
 had a motor-veil tied over her head. She was evidently 
 prepared to start at once. 
 
 " I've ordered the car," she said. " It ought to be 
 round now. Marion's coming with me, Lord Kilmore. 
 I think she'd be better out of Belfast for the next few 
 days." 
 
 The news of the decision of our committee seemed 
 to have spread with quite unexampled rapidity. We 
 came straight from the meeting, and we found that Lady 
 Moyne had already recognized the necessity for flight. 
 
 " I'm glad you're going," said Moyne, " and I'm glad 
 you're taking Marion with you. But how did you 
 know? Who told you what ? " 
 
 " That young man who's Mr. Conroy's secretary," 
 said Lady Moyne. " I forget his name." 
 
 " Bob Power," I said. 
 
 " He came in to see Marion, and he told us." 
 
 Bob must have known beforehand what the commit-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 197 
 
 tee's decision was to be. I realized that Conroy must 
 have had the whole plan cut and dried; that the meet- 
 ing at which Moyne presided was simply a farce. How- 
 ever, there was nothing to be gained by discussing 
 that. 
 
 " I think," I said, " that Moyne ought to go with 
 you. I don't think Belfast is particularly safe for him 
 just now ; and " 
 
 " Moyne must stay, of course," said Lady Moyne. 
 
 "There'll be trouble afterwards," I said. "He 
 ought not to be mixed up in it. If he clears out at 
 once " 
 
 Lady Moyne looked at me with an expression of won- 
 der on her face. Her eyes opened very wide. 
 
 " Surely," she said, " you don't expect him to run 
 away." 
 
 " Of course not," said Moyne; " of course not. And 
 there's really no risk. I'll " 
 
 " That's not the kind of people we are," said Lady 
 Moyne. 
 
 " I'll join you at Castle Affey in a couple of days," 
 said Moyne. 
 
 " Castle Affey," said Lady Moyne. " I'm not going 
 to Castle Affey. I'm going to London." 
 
 " What for?" I said. " And how are you going to 
 get there? There are no steamers on Sunday night." 
 
 " I'm taking possession of Mr. Conroy's yacht," said 
 Lady Moyne. " She's lying off Bangor, and that young 
 man, Mr. Power, said we could have her. We'll get 
 across to Stranraer this evening, and I'll have a special 
 train and be in London to-morrow morning." 
 
 "London!" said Moyne. "But why London ? 
 Surely Castle Affey "
 
 198 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " I must see the Prime Minister early tomorrow. 
 He must be persuaded he must be forced if neces- 
 sary to telegraph orders to Belfast. Don't you real- 
 ize ? I don't blame you, I don't blame either of you for 
 the failure of your meeting this afternoon. I'm sure 
 you did your best. But but what will happen here 
 to-morrow ? We can't leave the people to be shot down 
 like dogs. After all, they're our people." 
 
 " But what can you do? " said Moyne. " The Prime 
 Minister won't see you." 
 
 " If necessary I shall force him," said Lady Moyne. 
 " He shall see me." 
 
 Lady Moyne is, as I have always said, a remarkable 
 woman. Many members of her sex have been trying 
 for years to force their way into the presence of the 
 Prime Minister. They have hitherto failed. 
 
 " I am afraid," I said, " that Marion won't be much 
 use to you if you're going to come into collision with 
 the police in any way." 
 
 Lady Moyne smiled. 
 
 " I hope I shan't be reduced to those methods," she 
 said ; " but if I am I shall leave Marion at home." 
 
 I had not the slightest doubt that Lady Moyne would 
 succeed in seeing the Prime Minister. He has proba- 
 bly sense enough to know that though he may resist 
 other women successfully, he cannot possibly make 
 head against her. 
 
 "If there is no rioting here to-night," said Lady 
 Moyne, " I shall be in time. That young man, Mr. 
 Power, seemed to think that everything would be quiet 
 until to-morrow. I hope he's right." 
 
 " He's sure to be," I said. " Conroy is running the 
 revolution and settles exactly what is to happen."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 199 
 
 " He was very confident," said Lady Moyne. " Ah ! 
 here's Marion. Now we can start. Good-bye, Lord 
 Kilmore. Do your best here. I'll make the best ar- 
 rangement I can with the Prime Minister."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 MOYNE and I dined together in the hotel. We 
 should have got a better dinner at the club, and 
 I wanted to go there. But Moyne was afraid of the 
 other men's talk. It was likely that there would be 
 some very eager talk at the club; and Moyne, whose 
 name still figured on placards as chairman of next day's 
 meeting would have been a butt for every kind of anx- 
 ious inquiry. 
 
 We did not altogether escape talk by staying in the 
 hotel. 
 
 Just as we were sitting down to dinner I was told 
 that Bob Power wished to see me. Moyne wanted me 
 to send him away ; but I could not well refuse an inter- 
 view to the man who was to be my son-in-law. I gave 
 that as my excuse to Moyne. In reality I was filled 
 with curiosity, and wanted to hear what Bob would 
 say to us. I told the waiter to show him in. He car- 
 ried no visible weapon of any kind, but he was wearing 
 a light blue scarf round his left arm. I suppose I 
 stared at it. 
 
 " Our nearest approach to a uniform," he said. 
 (C Something of the sort was necessary." 
 
 " But why light blue? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. It's a good colour, easily seen. 
 The men are to wear orange, of course. I'm an 
 officer." 
 
 " Captain or Colonel or Knight at Arms ? " I asked, 
 
 5200
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 201 
 
 " We haven't bothered about titles," said Bob, who 
 did not seem to recognize the question. " We haven't 
 had time to settle details of any sort. In fact I haven't 
 much time now. I just dropped in to tell you that you 
 needn't be nervous about to-night. We have our men 
 well under control, and the police ought to be able to 
 deal with the rabble. If they can't if there's any 
 sign of rioting we step in and stop it at once." 
 
 He pulled a revolver from his coat pocket as he 
 spoke. It gave us the necessary information about the 
 way in which rioting was to be stopped. 
 
 " I shall be on patrol all night," he said. " My 
 orders " 
 
 " By the way," I said, " excuse my asking a stupid 
 sort of question. But who gives you your orders? 
 Who is Commander-in-Chief ? " 
 
 " Conroy, of course. Didn't you know ? He organ- 
 ized the whole thing. Wonderful head Conroy has. 
 I don't wonder he became a millionaire. He has his 
 men under perfect control. They may not look 
 starchy when you see them in the streets, but they'll 
 do what they're told. I thought you and Lord Moyne 
 would be glad to know, so I dropped in to tell you. I 
 must be off now." 
 
 He got as far as the door and then turned. 
 
 " Marion and Lady Moyne got away all right," he 
 said. " I saw them off." 
 
 Then he left us. 
 
 " That's good news as far as it goes," I said. 
 
 " I'm not sure," said Moyne. " I'm not at all sure. 
 If there had been a riot to-night, the ordinary sort of 
 riot but I don't know. It's very hard to know what 
 to hope for."
 
 202 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 If there had been an ordinary riot that night, and 
 if it had been sternly and promptly suppressed, there 
 would perhaps have been no battle next day. If, on 
 the other hand, Conroy and Bob and the others could 
 keep their men under control, if they could secure the 
 peace of the city for the night, then the fighting next 
 day was likely to be serious. As Moyne said, it was 
 very hard to know what to hope for. 
 
 The waiter brought in our fish, and with it a message 
 from Sir Samuel Clithering. He wanted to see Moyne. 
 I had had enough of Clithering for one day, so I made 
 no objection when Moyne flatly refused to see him. 
 
 I suppose a man cannot be a successful manufacturer 
 of hosiery in the English midlands without possessing 
 the quality of persistence. Clithering had it. He sent 
 another message to say that his business was very im- 
 portant. Moyne said that he and his business might 
 go to hell together. I hope the waiter translated this 
 message into parliamentary language. Clithering is a 
 Nonconformist, and therefore a man of tender con- 
 science. I should not like him to be shocked. 
 
 The hotel cook was doing his best for us. He sent 
 us up an entree. With it came a note from Clithering. 
 
 " I'm sending a telegram to the Prime Minister de- 
 scribing the condition of affairs here. May I say that 
 you have refused to preside at the meeting to-mor- 
 row?" 
 
 Moyne showed me the note. Then he scribbled an 
 answer on the back of it. 
 
 " You may tell the Prime Minister that if a meeting 
 is held I shall preside. The announcements made in 
 the papers and posters stand good." 
 
 " Do you think that's wise ? " I asked.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 203 
 
 " I think it's right," said Moyne. 
 
 It is a great pity that right things very seldom are 
 wise. I have hardly ever met anything which could 
 possibly be called prudent which was not also either 
 mean or actually wrong. 
 
 Our next interruption was due to a newspaper re- 
 porter. He represented several papers, among others 
 one in New York. He had the names of all of them 
 printed on his card, but they did not impress Moyne. 
 Our waiter, who was beginning to swell with a sense 
 of his own importance, drove off that newspaper re- 
 porter. Three others, all of them representing papers 
 of high standing, sent in their cards in quick succession. 
 Moyne laid a sovereign on the table and told the waiter 
 that he could have it as a tip on condition that no one 
 got into the room while we were at dinner. 
 
 The waiter got the sovereign in the end ; but he did 
 not deserve it. While we were drinking our coffee a 
 young man overwhelmed our waiter and forced his way 
 into the room. There were two doors in our room, 
 which is one of what is called a suite. As the young 
 man entered by one, Moyne, leaving his coffee and his 
 sovereign behind him, left by the other. He shut it 
 with a slam and locked it. 
 
 " Lord Moyne, I presume ? " said the young man. 
 
 " Lord Moyne," I said, " has just left." 
 
 " May I ask," he said, " if I have the honour of 
 addressing Mr. McNeice ? " 
 
 I explained that I was not McNeice. Then, in order 
 to get him to go away, if possible, I added that I was 
 not Malcolmson, or Cahoon, or Conroy, or the Dean. 
 
 " If you'll pardon my curiosity," he said, " I should 
 like to ask"
 
 204 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 I saw that I should be obliged to tell him who I was 
 in the end. I told him at once, adding that I was a 
 person of no importance whatever, and that I had no 
 views of any kind on what he would no doubt want 
 to call " the situation." 
 
 " May I ask you one question ? " he said. " Is Lord 
 Moyne going to take the chair to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said, " he is. But if you're going to print 
 what I say in any paper I won't speak another word." 
 
 " As a matter of fact," he said, " the wires are blocked. 
 There's a man in the post office writing as hard as he 
 can and handing one sheet after another across the 
 counter as quick as he can write them. Nobody else 
 can send anything." 
 
 " dithering, I expect." 
 
 " Very likely. Seems to fancy himself a bit, who- 
 ever he is. Nobody else can get a message through." 
 
 He seemed an agreeable young man. Moyne had 
 probably gone to bed and I did not want to spend a 
 lonely evening. 
 
 " Have a glass of claret," I said. 
 
 He sat down and poured himself off half a tumbler- 
 full. Then it struck him that he owed me some return 
 for my hospitality. 
 
 " My name," he said, " is Bland. I was with Rob- 
 erts' column in the Orange Free State." 
 
 " Ah ! " I said. " A war correspondent." 
 
 "I did the Greek War, too," he said. "A poor 
 affair, very. Looks to me as if you were going to do 
 better here. But it's a curious situation." 
 
 " Very," I said, " and most unpleasant." 
 
 " From my point of view," said Bland, " it's most 
 interesting. The usual thing is for one army to clear
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 205 
 
 out of a town before the other comes in or else to sur- 
 render after a regular siege. But here " 
 
 " I'm afraid," I said, " that our proceedings are 
 frightfully irregular." 
 
 " None the worse for that," said Bland kindly. 
 " But they are a bit peculiar. I've read up quite a lot 
 of military history and I don't recollect a single case in 
 which two hostile armies patrolled the streets of the 
 same city without firing a shot at one another. By the 
 way, have you been out ? " 
 
 " Not since this afternoon," I said. 
 
 " It would be quite worth your while to take a stroll 
 round," said Bland. " There's not the slightest risk 
 and you may never have a chance of seeing anything 
 like it again." 
 
 I quite agreed with Bland. The odds are, I suppose, 
 thousands to one against my ever again seeing two hos- 
 tile armies walking up and down opposite sides of the 
 street. I got my hat and we went out together. 
 
 We were almost immediately stopped by a body of 
 lancers. Their leader asked us who we were and 
 where we were going. 
 
 " Press correspondents," said Bland, " on our way 
 to the telegraph office." 
 
 This impressed the officer. He allowed us to go on 
 without ordering his men to impale us. I was glad of 
 this. I am not particularly afraid of being killed, but 
 I would rather meet my end by a sword cut or a bullet 
 than by a lance. I should feel like a wild pig if a 
 lancer speared me. No one could die with dignity and 
 self-respect if he felt like a wild pig while he was pass- 
 ing away. 
 
 " In ordinary wars," said Bland, " the best thing to
 
 206 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 say is that you are a doctor attached to the Ambulance 
 Corps. But that's no use here. These fellows don't 
 want doctors ! " 
 
 Then we met a party of volunteers. They stopped 
 us too, and challenged us very sternly. Bland gave his 
 answer. This time it did not prove wholly satisfactory, 
 
 " Protestant or Papist ? " said the officer in command. 
 
 " Neither," said Bland, " I'm a high caste Brahmin." 
 
 Fortunately I recognized the officer's voice. It was 
 Crossan who commanded this particular regiment. It 
 never was safe, even in the quietest times, to be flip- 
 pant with Crossan. On a night like that and under the 
 existing circumstances, Bland might very well have 
 been knocked on the head for his joke if I had not come 
 to his rescue. 
 
 " Crossan," I said, " don't make a fuss. Mr. Bland 
 and I are simply taking a walk round the streets." 
 
 " If he's a Papist," said Crossan, " he'll have to go 
 home to his bed. Them's my orders. We don't want 
 rioting in the streets to-night." 
 
 I turned to Bland. 
 
 " What is your religion ? " I asked. 
 
 " Haven't any," he said. " I haven't believed any 
 doctrine taught by any Church since I was six years 
 old. Will that satisfy you ? " 
 
 " I was afeard," said Crossan, " that you might be a 
 Papist. You can go on." 
 
 This shows, I think, that the charges of bigotry and 
 intolerance brought against our Northern Protestants 
 are quite unfounded. Crossan had no wish to perse- 
 cute even a professed atheist. 
 
 We did not go very far though we were out for 
 nearly two hours. The streets were filled with armed
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 207 
 
 men and everybody we met challenged us. The~police- 
 were the hardest to get rid of. They were no doubt 
 soured by the treatment they received in Belfast. Ac- 
 customed to be regarded with awe by rural malefactors 
 and denounced in flaming periods, of a kind highly 
 gratifying to their self-importance, by political leaders, 
 they could not understand a people who did not men- 
 tion them in speeches but threatened their lives with 
 paving stones. This had been their previous experi- 
 ence of Belfast and they were naturally suspicious of 
 any stray wayfarers whom they met. They were not 
 impressed when Bland said he was a newspaper re- 
 porter. They did not seem to care whether he believed 
 or disbelieved the Apostles' Creed. One party of them 
 actually arrested us and only a ready lie of Bland's 
 saved us from spending an uncomfortable night. He 
 said, to my absolute amazement, that we were officials 
 of an exalted kind, sent down by the Local Govern- 
 ment Board to hold a sworn inquiry into the condition 
 of Belfast. This struck me at the time as an outrage- 
 ously silly story, but it was really a rather good one to 
 tell. The Irish police are accustomed to sworn in- 
 quiries as one of the last resorts of harassed Govern- 
 ments. It seemed to the sergeant quite natural that 
 somebody should be in Belfast to hold one. 
 
 We came across McConkey with his machine gun at 
 a street corner. He had got a new crew to pull it 
 along. I suppose the first men were utterly exhausted. 
 But McConkey himself was quite fresh. Enthusiasm 
 for the weapon on which he had spent the savings of 
 a lifetime kept him from fatigue. 
 
 The experience was immensely interesting; but I be- 
 gan to get tired after a time. The necessity for ex-
 
 208 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 plaining what we were or rather what we were not 
 at the end of every fifty yards, began to make me 
 nervous. Eland's spirits kept up, but Bland is a war 
 correspondent and accustomed to being harried by mil- 
 itary authorities. I am not. It was a comfort to me 
 when we ran into Bob Power's regiment outside the 
 Ulster Hall. 
 
 " Bob," I said, " I want to get back to my hotel. I 
 wish you'd see me safe, chaperone me, convoy me, or 
 whatever you call the thing I want you to do." 
 
 Bland tugged at my sleeve. 
 
 " Get him to take me to the post-office," he said. 
 " I'll have another go at getting a telegram through." 
 
 " Bob," I said, " this is my friend Mr. Bland. He's 
 a war correspondent and he wants to get to the post- 
 office." 
 
 My return to the hotel was simple enough. The 
 police kept out of the way of Bob's men. The other 
 soldiers let him and his regiment pass without chal- 
 lenge. Bland, faithful to his professional duties, 
 poured out questions as we went along. 
 
 " How's it managed ? " he said. " Why aren't you 
 at each other's throats ? " 
 
 " So far as we're concerned," said Bob, " there's 
 nothing to fight about. We don't object to the soldiers 
 or the police. We're loyal men." 
 
 " Oh, are you? " said Bland. 
 
 " Quite." 
 
 " Unless our meeting's interrupted to-morrow," I 
 said. 
 
 " Of course," said Bob. 
 
 " That explains your position all right," said Bland.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 209 
 
 " But I don't quite understand the others. I should 
 have thought " 
 
 " The soldiers," said Bob, " have strict orders not to 
 provoke a conflict. I met Henderson just now and he 
 told me so. You remember Henderson, Lord Kil- 
 more? The man I was talking to at the railway sta- 
 tion. He'd only had two water biscuits to eat all day 
 yesterday. When I met him just now he told me he'd 
 had nothing since breakfast to-day but one bit of but- 
 terscotch. He said he wished we'd fight at once if we 
 were going to fight and get it over." 
 
 " But the police " said Bland, still trying to get in- 
 formation. " I should have thought the police " 
 
 " They tried to arrest us," I said. " In fact they did 
 arrest us but they let us go again." 
 
 "I dare say they'd like to arrest us," said Bob, "but 
 you see we've all got guns." 
 
 " Ah," said Bland, " and the ordinary inhabitants of 
 the city ?" 
 
 " They're in bed," said Bob, " and we've all agreed 
 that they'd better stay there. Nobody wants a riot." 
 
 " Thanks," said Bland. " If I can get my wire 
 through I'll let the world know the exact position of 
 affairs." 
 
 " If you are wiring," said Bob, " you might like to 
 mention that there was jolly nearly being a fight at the 
 gasworks. The military people got it into their heads 
 that we intended to turn off the gas and plunge the 
 town into darkness so as to be able to murder people 
 without being caught. They took possession of the 
 works and put a party of Royal Engineers in charge. 
 Fairly silly idea! But some fool on our side a fel-
 
 210 
 
 low who's been dragging a quick-firing gun about the 
 streets all day " 
 
 " McConkey," I said. " I know him." 
 
 " I didn't hear his name," said Bob, " but he got it 
 into his head that the Royal Engineers were going to 
 turn off the gas so that the soldiers could make short 
 work of us. He wanted to wipe out those engineers 
 with his gun. I don't suppose he'd have hit them, but 
 he'd certainly have tried if some one hadn't run and 
 fetched Conroy. He settled the matter at once." 
 
 " How ? " said Bland. " This story will be a scoop 
 for me. I don't expect any one else knows it." 
 
 " He handed the gasworks over to the police," said 
 Bob. 
 
 " But did that satisfy any one? " I asked. " I should 
 have thought that both the original parties would have 
 fallen upon the police." 
 
 " Not at all," said Bob. " The police are so much 
 the weakest party in the town that it's plainly to their 
 interest to keep the gas burning. Even the man with 
 the machine gun saw that." 
 
 I found Moyne waiting for me when I got back to 
 the hotel. He was very depressed and took no more 
 than a mere sip of the whisky and soda which I ordered 
 for him. I made an effort to cheer him a little before 
 I went to bed. 
 
 "I don't think," I said, "that there'll be a battle 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " I am sure there will. What's to stop it ? " 
 
 " The fact is," I said, " that everybody will be too 
 exhausted to fight. McConkey, for instance, is still 
 hauling that field gun of his about the streets. He 
 simply won't have strength enough left to-morrow to
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 211 
 
 shoot it off. All the soldiers and all the volunteers are 
 marching up and down. They mean to keep it up all 
 night. I should say that you and I and three or four 
 other sensible people who have gone to bed will have 
 the town entirely to ourselves to-morrow." 
 
 Moyne smiled feebly. 
 
 " I wish it was all well over," he said. " I hope the 
 Prime Minister won't be disagreeable to . It would 
 have been better, much better, if she'd gone to Castle 
 Affey." 
 
 " You needn't be a bit afraid of that," I said. 
 
 This time I spoke with real assurance. No man liv- 
 ing could be disagreeable to Lady Moyne, if she smiled 
 at him. When she left Belfast she was so much in 
 earnest and so anxious, that she would certainly smile 
 her very best at the Prime Minister. 
 
 " I don't know," said Moyne. " He may hold her 
 responsible to some extent. And she is, you know. 
 That's the worst of it, she is. We all are." 
 
 " Not at all," I said. 
 
 "Oh, but we are," said Moyne. "I feel that. I 
 wish to goodness we'd never " 
 
 " What I mean is that the Prime Minister won't hold 
 her responsible. After all, Moyne, he's a politician 
 himself. He'll understand." 
 
 " But we said we kept on saying Babberly and 
 all of us" 
 
 Moyne was becoming morbid. 
 
 " Don't be a fool," I said. " Of course we said 
 things. Everybody does. But we never intended to do 
 them. Any one accustomed to politics will understand 
 that. I expect the Prime Minister will be particularly 
 civil to Lady Moyne. He'll see the hole she's in."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 I WENT down to the club next morning at about 
 half-past ten o'clock, hoping to see Conroy. He, 
 so I thought, might be able to tell me what was likely 
 to happen during the day. Moyne could tell me noth- 
 ing. I left him in the hotel, desperately determined to 
 take the chair at any meeting that might be held; but 
 very doubtful about how he was to do it. 
 
 The streets were much less obviously martial than 
 they had been the night before. There were no sol- 
 diers to be seen. There were only a very few volun- 
 teers, and they did not seem to be doing anything 
 particular. The police there were not even many of 
 them looked quite peaceable, as if they had no more 
 terrific duties to perform than the regulation of traffic 
 and the arrest of errant drunkards. I began to think 
 that I had accidentally told Moyne the truth the night 
 before. All our warriors seemed to be in bed, ex- 
 hausted by their marching and counter-marching. I 
 did not even see McConkey with his machine gun. 
 This disappointed me. I thought McConkey was a 
 man of more grit. One night's work ought not to have 
 tired him out. 
 
 Clithering was in the club. He, at all events, was 
 still active. Very likely he was caught the night before 
 by some patrolling party and forced to go to bed. Un- 
 less he happened to be carrying some sort of certificate 
 of his religious faith in his pocket, Crossan would al- 
 
 212
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 213 
 
 most certainly have put him to bed. The moment he 
 saw me he came fussing up to me. 
 
 " I'm very glad to be able to tell you," he said, " that 
 the troops are to be kept in barracks to-day unless they 
 are urgently required. I'm sure you'll agree with me 
 that's a good plan." 
 
 " It depends," I said, " on the point of view you 
 take. It won't be at all a good plan for the police if 
 there's any fighting." 
 
 " I telegraphed to the Prime Minister last night," 
 said dithering ; " I sent a long, detailed message 
 
 " I heard about that," I said, " from one of the war 
 correspondents, a man called Bland. You rather 
 blocked the wires, and he couldn't get his messages 
 through." 
 
 " It was of the utmost possible importance," said 
 dithering, " that the Prime Minister should thoroughly 
 understand the situation. Our original idea was that 
 the appearance of large bodies of troops in the streets 
 would overawe " 
 
 " They weren't overawing any one," I said. 
 
 " So I saw. So I saw yesterday afternoon. I tele- 
 graphed at once. I gave it as my opinion that the 
 troops, so far from overawing, were exasperating the 
 populace. I suggested I'm sure you'll agree with 
 me that the suggestion was wise in fact I urged very 
 strongly that the troops should be kept out of sight to- 
 day under arms and ready for emergencies but 
 out of sight. I am in great hopes that the people will 
 settle down quietly. Now, what do you think, Lord 
 Kilmore?" 
 
 " They'll be quite quiet," I said, " if you let them hold 
 their meeting."
 
 214 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 "Oh, but that's impossible," said dithering. "I 
 quite agree with the Prime Minister there. Any sign 
 of weakness on the part of the Government at the pres- 
 ent crisis would be fatal, absolutely fatal. The Belfast 
 people must understand that they cannot be allowed to 
 defy the law." 
 
 " Then you'd better trot out your soldiers again, all 
 you've got." 
 
 Clithering did not seem at all pleased with this sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 " We shall rely upon the police," he said, " to put a 
 stop to the meeting. I do not anticipate that there will 
 be any organized " 
 
 " On the whole," I said, " I'm very glad I'm not a 
 policeman." 
 
 " Surely," said Clithering, " the responsible leaders 
 of the Unionist party will understand the criminal folly 
 of- You don't anticipate " 
 
 " I'm nothing of a prophet," I said ; " but if you ask 
 my opinion I'd say that the police will be wiped out in 
 about ten minutes. They're a very fine body of men; 
 but there aren't nearly enough of them. If you really 
 want to stop the meeting you'll have to get out the sol- 
 diers, and even with them " 
 
 " But we want to avoid bloodshed," said Clithering. 
 " We cannot have the citizens of Belfast shot down by 
 the military. Think of the consequences, the political 
 consequences. A Tory Government might but we! 
 Besides, the horrible moral guilt." 
 
 " It's no affair of mine," I said ; " but I should have 
 thought I dare say I am wrong. There may be no 
 moral guilt about killing policemen."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 215 
 
 " But they won't be killed," said dithering. " Our 
 one aim is to avoid bloodshed." 
 
 " You're trying the police rather high," I said. 
 " They'll do what you tell them, of course. But I don't 
 think it's quite fair to ask them to face ten times their 
 own number of men all armed with magazine rifles 
 when they have nothing but those ridiculous little 
 carbines." 
 
 " Oh, but the police are not to have firearms," said 
 Clithering. " Strict orders have been given batons 
 ought to be quite sufficient. We must avoid all risk of 
 bloodshed." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " I said. " Do you expect a hand- 
 ful of police with small, round sticks in their hands 
 Oh ! go away, Clithering. You mean well, I dare say, 
 but you're absurd." 
 
 It is very seldom that I lose my temper in this sud- 
 den way. I was sorry a moment afterwards that I had 
 given way to my feelings. Poor Clithering looked 
 deeply hurt. He turned from me with an expression 
 of pained astonishment and sat down by himself in a 
 corner. I pitied him so much that I made an effort to 
 console him. 
 
 "I dare say it will be all right," I said. "The 
 police will probably have sense enough to go away be- 
 fore they're shot. Then the meeting will be held quite 
 peaceably. I don't know what the political conse- 
 quences of that may be, but you'll get off the moral 
 guilt, and there'll be no bloodshed." 
 
 This ought to have cheered and consoled Clithering; 
 but it did not. It made him more nervous than ever. 
 
 " I must go at once," he said, " and see the General 
 in command. Everything must be "
 
 216 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 He left the room hurriedly without finishing his sen- 
 tence. This annoyed me. I wanted to know what 
 everything must be. 
 
 The reading-room of the club is on the first floor, 
 and the window commands an excellent view of Done- 
 gal Place, one of the principal thoroughfares of Bel- 
 fast. The club stands right across the eastern end of 
 the street, and the traffic is diverted to right and left 
 along Royal Avenue and High Street. At the far, the 
 western end, of Donegal Place, stands the new City 
 Hall, with the statute of Queen Victoria in front of it. 
 There again the traffic is split at right angles. Some 
 of the best shops in the town lie on either side of this 
 street. A continuous stream of trams passes up and 
 down it, to and from the junction, which is directly 
 under the club windows, and is the centre of the whole 
 Belfast tramway system. It is always pleasant to 
 stand at the reading-room window and watch the very 
 busy and strenuous traffic of this street. As a view 
 point on that particular morning the window was as 
 good as possible. Donegal Place is the chief and most 
 obvious way from the northern and eastern parts of 
 the city to the place where the meeting was to be held. 
 
 Between eleven o'clock and twelve the volunteers 
 began to appear in considerable numbers. I saw at 
 once that I had been wrong in supposing that they 
 meant to spend the day in bed. One company after 
 another came up Royal Avenue or swung round the 
 corner from High Street, and marched before my eyes 
 along Donegal Place towards the scene of the meeting. 
 Small bodies of police appeared here and there, head- 
 ing in the same direction. Now and then a few 
 mounted police trotted by, making nearly as much jan-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 217 
 
 gle as if they had been regular soldiers. The hour 
 fixed for the meeting was one o'clock, but at noon the 
 number of men in the street was so great that ordi- 
 nary traffic was stopped. A long line of trams, unable 
 to force their way along, blocked the centre of the thor- 
 oughfare. The drivers and conductors left them and 
 went away. Crowds of women and children collected 
 on the roofs of these trams and cheered the men as they 
 marched along. 
 
 At half-past twelve Moyne drove along in a carriage. 
 The Dean was beside him, and Cahoon had a seat with 
 his back to the horses. The progress of the carriage 
 was necessarily very slow. I could not see Moyne's 
 face, but he sat in a hunched-up attitude suggestive of 
 great misery. The Dean sat bolt upright, and kept tak- 
 ing off his hat to the crowd when cheers broke out. 
 Cahoon, whose face I could see, seemed cheerful and 
 confident. 
 
 At the back of the carriage, perched on a kind of 
 bar and holding on tightly to the springs, was Bland. 
 Barefooted urchins often ride in this way, and appear 
 to enjoy themselves until the coachman lashes back- 
 wards at them with his whip. I never saw a grown 
 man do it before, and I should have supposed that it 
 would be most uncomfortable. Bland, however, 
 seemed quite cheerful, and I admired the instinct which 
 led him to attach himself to Moyne's carriage. He 
 made sure of being present at the outbreak of hostilities, 
 since the meeting could neither be held nor stopped till 
 Moyne arrived ; and he had hit upon far the easiest way 
 of getting through the crowd which thronged Donegal 
 Place. 
 
 At a quarter to one Bob Power and his company
 
 2i8 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 arrived. Instead of marching to the scene of the meet- 
 ing Bob halted and drew his men across the end of the 
 street right underneath the club windows. Crossan, 
 with another company of volunteers, joined him. 
 
 Bob and Crossan consulted together, and Bob gave 
 an order which I could not hear. Two of his men laid 
 down their rifles and ran along the street, one taking 
 each side of the line of trams. They shouted to the 
 people on the roofs of the trams as they passed them. 
 The orders, if they were orders, were obeyed. There 
 was a hurried stampede of women and children. They 
 climbed down from the trams and ran along the street 
 towards my end of it. Bob's men opened their ranks 
 and let them go through. 
 
 One after another the shops in the streets were 
 closed. Roller blinds and shutters covered the win- 
 dows. A telegraph boy on a red bicycle rode through 
 Bob's lines into the empty street. He stopped and dis- 
 mounted, evidently puzzled by the deserted appearance 
 of the street. Two of the volunteers seized him and 
 took the envelope from his wallet. They sent him 
 back to the post-office. The poor boy was so fright- 
 ened that he left his bicycle behind him. 
 
 Bob gave an order and one of his men took the 
 bicycle and rode off in the direction of the meeting. A 
 few minutes later one of the club waiters brought the 
 telegram to me. It was from Lady Moyne. 
 
 " Saw the Prime Minister this morning. He is tak- 
 ing all possible measures to avoid bloodshed. Has tel- 
 egraphed instructions to the military authorities. Tell 
 Moyne. Am sending duplicate message to him. Want 
 to make sure of reaching him." 
 
 I glanced at my watch. It was five minutes past
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 219 
 
 one ; evidently too late to tell Moyne anything. What- 
 ever was happening at the scene of the meeting had 
 begun to happen at one o'clock. I waited. 
 
 Ten minutes later a motor car, driven at a furious 
 pace, dashed round the corner at the far end of the 
 street, and sped towards us. A single passenger sat 
 beside the driver. I recognized him at once. It was 
 Clithering. Halfway down the street he suddenly 
 caught sight of Bob's volunteers. He clutched the 
 driver by the arm. The car stopped abruptly, backed, 
 turned round and sped back again. I lost sight of it 
 as it swept round the corner. 
 
 Then followed another period of waiting in tense si- 
 lence. The men beneath me there must have been 
 about five hundred of them did not speak. They 
 scarcely moved. Bob and Crossan stood in front of 
 them, rigid, silent. 
 
 Bob's scout, the man who had mounted the telegraph 
 boy's red bicycle, appeared in front of the Town Hall 
 and came tearing along the street. He sprang to the 
 ground in front of Bob and Crossan and spoke to them 
 eagerly. They turned almost at once and gave an 
 order. Their men lay down. I heard the rattle of 
 their rifles on the pavement. I could see their hands 
 fiddling with the sights, slipping along the barrels and 
 stocks, opening and snapping shut the magazines. The 
 men were nervous, but, except for the movements of 
 their hands, they showed no signs of great excitement. 
 One man, near the end of the line, deliberately unbut- 
 toned his collar and threw it away. Another took off 
 his coat, folded it up carefully, and laid it on the ground 
 behind him. It struck me that it was his vest coat, a 
 Sunday garment which he was unwilling to soil. Bob
 
 220 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 walked slowly along the line, speaking in low tones to 
 the men. Crossan stood rigidly still a few paces in 
 front of the line, watching the far end of the street. 
 
 Another cyclist appeared and rode towards us. One 
 of the men fired his rifle. Crossan turned round, 
 walked back to the man, and struck him on the head. 
 Then he wrenched the rifle from his hands, threw it 
 into the street, and kicked the man savagely. The man 
 made no resistance. He got up and slowly left the 
 ranks, walking away shamefacedly with hanging head. 
 I do not think that Crossan had spoken to him, nor did 
 he speak to any one else. His action explained itself. 
 He turned his back on the men and once again stared 
 down the empty street. Discipline was evidently 
 to be strictly preserved in the ranks of the volunteers. 
 There was to be no shooting until the order was 
 given. 
 
 When Crossan's proceedings ceased to be interesting 
 I looked round to see what had become of the cyclist. 
 I caught sight of him in the custody of two volunteers. 
 He was shoved through the door of the club. I could 
 only see the top of his head, and so failed to recognize 
 him until he entered the room and came over to me. 
 
 "Bland," I said. "How did you get here?" 
 
 " I spotted this window," said Bland, " as I rode 
 along, and I asked them to put me in here. Is it a 
 club?" 
 
 "Yes," I said. "What happened at the meeting?" 
 
 " Get me a whisky and soda," said Bland, " if you're 
 a member." 
 
 I rang the bell. 
 
 "What happened?" I said. "Did they hold the 
 meeting? "
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 221 
 
 " They were holding it," said Bland, " when I left. 
 But it wasn't much of a meeting." 
 
 I ordered a whisky and soda from a terrified waiter. 
 
 " What about the police ? " I asked. 
 
 " They ran over the police," said Bland. " I don't 
 think they killed many. There wasn't any shooting. 
 The whole thing was done with a rush. Damned well 
 done. You couldn't call it a charge. The police were 
 drawn up in the middle of an open space where four 
 or five roads met. The men kind of flowed over them. 
 When the place was clear again, there weren't any 
 police. That's all. Ah ! here's the whisky ! " 
 
 He was evidently thirsty for he drank the whole 
 tumbler-full at a draught. 
 
 " What about Moyne ? " I said. " What did he do ? " 
 
 " Oh ! He stood up on the back seat of a carriage 
 and began to make a speech. But that didn't matter." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 " I don't know. I didn't stay to listen. I expect he 
 urged them not to kill any one. But it does not matter 
 what he said. The men with rifles, the volunteers, be- 
 gan to march off at once, in good order, some in one 
 direction, some in another. In five minutes there 
 wasn't anybody left to listen to Lord Moyne except a 
 few corner boys. I can tell you this, Lord Kilmore, 
 there's a man with a head on his shoulders behind this 
 insurrection. He has those men of his holding all the 
 most important parts of the town. I got hold of a 
 bicycle " 
 
 " How ? " I said. " You're very wonderful, Bland. 
 How did you get a bicycle in the middle of a battle- 
 field?" 
 
 " Stole it," said Bland. " It belonged to a police-
 
 222 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 man, but he is probably dead, so he won't mind. I 
 rode after two or three different parties of volunteers 
 just to see where they were going. When I got back to 
 the place of the meeting there was a body of cavalry 
 trotting up. I had a sort of feeling that the battle 
 would come this way. It ought to. This is the most 
 important place in the town. All lines of communica- 
 tion meet here. Your side has brains enough to see 
 that. The question is, will the soldiers attack them 
 here? I chanced it. If there's any good fighting to- 
 day it ought to be here." 
 
 I am not sure whether the General in command of 
 the troops had the brains to recognize that the post 
 which Bob Power held was the key to the whole situa- 
 tion. He did a good deal of desultory street fighting 
 in other places, and though he made a strong show of 
 attacking Bob Power in the end I think he was drawn 
 into it by accident. 
 
 Bland lit a cigarette, and he and I stood at the win- 
 dow watching. 
 
 A crowd of men appeared at the far end of the street, 
 running in wild disorder. They ran quite silently with 
 bent heads and outstretched hands. Behind them, im- 
 mediately behind them, came a squadron of dragoons 
 galloping. As the fugitives turned into the street the 
 soldiers overtook them and struck right and left with 
 their swords. They were using the flats, not the edges 
 of the blades. The fugitives staggered under the 
 blows. Some of them stumbled and fell; but I do not 
 think that any one was seriously hurt. 
 
 " Lord Moyne's audience," said Bland. " The cor- 
 ner boys. There's not an armed man among them." 
 
 I noticed that when he pointed it out to me. The
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 223 
 
 flying men, wild with terror, rushed into the empty 
 trams. For the moment they were safe enough. The 
 dragoons could not get at them without dismounting. 
 They pulled up their horses. 
 
 Bob Power gave an order. Rifles cracked all along 
 his line. The men must have emptied their magazines 
 before they stopped firing. The officer of the dragoons 
 gave an order. His squadron wheeled and galloped 
 back the way they came. Five horses lay plunging on 
 the ground. Four men dragged themselves clear of 
 their saddles and ran after their comrades. The other 
 lay where he fell. 
 
 Six men detached themselves from Bob's lines and 
 ran forward. In a few minutes they were dragging 
 the terrified fugitives from the trams and driving them 
 along the street. They came towards us, wailing aloud 
 in high shrill voices, like women. Behind them came 
 Bob's volunteers, carrying the wounded dragoon, and 
 supporting a couple of the fugitives who had been 
 knocked down by the soldiers. The howling men were 
 pushed through the ranks to the rear. The volunteers 
 closed up again in silence. Not even when the dra- 
 goons turned and galloped away did they break their 
 silence. I have heard of soldiers going into battle 
 with shouts and greeting moments of success with 
 cheers. These men fired on their enemies with- 
 out a shout and saw them fly without a cheer. Five 
 minutes later a company of infantry marched into the 
 street, extended into open order, and fired. Bob's men 
 fired. More infantry came. They deployed along the 
 front of the City Hall. The rifle fire from both ends 
 of the street was rapid and continuous. It was the 
 first time in my life that I had ever been in danger of
 
 224 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 being killed by a bullet. I confess that for a few min- 
 utes I was so nervous that I was unable to give any 
 attention to the fighting going on in front of me. So 
 many rifles were going off at the far end of the street 
 that it seemed certain that not only Bland and I but 
 every one of Bob's men must necessarily die at once. 
 To my very great surprise I was not hit. My nervous- 
 ness began to disappear. I peered out of the window 
 and noticed that none of Bob's men were either killed 
 or wounded. 
 
 " I suppose," I said to Bland, " that this is a regular 
 battle. You've had some experience so you ought to 
 know." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Bland, " it's a battle right enough 
 of sorts." 
 
 A bullet snicked through the window glass above my 
 head and buried itself in the wall at the far end of the 
 room. I looked at the volunteers again. They did not 
 seem to be suffering. I took a glance at the soldiers at 
 the far end of the street. The firing did not seem even 
 to annoy them. 
 
 " There seems to me," I said, " to be very little dam- 
 age done. Don't they usually kill each other in bat- 
 tles?" 
 
 " The shooting's damned bad," said Bland, " damned 
 bad on both sides. I never saw worse. I wonder if 
 they mean to shoot straight." 
 
 Bob's men, I think, were doing their best ; but they 
 were certainly making very bad practice. It did not 
 seem to me that during the first twenty minutes they 
 hit a single living thing except the four dragoon horses. 
 The walls of the houses on both sides of the street were 
 filled with bullet marks. A curious kind of shallow
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 225 
 
 furrow appeared about halfway down the street. At 
 first it seemed a mere line drawn on the ground. Then 
 it deepened into a little trench with a ridge of dust be- 
 yond it. 
 
 " There must "be a ton or two of good bullets buried 
 there," said Bland. " They haven't sighted for the dis- 
 tance." 
 
 " I don't blame the volunteers," I said, " but the sol- 
 diers really ought to shoot better. A lot of money is 
 spent on that army every year, and if they can't hit a 
 single enemy at that distance " 
 
 " I rather think," said Bland, " that the soldiers are 
 firing up into the air on purpose. That bullet which 
 came through our window is the only one which hit 
 anything. It's shocking waste of ammunition." 
 
 The door of the reading-room opened behind me. I 
 turned and saw Sir Samuel Clithering. He staggered 
 into the room and looked deadly white. For a mo- 
 ment I thought he must be blind. He plunged straight 
 into a table which stood in the middle of the room in 
 front of him. 
 
 " My God ! My God ! " he cried. 
 
 Then he was violently sick. He must have got into 
 the club somehow from the back. I went over to 
 him, intending to get him out of the room before 
 he was sick again. He clutched my arm and held me 
 tight. 
 
 " Stop it," he said. " Stop it. Promise them any- 
 thing, anything at all ; only get them to stop." 
 
 I did not quite know what Clithering wanted me to 
 do. It seemed absurd to go down to Bob Power and 
 offer, on behalf of the Government, to introduce 
 amendments into the Home Rule Bill. Yet something
 
 226 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 of the sort must have been in Clithering's mind when 
 he urged me to promise anything. He probably had 
 some vague idea of consulting the wishes of the elec- 
 torate. That is the sort of thing dithering would 
 think of doing in an emergency. 
 
 "It's horrible, too horrible," he said. "Oh God! 
 Bloodshed ! Bloodshed ! " 
 
 " Cheer up," I said, " I don't think a single man on 
 either side has been hit yet." 
 
 " I say," said Bland from the window, " did the sol- 
 diers get orders to fire over the people's heads ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Clithering. " Strict orders. The Cab- 
 inet was unanimous. The Prime Minister telegraphed 
 this morning." 
 
 " Rather rough on the peaceable inhabitants of the 
 town," said Bland, " the men who have kept out of the 
 battle. I suppose you forgot that bullets come down 
 again somewhere." 
 
 " I was in one of the back streets," wailed Clithering, 
 " far away " 
 
 " Exactly," said Bland, " it's just in back streets that 
 those things happen." 
 
 " It was a woman," said Clithering, " a girl with a 
 baby in her arms. I did not know what had happened. 
 I ran over to her. She and the baby both of them. 
 I shall never forget it. Oh ! " 
 
 Then he was sick again. Clithering is a highly civil- 
 ized man. I suppose one must be highly civilized if one 
 is to keep pace with the changing fashions in stockings. 
 It was out of what is called " Fancy Hosiery " that 
 Clithering made most of his money. I felt very sorry 
 for him, but his performances were making me feel 
 sick too. I joined Bland again at the window.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 227 
 
 " They've got a machine gun," said Bland. " Things 
 will get brisker now." 
 
 I looked out anxiously and saw with a sense of relief 
 that it was Bob's side which had got the new gun. 
 McConkey and his assistants had turned up from some- 
 where and were dragging their weapon into position 
 under the window of a large jeweller's shop on the left 
 flank of Bob's firing line. This was bad enough. In 
 street fighting at close quarters a gun of this kind is 
 very murderous and ought to do a terrible amount of 
 destruction. But things would have been much worse 
 if the soldiers had had it. They, I suppose, would 
 have known how to use it. I doubted McConkey's 
 skill in spite of his practice on the slob lands below the 
 Shore Road. 
 
 " The soldiers will have to shoot in earnest now," 
 said Bland. " If that fellow can handle his gun he'll 
 simply mow them down." 
 
 It looked at first, I am bound to say, as if McConkey 
 had really mastered his new trade. He got his weapon 
 into position and adjusted a belt of cartridges, working 
 as coolly as if he were arranging the machinery of the 
 Green Loaney Scutching Mill. He seemed to find a 
 horrible satisfaction in what he was doing. Twice I 
 saw him pat the muzzle of the thing as if to give it 
 encouragement. I dare say he talked to it. 
 
 " He's damned cool," said Bland. " I've seen fel- 
 lows who'd been fighting for months not half so " 
 
 Then McConkey started his infernal machine. The 
 effect was most surprising. Two tramcars, which were 
 standing close to the far end of the street, simply dis- 
 appeared. There was a kind of eruption of splintered 
 wood, shattered glass and small fragments of metal.
 
 228 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 When that subsided there was no sign of there ever 
 having been tramcars in that particular spot. Mc- 
 Conkey evidently noticed that he had not aimed his 
 pet quite straight. He stopped it at once. 
 
 An officer I think it was Bob's friend Henderson 
 sprang to his feet at the far end of the street and 
 ran along the line of soldiers shouting an order. 
 
 " They'll begin in earnest now," said Bland. " Why 
 doesn't he rattle them again with the gun ? " 
 
 McConkey had the best will in the world, but some- 
 thing had gone wrong with his gun; it was a compli- 
 cated machine, and he had evidently jammed some part 
 of it. I saw him working f renziedly with a large iron 
 spanner in his hand ; but nothing he could do produced 
 the least effect. It would not go off. 
 
 In the meantime Henderson's soldiers stood up and 
 stopped firing. The volunteers stopped firing too. 
 The soldiers formed in a line. There was silence in 
 the street for a moment, dead silence. I could hear 
 McConkey's spanner ringing against the iron of his 
 gun. Then Bob Power shouted. 
 
 " They're going to charge us. Up, boys, and come 
 on ! We'll meet them halfway." 
 
 " They're all gone mad together," said Bland. " You 
 can't charge down magazine] rifles. It's impossible." 
 
 " It seems to me," I said, " that if this battle is ever 
 to be finished at all they'll have to get at each other 
 with their fists. So far weapons have been a total 
 failure." 
 
 dithering crawled across the room while we were 
 speaking and clutched me by the legs. I do not think 
 it was fear of the bullets which made him crawl. He 
 had been so very sick that he was too weak to walk.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 229 
 
 "What's happening?" he said. "For God's sake 
 tell me. Are there many killed ? " 
 
 " No one yet on this side," I said. " There may be 
 a few soldiers hit, but I don't suppose you mind about 
 them. There's just going to be a charge. Get up and 
 you'll be able to see it." 
 
 Clithering caught the edge of the window-sash and 
 dragged himself to his feet. He was just in time to see 
 Bob's men rush along the street. They did not charge 
 in any sort of order. They simply spread out and 
 ran as fast as they could, as fast as I ever saw men 
 run. Some of them took their rifles with them. 
 Others, evidently agreeing with me that they would do 
 more destruction with their fists, left their rifles be- 
 hind. They covered fifty or sixty yards, and were 
 still going fast when they discovered that the soldiers 
 were not waiting for them. Henderson walked along- 
 side the leading men of the column with his ridiculously 
 long sword in his hand. Two mounted officers brought 
 up the rear. Two men, with their rifles sloped over 
 their shoulders, marched briskly across the end of the 
 street. In the middle of the column were eight stretch- 
 ers carried along. Bob's men, in spite of their bad 
 shooting, had wounded that number of their enemies. 
 I found out afterwards that they had killed three oth- 
 ers outright. The discipline of the British army must 
 be remarkably good. In spite of this heavy loss the 
 soldiers obeyed orders, and steadily refrained from 
 trying to kill Bob's men. Their final disappearance 
 was a crowning proof of their obedience. I watched 
 this body of infantry march out of sight into the next 
 street. They were not running away. They were not 
 even retreating. They gave me the impression of hav-
 
 230 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 ing stopped the battle in a way that was quite custom- 
 ary because it was time for them to do something else 
 get some dinner perhaps. 
 
 This performance produced, as might be expected, 
 a most disconcerting effect upon Bob's warriors. They 
 stopped running and stared at their departing foes. 
 Then they turned round and gaped at each other. 
 Then they applied to Bob Power for information. 
 They wanted to know, apparently, whether they had 
 gained a great and glorious victory, or were to regard 
 the departure of the enemy as some subtle kind of 
 strategy. Bob seemed as much puzzled as every one 
 else. Even Bland, in spite of his experience of battles 
 in two great wars, was taken aback. 
 
 " Well, I'm damned," he said. 
 
 " Thank God, thank God ! " said dithering. 
 
 Then he crumpled up and fainted. He meant, I 
 think, to express the relief he felt at the cessation of 
 hostilities. He had not heard, or if he heard, had not 
 heeded, Eland's remark. Clithering is not the type of 
 man to thank God for any one's damnation, and he had 
 no special dislike of Bland. 
 
 " I'm damned," said Bland again. 
 
 " I suppose," I said, " that it's rather unusual in bat- 
 tles to do that sort of thing march off, I mean 
 without giving some sort of notice to the other side. It 
 strikes me as rather bad form. There ought to be a 
 rule against it." 
 
 Bob's men returned, sheepishly and dejectedly, to 
 their original posts. Crossan was arguing with Mc- 
 Conkey about the condition of the machine gun. The 
 young man who had taken off his coat before the battle 
 picked it up from the ground, brushed it carefully, and
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 231 
 
 put it on. Bob Power walked along the street with a 
 note-book in his hands. He appeared to be writing 
 down the names of the shopkeepers whose windows 
 were broken. He is a young man of active and ener- 
 getic disposition. I suppose he felt that he must do 
 something. 
 
 Bland stared through the window for some time. 
 He hoped, I dare say, that the soldiers would come 
 back, with reinforcements, perhaps with artillery. At 
 last he gave up this idea. 
 
 " Let's have a drink," he said. " We want one." 
 
 He turned abruptly and stumbled over Clithering, 
 who had fallen just beside him. I got hold of a waiter, 
 the only one left in the club, and made him bring us a 
 whisky and soda. Bland squirted the syphon into 
 Clithering's face, and I poured small quantities of 
 whisky into his mouth. Clithering is a rigid teetotaller, 
 and has for years been supporting every Bill for the 
 suppression of public houses which has been brought 
 before Parliament. The whisky which he swallowed 
 revived him in the most amazing way. 
 
 " Have they gone ? " he asked. 
 
 " If you mean the soldiers," said Bland, " they have. 
 I can't imagine why, but they have." 
 
 " I telegraphed to the Prime Minister," said Clither- 
 ing. " It was hours and hours ago. Or was it yester- 
 day? It was just before I saw the woman shot. I told 
 him that that the soldiers they were only meant to 
 overawe the people not to kill them I said the sol- 
 diers must be withdrawn to barracks I said they 
 must not be allowed " 
 
 I do not know whether it was exhaustion after 
 nervous strain or the whisky which affected Clithering.
 
 232 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 Whisky and he had swallowed nearly a glassful 
 does produce striking effects upon teetotallers ; so it 
 may have been the whisky. Clithering turned slowly 
 over on his side and went sound asleep. Bland and I 
 carried him upstairs to a bedroom on the top storey of 
 the club. There were, Bland said, three bullets buried 
 in the mattress, so it was fortunate that we had not 
 carried Clithering up earlier in the day. 
 
 " Let's get the waiter," said Bland, " if he hasn't 
 gone away, and tell him to undress this fool ! " 
 
 " It's hardly necessary to undress him, is it ? " 
 
 " Better to," said Bland, " and take away his clothes. 
 Then he'll have to stay there, and won't be able to send 
 any more telegrams." 
 
 " It's rather a good thing he sent that last one," I said. 
 " If he hadn't, somebody would certainly have been 
 killed in the charge." 
 
 " I suppose that telegram accounts for it," said 
 Bland. " I mean for the behaviour of the soldiers. 
 Orders sent straight from Downing Street. I say, 
 what a frightful temper the Commanding Officer must 
 be in this minute ! I wonder if I could get an interview 
 with him." 
 
 He looked questioningly at me. I fancy he hoped 
 that I would give him a letter of introduction to the 
 General in command of the district. 
 
 " His language," said Bland, " would be a tremen- 
 dous scoop for me. Could you ? " 
 
 " No," I said, " I couldn't. I don't know him, and 
 even if I did " 
 
 " Oh, well," said Bland, " it can't be helped. And, 
 any way, I dare say I shouldn't have been able to get my 
 telegram through. The wires are sure to be blocked."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 I LOOKED at my watch and found that it was 
 three o'clock. The battle had lasted more than 
 two hours. 
 
 " I had no idea," I said to Bland, " that fighting was 
 such interesting work. The time has flown." 
 
 " I'm uncommonly hungry," said Bland. " Let's 
 try and find something to eat." 
 
 When he mentioned the subject of eating I found 
 that I too was very hungry. I felt, however, that it 
 was scarcely right, certainly it was not suitable to sit 
 down to luncheon in a club while a revolution was in 
 full swing under the windows. People ought to be 
 serious immediately after battles. 
 
 "Oughtn't we to be doing something?" I asked. 
 
 "Doing what?" 
 
 " Well, I don't know. Seeing after the wounded, 
 perhaps." 
 
 Attending to wounded men is properly speaking 
 work for women; but both Lady Moyne and Marion 
 were in London. 
 
 " There are sure to be a few somewhere," I said. 
 " They've been fighting all over the town, and I don't 
 suppose the soldiers were as careful everywhere else 
 as they were here." 
 
 " Are you a surgeon as well as a lord ? " asked 
 Bland. 
 
 " Oh no. I don't know anything about surgery. 
 My idea " 
 
 233
 
 234 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " Then I expect the wounded, if there are any, would 
 rather you left them alone. Besides, a town like this 
 must have hundreds of doctors in it. They'll all be 
 out after the wounded by this time as keen as vul- 
 tures. It isn't every day that an ordinary practitioner 
 gets the chance of gouging out bullets. They wouldn't 
 let you interfere with their sport even if you paid them. 
 There won't, as a matter of fact, be nearly enough 
 wounded to go round the profession. They'd hate to 
 have an amateur chipping in. Let's forage about a bit 
 and get some food." 
 
 It was not very easy to find food in the club, and the 
 only surviving waiter was still undressing Clithering. 
 But Bland is a good forager. He found two dressed 
 crabs somewhere, and then came upon a game pie. I 
 let him have the dressed crabs all to himself. He is a 
 much younger man than I am and is a war corre- 
 spondent. He ought to be able to digest anything. 
 
 I fully intended to eat three helpings of game pie, 
 for I was very hungry; but before I had finished the 
 first of them I was interrupted. Crossan stalked into 
 the room. He was the last man I wanted to see. His 
 appearance and manner are, at the best of times, tragic. 
 Clithering had been with me, off and on, most of the 
 day, so I had got rather tired of tragedy. 
 
 " I think it right to inform your lordship," said 
 Crossan, " that Mr. Godfrey D'Aubigny has just been 
 arrested in the streets." 
 
 " Good ! " I said. " I hope that whoever has him 
 won't let him go." 
 
 " He's to be tried by court martial," said Crossan, 
 " on suspicion of being a spy." 
 
 Godfrey actually haunts me. No sooner have I
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 235 
 
 achieved a moment's peace and quietness with the 
 greatest difficulty in the middle of a rebellion than 
 Godfrey breaks in on me. How he came to be in Bel- 
 fast I could only dimly guess. It seemed likely that, 
 having heard that a battle was going on, he came to 
 the scene of it in the hope of pillage. 
 
 " I suppose," I said, " they won't actually hang 
 him?" 
 
 " It was him, as your lordship is aware," said 
 Crossan, " that gave the first information to the Gov- 
 ernment." 
 
 Crossan, in spite of the fact that he was a victorious 
 general, preserved his peculiar kind of respect for my 
 title. He did not, indeed, take off his hat when he en- 
 tered the room, but that was only because soldiers, 
 while on duty, never take off their hats. 
 
 " Don't be absurd, Crossan," I said. " You know 
 perfectly well that he hasn't intelligence enough to give 
 anything but wrong information to any Government. 
 What he told the Chancellor of the Exchequer when he 
 wrote to him was that you were smuggling." 
 
 "If your lordship doesn't care to interfere ," said 
 Crossan. 
 
 " Can I help in any way ? " said Bland. 
 
 He had been eating steadily and had finished the two 
 crabs. I had not eaten more than three or four mouth- 
 fuls of game pie. I felt I might accept his offer. 
 
 "If you've any experience of courts martial," I said, 
 " I haven't and if you really don't mind trotting 
 off" 
 
 " Not a bit," said Bland. " In fact a court martial 
 would be rather a scoop for me. I'm sure the public 
 would want to know how it's run."
 
 236 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " I shall feel greatly obliged to you," I said. " The 
 fact is that a nephew of mine is going to be hanged as a 
 spy. You said you were going to hang him, didn't you, 
 Crossan ? " 
 
 " I think it likely, my lord," said Crossan. 
 
 " Of course," I said, " he richly deserves it ; and so 
 far as my own personal feelings go I should be very 
 glad if he were hanged. But, of course, he's my 
 nephew and people might think I'd been unkind to him 
 if I made no effort to save him. One must consider 
 public opinion more or less. So if you could arrange 
 to rescue him " 
 
 While I was speaking Clithering shambled into the 
 room. He was wearing a suit of pyjamas not nearly 
 big enough for him. The waiter who put him to bed 
 was quite a small man. The pyjamas must have been 
 his. He asked us to find his clothes for him, and said 
 that he wanted to go to the post-office. 
 
 " I must send a telegram to the Prime Minister," he 
 said. " I must send it at once." 
 
 Crossan eyed him very suspiciously. 
 
 " It strikes me," said Bland, " that if you're caught 
 sending telegrams to the Prime Minister you'll be 
 hanged too." 
 
 " They're just going to hang a nephew of mine," I 
 explained, " for writing a letter to the Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer. You can see for yourself that a tele- 
 gram to the Prime Minister is much worse. I really 
 think you'd better stay where you are." 
 
 But Clithering was, unfortunately, in a mood of hys- 
 terical heroism. He said that he did not value his life, 
 that lives were only given to men in order that they
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 237 
 
 might lay them down, and that the noblest way of lay- 
 ing down a life was in the service of humanity. 
 
 I could see that Crossan was getting more and more 
 suspicious every minute. 
 
 " It is in order to save the lives of others," he said, 
 " that I want to send my telegram to the Prime Minis- 
 ter." 
 
 Crossan actually scowled at Clithering. I expected 
 that he would arrest him at once. There might have 
 been, for all I knew, a Committee of Public Safety 
 sitting in the Town Hall. I could imagine Crossan 
 hauling the unfortunate Clithering before it on a charge 
 of communicating with the Prime Minister. I could 
 imagine Clithering, heroic to the last, waving his in- 
 criminating telegram in the faces of his judges. Bland 
 saved the situation. 
 
 " Come along, Colonel," he said. " Show me where 
 that court martial of yours is sitting. Lord Kilmore 
 will restrain this lunatic till we get back." 
 
 Crossan may have been pleased at being addressed 
 as Colonel. Or he may have trusted that I would pre- 
 vent any telegram being sent to the Prime Minister. 
 At all events, he stopped scowling at Clithering and 
 went off with Bland. I offered Clithering some of the 
 game pie, but he refused to touch it. He sat down at 
 a corner of the table and asked me to lend him a pencil 
 and some paper. I did so, and he composed several 
 long telegrams. The writing evidently soothed him. 
 When he had finished he asked me quite calmly whether 
 I thought he would really be hanged if he went to the 
 post-office. I was not at all sure that he would not. 
 Clithering sighed when he heard my opinion. Then
 
 238 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 he sat silent for a long time, evidently trying to make 
 up his mind to the hanging. 
 
 " If I could get the telegram through first," he said 
 at last, " I shouldn't so much mind " 
 
 " But you wouldn't," I said ; " and what is the good 
 of throwing away your life without accomplishing any- 
 thing?" 
 
 " It's terrible," said Clithering, " terrible." 
 
 It was terrible, of course ; but I was beginning to get 
 tired of Clithering. Besides, he looked very ridicu- 
 lous in pyjamas which only reached halfway down his 
 legs and arms. 
 
 "Don't you think," I said, "that it would be 
 better for you to go back to bed? You'll be safe 
 there, and it won't really matter much whether your 
 telegram goes to the Prime Minister or not. A little 
 sleep will do you all the good in the world." 
 
 " We have murdered sleep," said Clithering. 
 
 I never realized the full immensity of Clithering's 
 fatuousness until he uttered that mangled quotation 
 from Macbeth in the tone of an old-fashioned tragedian. 
 I believe the man actually revelled in harrowing emo- 
 tion. It would not have surprised me to hear him 
 assure me that the " multitudinous seas " would not 
 wash out the blood-stains from his hands. He might 
 very well have asked for " some sweet oblivious anti- 
 dote." If he had known the passages I am sure he 
 would have quoted them. 
 
 " Do go to bed," I said. 
 
 Then Bland came in leading Godfrey with him. 
 
 " I rescued him," said Bland, " without very much 
 difficulty."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 239 
 
 " I call it frightful cheek," said Godfrey, " fellows 
 like that who ought to be touching their hats to me 
 and saying ' Sir ' when they speak to me Fancy 
 them daring " 
 
 This view of the matter was very characteristic of 
 Godfrey. I really believe that he would dislike being 
 hanged much less if the executioner were one of the 
 small class of men whom he recognizes as his social 
 equals. 
 
 " They gave him quite a fair trial," said Bland, " and 
 had just condemned him when " 
 
 " That fellow Crossan in particular," said Godfrey. 
 
 " The Colonel ran round to tell you," said Bland. " I 
 rather fancy they wanted to get off carrying out the sen- 
 tence if they could." 
 
 " A lot of fellows," said Godfrey sulkily, " who ought 
 to be wheeeling barrows! But it's very largely your 
 fault, Excellency. You always encouraged that class. 
 If you'd kept them in their proper places " 
 
 " What on earth brought you to Belfast ? " I said. 
 "Why didn't you stay at home? Nobody wants you 
 here. Why did you come ? " 
 
 Godfrey looked uneasily at Bland. He evidently did 
 not want to make his reason for coming to Belfast 
 public property. Godfrey is usually quite shameless. 
 I could only imagine that he had done something of a 
 peculiarly repulsive kind. 
 
 "Well," I said, "why did you come?" 
 
 He looked at Bland again, and then nodded sideways 
 at me. 
 
 " I suppose," I said, " that you thought there might 
 be some assessment made by the Government of the
 
 240 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 amount of damage done in the town, and that if you 
 started valuing things at once on your own hook, you 
 might possibly get a job out of it." 
 
 " But is there ? " said Godfrey eagerly ; " for if there 
 is" 
 
 " So far as I know there isn't," I said. 
 
 " Anyhow it wasn't that which brought me to Bel- 
 fast. The fact is, Excellency, I couldn't very well stay 
 at home. You remember," here his voice sunk to a 
 whisper " what I told you about the Pringles." 
 
 " Your bank account ? " 
 
 "No. Not that. The girl, I mean. Tottie Prin- 
 gle." 
 
 " Oh yes, I remember." 
 
 " Well, old Pringle began to get offensive. He 
 seemed to think that I ought to you know." 
 
 " Marry her ? I expect you ought." 
 
 "Excellency?" said Godfrey in genuine horror and 
 amazement, 
 
 " By the way," said Bland, " I forgot to mention that 
 I promised the court martial to get your nephew out 
 of Belfast before to-morrow morning. I hope you don't 
 mind. They wouldn't let him go on any other condi- 
 tion." 
 
 "Quite right," I said. "Godfrey shall start to- 
 night." 
 
 " I don't see why I should," said Godfrey. " I don't 
 think it's at all nice of you, Excellency, to " 
 
 " And while we're at it," I said, " we may as well 
 ship off dithering. Godfrey let me introduce you 
 to" 
 
 I looked round and discovered that dithering was not 
 in the room.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 241 
 
 " I hope to goodness," I said, " that he's not gone 
 out to get himself hanged. He rather wanted to a few 
 minutes ago." 
 
 " It's all right," said Bland. " I saw him going up- 
 stairs. I expect he's looking for his clothes." 
 
 " Godfrey," I said. " I'm going to offer you a great 
 chance. Sir Samuel dithering is in every way a very 
 big man. In the first place he's very rich. In the next 
 place he's on intimate terms with the Prime Minister. 
 In fact he's been sending him telegrams every hour or 
 so for the last two days. You go upstairs and help him 
 to find his clothes. Then take him over to London. 
 The Fleetwood steamer is still running. If you can 
 get him out of Belfast and lay him down safe and 
 sound on his own doorstep the Government will be so 
 grateful that they'll very likely make you a stipendiary 
 magistrate." 
 
 " But supposing he doesn't want to go? " 
 
 " You'll have to make him," I said. 
 
 " How ? " said Godfrey. " How can I ? " 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Godfrey," I said. " Nag at him. 
 You've got more than two hours before you, and nag- 
 ging is a thing you're really good at." 
 
 Bland took Godfrey by the arm and led him up to 
 Clithering's bedroom. He locked them in together, and 
 did not open the door again until half an hour before 
 the steamer started. Then he took up Clithering's 
 clothes to him. Godfrey had evidently spent the time 
 as I advised, dithering deserved it, of course ; but he 
 certainly looked as if he had been through a bad time 
 when Bland let him out. 
 
 There was a meeting of the Ulster Defence Commit- 
 tee at seven o'clock. It was summoned, so the notice
 
 242 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 which I received informed me, in order to make ar- 
 rangements for preserving the peace of the town. 
 This, I thought, was very proper work for the com- 
 mittee. The Cabinet was probably making other ar- 
 rangements with the same object. Between them the 
 committee and the Government had destroyed what lit- 
 tle peace Belfast ever had. The least they could do was 
 to restore it. 
 
 Moyne took the chair as usual. He opened our pro- 
 ceedings by saying firmly and decisively, that he in- 
 tended to surrender himself at once to the authorities. 
 
 " We're the only authorities there are at present," said 
 McNeice, " so if you want to surrender 
 
 " We must resolve ourselves into a Provisional Gov- 
 ernment," said the Dean, who always likes to do things 
 constitutionally. 
 
 " The police," said Moyne feebly. 
 
 " There aren't any," said McNeice. 
 
 " Wiped out," said Malcolmson. 
 
 " The General in command of the troops " said 
 Moyne. 
 
 " The troops are shut up in their barracks," said Mc- 
 Neice. 
 
 " Licked," said Malcolmson. 
 
 " Say," said Conroy, " are you dead sure you whipped 
 them?" 
 
 " They bolted," said Malcolmson. 
 
 " I don't reckon to be a military expert," said Con- 
 roy, " but it kind of occurs to me that those troops 
 weren't doing all they knew. I don't say but you're 
 quite right to boost your men all you can ; but we'll 
 make a big mistake if we start figuring on having de- 
 feated the British army."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 243 
 
 " I happen to know," I said, " that Mr. Conroy is 
 quite right, dithering " 
 
 " That spaniel ! " said McNeice. 
 
 " He told me," I said, " that the troops had orders to 
 fire over our men's heads. The idea, I think, was not 
 so much to injure as to overawe us." 
 
 " It was a damned foolish idea," said McNeice sulk- 
 ily. 
 
 " You cannot," said the Dean, " overawe the men of 
 Ulster." 
 
 This is one of the Dean's most cherished opinions. 
 I have heard him express it a great many times. I 
 do not know whether the Dean had actually been fight- 
 ing during the afternoon. I am sure he wanted to; 
 but he may have considered it his duty to do no more 
 than look on. Our Dean is particularly strong on Old 
 Testament history. I am sure he recollected that Moses 
 sat on the top of an adjacent hill while Joshua was fight- 
 ing the Amalekites. 
 
 "If you want to surrender yourself," said Conroy 
 to Moyne, " I reckon you'll have the chance of handing 
 yourself over to a British Admiral before long." 
 
 " Have you any reason to suppose that the Fleet ? " 
 said Moyne. 
 
 " We're ready for them," said Malcolmson. " If the 
 Government thinks it can force Home Rule on Ulster 
 with the guns of the Channel Fleet, it's making a big 
 mistake. It'll find that out before long." 
 
 " If you like, Lord Moyne," said Conroy, " we'll put 
 you under arrest and then nobody will be able to hold 
 you responsible afterwards for anything that happens. 
 You'll be quite safe." 
 
 Whatever Moyne's motives may have been in wish-
 
 244 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 ing to surrender himself, I am perfectly sure that a 
 desire for his own safety was not one of them. I 
 imagine that he hoped, in a confused and troubled way, 
 to get himself somehow on the side of law and order 
 again. Moyne was never meant to be a rebel. 
 
 Conroy's words were insulting, intentionally so, I 
 think. He wished to get rid of Moyne before the com- 
 mittee discussed the defence of Belfast against the 
 Fleet. He may have wished to get rid of me too. He 
 succeeded. Moyne is not nearly so thorough-going a 
 patrician as his wife; but he has sufficient class pride 
 to dislike being insulted by a millionaire. He got up 
 and left the room. He looked so lonely in his dignified 
 retirement that I felt I ought to give him such support 
 as I could. I rose too, took his arm, and went out with 
 him.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 PEOPLE who organize and carry through revolu- 
 tions generally begin by cutting the telegraph 
 wires, with a view to isolating the scene of action. I 
 cannot help thinking that this is a mistake. We kept 
 our telegraph offices open day and night, and I am 
 strongly of opinion that we gained rather than lost 
 by our departure from the established ritual of revolu- 
 tions. The news which came to us from England was 
 often encouraging, and generally of some value. Nor 
 do I think that the Government gained any advantage 
 over us by the messages which Clithering as their agent, 
 or Bland and others in their capacity of public enter- 
 tainers, sent from Belfast to London. 
 
 When Moyne and I got back to our hotel we found 
 two long telegrams and one short one waiting for us. 
 The first we opened was from Lady Moyne. She had, 
 it appeared, spent a very strenuous day. She caught 
 the Prime Minister at breakfast in his own house, and 
 probably spoiled his appetite. She ran other members 
 of the Cabinet to earth at various times during the day. 
 One unfortunate man she found playing a mixed four- 
 some on a suburban golf links. She impressed upon 
 him, as she had upon all his colleagues the appalling 
 wickedness of shooting the citizens of Belfast. Every 
 one, it appeared, agreed with her on this point. The 
 Government's policy, so they told her and she told us, 
 was to cow, riot to kill, the misguided people who were 
 
 245
 
 246 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 rioting in Belfast. She besought Moyne to use all his 
 influence to moderate the anti-Home Rule enthusiasm 
 of Malcolmson and the Dean. 
 
 Moyne smiled in a sickly way when we came to this 
 advice. 
 
 The other long telegram was from Babberly. I must 
 say that Babberly at this crisis displayed immense en- 
 ergy and something like political genius. Having been 
 all his life a strong Conservative, and a supporter of 
 force as a remedy for every kind of social unpleasant- 
 ness, he turned a most effective somersault and ap- 
 pealed suddenly to the anti-militarist feelings of the 
 Labour Party. He succeeded I cannot even imagine 
 how in organizing a mass meeting in Trafalgar 
 Square to protest against the murder of the working- 
 men of Belfast in the streets of their own city, by the 
 hired mercenaries of the capitalist classes. The meet- 
 ing was actually engaged in making its protest while 
 Moyne and I were reading the telegrams. Babberly's 
 case was really extraordinarily strong. Soldiers were 
 shooting off guns in Belfast, and the people they fired 
 at or as we knew, fired over were working-men. 
 There was occasion for a strong and eloquent appeal 
 to the sentiment of the solidarity of labour. Babberly 
 was just the man to make it with the utmost possible 
 effectiveness. I pictured him perched on the head of 
 one of the British lions which give its quite peculiar 
 dignity to Trafalgar Square, beseeching a crowd of 
 confused but very angry men not to allow the beast 
 to open its mouth or show its teeth. I could easily 
 imagine that the news of Babberly's exertions, drib- 
 bling in during the day to the offices of harassed Min- 
 isters, might have reinforced with grave political con-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 247 
 
 siderations the hysterical humanitarian telegrams which 
 Clithering was shooting off from the seat of war. A 
 Tory Government might survive a little bloodshed. A 
 Liberal Government convicted of having incited a sol- 
 dier to shoot a working-man would be in a perilous po- 
 sition. 
 
 " I must say," I said, " that Babberly is infernally 
 clever. I don't quite know where he'll find himself 
 afterwards, but 
 
 " What does it matter about afterwards ? " said 
 Moyne, " if only we get out of the mess we're in, noth- 
 ing that happens afterwards need trouble us in the 
 least." 
 
 " If this meeting of his is really a success," I said, 
 " we may feel pretty confident that there'll be no more 
 shooting anyhow." 
 
 The next telegram, the short one, rather dashed our 
 hopes of immediate peace. It was from Lady Moyne. 
 
 " The Channel Fleet," she said, " has been ordered 
 to Belfast Lough. Expected to arrive to-morrow morn- 
 ing. Advise unconditional surrender." 
 
 Moyne is very fond of his wife, and has a sincere ad- 
 miration for her abilities ; but on the receipt of this tele- 
 gram he lost his temper. 
 
 " What on earth," he said, " is the use of advising un- 
 conditional surrender when Conroy and Malcolmson are 
 engaged at this moment in making plans for sinking the 
 Fleet with rifles?" 
 
 " I quite agree with you," I said. " There's no kind 
 of use our going to them again. But I don't expect 
 they're relying entirely on rifles. Malcolmson always 
 said he understood explosives. He may be laying sub- 
 marine mines opposite Carrickfergus."
 
 248 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 Lady Moyne's telegram was not the only warning we 
 received of the approaching visit of the Channel Fleet. 
 Our system of leaving the telegraph wires intact proved 
 to be an excellent one. Everybody in Belfast learnt that 
 the Fleet was coming. Everybody, so far as I could 
 learn, received the news with joy. Bland was tremend- 
 ously excited. He called on me next morning, and in- 
 vited me to go with him to see the British Fleet in action. 
 He had been up very early and found a place, so he said, 
 from which we could have a capital view of the bom- 
 bardment of the town. 
 
 " I've got two pairs of field-glasses," he said, " Zeiss 
 prism binoculars. We'll see the whole show capitally." 
 
 " Was there much other looting last night ? " I asked. 
 
 " There was none," said Bland. " I hired the glasses. 
 I got them for five shillings. Cheap, I call it; but the 
 optician who owned them seemed to think they'd be 
 safer if I had them than they would be in his shop. 
 More out of the way of shells, I expect." 
 
 Moyne refused to come with us. He still cherished 
 the hope of being able to surrender himself during the 
 day to some one in recognizable authority. Bland and 
 I set out together. 
 
 We hurried along High Street, past the Albert Me- 
 morial and crossed the bridge to the south side of the 
 river. The streets were full of volunteers, marching 
 about, all in the highest spirits. The prospect of being 
 shelled by the Fleet did not frighten them in the least. 
 Having, as they believed, defeated the Army the day 
 before, it seemed quite a simple matter to deal with the 
 battleships. 
 
 We made our way along the quays, passed through 
 a ship-building yard, deserted by its workers, and came
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 249 
 
 to a long muddy embankment which stretched out on 
 the south side of the channel leading into the harbour. 
 On the end of this embankment was a small wooden 
 lighthouse. 
 
 " That's our spot," said Bland. " I've got the key of 
 the door." 
 
 I will always say for Bland that he has the true in- 
 stinct of a war correspondent. From the top of our 
 tower we saw the Fleet far out in the offing. There 
 were not nearly so many ships as I expected. I 
 counted seven; disagreeable looking monsters with 
 smoke pouring out of their funnels. They were too 
 far off for us to see much of them even with the aid 
 of our excellent glasses; but what I did see I did not 
 like. Fighting against men requires courage, no doubt, 
 especially when they have magazine rifles. But men 
 are after all flesh and blood. Fighting against vast 
 iron machines seems to me a much more terrifying 
 thing. I wondered whether Malcolmson were also 
 watching the ships and whether he were any more in- 
 clined than he had been the night before to uncondi- 
 tional surrender. 
 
 While I was gazing out to sea, Bland tapped me on 
 the arm and drew my attention to the fact that a com- 
 pany of volunteers was marching out along our muddy 
 causeway. They were Bob Power's men and they 
 came along whistling " The Protestant Boys," a tune 
 which makes an excellent quick-step march. They had 
 spades with them as well as rifles, and they set to work 
 at once to entrench themselves. 
 
 " They're going to dispute a landing," said Bland, 
 " but I don't see what use that is. The Fleet can shell 
 the whole place into ruins in two hours without com-
 
 250 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 ing within range of their rifles and however we'll 
 see. The fellow who's running this revolution Con- 
 roy, isn't it? may have something up his sleeve." 
 
 One of the battleships detached herself from her 
 fellows and steamed rapidly into the Lough. Oppo- 
 site Carrickfergus her engines were stopped, and she 
 turned slowly in a half circle till she lay broadside on 
 to us. I could see her distinctly, and I confess that the 
 look of her terrified me. 
 
 " Geared for action," said Bland. 
 
 A boat was lowered, a steam launch. In a minute or 
 two she was speeding towards us, her white ensign trail- 
 ing astern. Bob Power stood up outside his entrench- 
 ment and peered at her. As she drew closer we could see 
 behind the shelter hood, the young officer who steered 
 her. As she swerved this way and that, following the 
 windings of the channel, we caught glimpses of a senior 
 officer, seated in the stern sheets. Pushing through the 
 calm water at high speed she threw up great waves 
 from her bows. Her stern seemed curiously deep in 
 the water. When she was almost abreast of our light- 
 house Bob hailed her. Her engines were stopped at 
 once. A sailor with a boathook in his hand sprang 
 into her bow and stood there motionless while the 
 boat glided on. I could see the young officer who 
 steered gazing curiously at Bob's entrenchments. Then 
 the senior officer stood up. 
 
 " An Admiral," said Bland. 
 
 He hailed Bob. 
 
 " Are you in command here? " he said. 
 
 As he spoke the launch stopped abreast of the en- 
 trenchments and lay motionless in the water.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 251 
 
 " I am in command of this detachment," said Bob. 
 
 " Then," said the Admiral, " you are to lay down 
 your arms at once." 
 
 " You'd better come ashore," said Bob, " and see 
 our commanding officer if you want to make terms 
 with us." 
 
 The Admiral flushed. He was quite close to us and 
 we could see his face distinctly. He looked as if he 
 wanted to say something explosive. The idea of being 
 invited to make terms with rebels was evidently very 
 objectionable to him. I suppose he must have had 
 strict and binding orders from somebody. He did not 
 say any of the things he wanted to. The launch's pro- 
 peller gave a few turns in the water. Then the boat 
 slipped up to the shore. The sailor with the boat- 
 hook held her fast while the Admiral stepped out of 
 her. Bob received him most courteously. The Ad- 
 miral glared at Bob. The riflemen, crouched behind 
 their mud bank, scowled at the Admiral. The young 
 officer in the launch gave an order and his boat was 
 pushed off from the shore. Bob and the Admiral 
 walked off together towards the town. 
 
 For an hour and a half the launch lay opposite us in 
 the middle of the channel. Occasionally, as the ebbing 
 tide carried her down, she steamed a little and regained 
 her position opposite the entrenchments. Bob's men, 
 realizing that there would be no shooting till the Ad- 
 miral returned, rose from their trench. They strolled 
 about the embankment, chatted, smoked, stared at the 
 launch, stared at the battleship from which she came, 
 and peered at the more distant fleet which lay hull down 
 far out towards the entrance of the lough.
 
 252 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " Unless Mr. Conroy has some game on that we know 
 nothing about," said Bland, " he'd better climb down 
 and make the best terms he can." 
 
 I think that Bland was nervous. He made that re- 
 mark or others like it several times while we were wait- 
 ing for the Admiral's return. I candidly confess that 
 I was more than nervous. I was desperately fright- 
 ened. I am not, I hope, a coward. I believe that I was 
 not afraid of being killed, but I could not take my eyes 
 off the great iron ship which lay motionless, without 
 a sign of life about her, a black, menacing monster on 
 the calm water of the lough. I was seized, obsessed, 
 with a sense of her immense power. She would de- 
 stroy and slay with a horrible, unemotional, scientific 
 deliberation. 
 
 " Conroy had better surrender," said Bland. " He 
 can't expect 
 
 " He won't surrender," I said ; " and if he wanted to, 
 the men would not let him." 
 
 " Damn it," said Bland. " He must. I've seen war, 
 and I tell you he must." 
 
 At last the Admiral returned. Bob was with him, 
 and was evidently trying to make himself agreeable. 
 He was chatting. Occasionally he laughed. The Ad- 
 miral was entirely unresponsive. When he got close 
 enough for us to see his face I saw that he looked per- 
 plexed and miserable. I was miserable and frightened, 
 but the Admiral looked worse. 
 
 Behind them there was an immense crowd of peo- 
 ple; men, armed and unarmed, women, even children. 
 It was a mere mob. There was no sign of discipline 
 among them. Some young girls, mill-workers with 
 shawls over their heads, pressed close on the Admiral's
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 253 
 
 heels. Bob gave an order to his men, and they drew up 
 across the end of our embankment. Bob and the Ad- 
 miral passed through the line. The crowd stopped. 
 
 The launch drew to shore again. The Admiral 
 stepped on board her, and she steamed away. 
 
 The crowd hung around the end of our embankment. 
 Some children began chasing each other in and out 
 among the men and women. A few girls went down to 
 the water's edge and threw in stones, laughing at the 
 splashes they made. Then a young man found an 
 empty bottle and flung it far out into the channel. 
 Fifty or sixty men and women threw stones at it, laugh- 
 ing when shots went wide, cheering when some well- 
 aimed stone set the bottle rocking. Further back from 
 the water's edge young men and girls were romping 
 with each other, the girls crying shrilly and laughing 
 boisterously, the men catching them round their waists 
 or by their arms. It might have been a crowd out for 
 enjoyment of a Bank Holiday. 
 
 The launch reached the battleship, was hoisted and 
 stowed on board. Almost immediately a long line of 
 signal flags fluttered from the squat mast. Smoke be- 
 gan to pour from the funnels. The flags were hauled 
 down and another festoon of them was hoisted in their 
 place. I could see an answering stream of flags flut- 
 tering from one of the ships further out. 
 
 Then, very slowly, the great steamer began to move. 
 She went at a snail's pace, as it seemed to me, across 
 the lough to the County Down coast. Very slowly she 
 swept round in a wide circle and steamed back again 
 northward. There was something terrifying in the 
 stately deliberation with which she moved. It was as 
 if some great beast of prey paced as a sentinel in front
 
 254 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 of his victim, so conscious of his power to seize and kill 
 that he could afford to wait before he sprang. 
 
 The crowd behind us was silent now. The laughter 
 and the play had ceased. Children were crowding 
 round the women seeking for hands to hold. Some of 
 the women, vaguely terror-stricken, looked into the 
 faces of the men. Others had drawn a little apart 
 from the rest of the crowd and stood in a group by 
 themselves, staring out at the battleship. There were 
 middle-aged women and quite young women in this 
 group. I raised my field-glasses and scanned their 
 faces. There was one expression on them, and only 
 one not fear, but hatred. Women fight sometimes 
 in citizen armies when such things have been called 
 into existence. But it is not their fighting power which 
 makes them important. That is, probably, always 
 quite inconsiderable. What makes them a force to be 
 reckoned with in war is their faculty for hating. They 
 hate with more concentration and intensity than men 
 do. These women were mindful, perhaps, of the girl 
 with the baby whom dithering had seen shot. They 
 realized, perhaps, the menace for husbands, lovers, and 
 sons which lay in the guns of the black ironclad pa- 
 rading sluggishly before their eyes. Remembering and 
 anticipating death, they hated the source of it with 
 uncompromising bitterness. The men in the crowd 
 seemed crushed into silence by mere wonder and ex- 
 pectation of some unknown thing. They were not, so 
 far as I could judge, afraid. They were not excited. 
 They simply waited to see what was to happen to them 
 and their town. 
 
 Once more a string of flags fluttered from the ship's 
 mast. Once more the answer came from her consorts.
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 255 
 
 Then for the third time she swept round. We saw her 
 foreshortened ; then end on ; then foreshortened again 
 as her other side swung into view. At that moment 
 just before the whole length of her lay flat before 
 our eyes she fired. At first I scarcely realized that she 
 had fired. There was a small cloud of white smoke 
 hanging over her near the bow. That was all for the 
 moment. Then came the horrible sound of the great 
 projectile racing through the air. Then it was past. 
 
 Some women in the crowd, a few, shrieked aloud. 
 Some girls ran wildly towards the town, driven, I sup- 
 pose, to seek shelter of some kind. Most of the crowd 
 stood silent' Then from some young men who stood 
 together there came a kind of moaning sound. It gath- 
 ered volume. It, as it were, took shape. Voice after 
 voice took it up. The whole crowd many hundreds 
 of men and women sang together the hymn they had 
 all been singing for months past, " O God, our help in 
 ages past." I do not know how far back towards the 
 town the singing spread, but it would not surprise me 
 to hear that ten thousand voices joined in it. 
 
 Bland had his glasses raised. He was still gazing at 
 the battleship. 
 
 " A strange answer," I said, " to make to the first shell 
 of a bombardment." 
 
 " Yes," said Bland. " It reminds me of a profane 
 rhyme which I used to hear: 
 
 " ' There was a young lady of Zion 
 
 Who sang Sunday-school songs to a lion.' 
 
 But hers, I should say, was the more sensible proceed- 
 ing of the two." 
 
 I was not sure. It is just conceivable it seemed
 
 256 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 to me at that moment even likely that a hymn, sung 
 as that one was, may be the most effective answer to 
 a big gun. There are only certain things which guns 
 can do. When they have destroyed life and ruined 
 buildings their power is spent. But the singing of 
 hymns may, and sometimes does, render men for a 
 time at least, indifferent to the loss of their lives and 
 the ruin of their houses. Against men in the frame 
 of mind which hymn-singing induces the biggest guns 
 are powerless. The original singers fall, perhaps, but 
 the spirit of their singing survives. For each voice 
 silenced by the bursting shells ten voices take up the 
 song. 
 
 The battleship, after firing the gun, swung round 
 and once more slowly steamed across the lough. I 
 waited, tense with excitement, for her to turn again. 
 At the next turn, I felt sure, another shell would come. 
 I was wrong. She turned, more slowly than ever as 
 it seemed. No white smoke issued from her. Again 
 she steamed northwards. Again, opposite Carrickfer- 
 gus, close to the northern shore, she turned. Right in 
 front of her bows the water was suddenly broken. It 
 was as if some one had dropped a huge stone close to 
 her. The spray of the splash must have fallen on her 
 fore deck. 
 
 "My God!" said Bland, "they're firing at her. 
 Look ! From the hill above the town." 
 
 I could not look. My eyes were on the ship as she 
 slowly turned. Her side came gradually into view. 
 Then, quite suddenly and for no apparent reason, she 
 staggered. I saw her list over heavily, right herself 
 again, and steam on. 
 
 " Hit ! " said Bland. " Hit ! Hit ! "
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 257 
 
 He danced beside me with excitement. 
 
 Two puffs of smoke hung over the ship's decks, one 
 forward, one aft, and blew clear again. But this time 
 we heard no shrieking shells. She was firing, not at 
 the town, but at the guns on the hill which threatened 
 and wounded her. Then her signal flags ran up again. 
 Before the answer came from the other ships the sea 
 was broken twice close to her. I looked to see her 
 stagger from another blow, heel over, perhaps sink. 
 Her speed increased. In a minute she was rushing to- 
 wards us, flinging white waves from her great bows. 
 Then she swept round once more. Fire as well as 
 smoke poured from her funnels. She steamed east- 
 wards down the lough. We saw her join the other 
 ships far out. She and they lay motionless together. 
 
 The crowd behind us began to sing their hymn 
 again. 
 
 Bland and I left our lighthouse and went back to- 
 wards the town. We passed Bob and his men in their 
 trench but they scarcely noticed us. We pushed our 
 way through the crowd. We passed the ship-building 
 yard, now full of eager people, discussing the departure 
 of the ship, canvassing the possibility of her coming 
 back again. 
 
 " What guns have they on the Cave Hill ? " said Bland. 
 
 " I don't know," I said. " I did not know that they 
 had any guns." 
 
 " I wonder where they got them," said Bland. " I 
 wonder who has command of them." 
 
 I could answer, or thought I could answer, both ques- 
 tions. As we struggled through the crowds which 
 thronged the quay I told Bland of the visits of the 
 Finola to our bay and of the piles of huge packing-
 
 258 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 cases which Godfrey had shown me in the sheds behind 
 the store. 
 
 "But who fired them?" said Bland. "Who have 
 you got who understands them? Those were big 
 guns." 
 
 " Malcolmson," I said, " always said he understood 
 guns." 
 
 " He does," said Bland. " If he'd shot just the least 
 shade better he'd have sunk that ship." 
 
 On the bridge we met McConkey, sweating pro- 
 fusely, taking his favourite weapon along at a rapid 
 trot. He stopped when he saw us and halted his breath- 
 less team. 
 
 " I have her working again," he said, " and she'll 
 shoot the now." 
 
 " You're too late," said Bland. 
 
 " Is she sunken ? " said McConkey. " Man o' man 
 but I'm sorry for it. I wanted sore to have a shot at 
 her." 
 
 " She's not sunk," said Bland, " but she's gone. 
 Steamed clean out of range of your gun." 
 
 " I'd have liked well to have got to her before she 
 quit," said McConkey. " Did you hear tell what she 
 did with that shell she fired into the town ? " 
 
 " No," I said. " Did it kill many people? " 
 
 " Sorra the one," said McConkey. " But I'll tell you 
 what it did do." His voice sank to a hoarse but singu- 
 larly impressive whisper. " It made flitters of the statue 
 of the old Queen that was sitting fornint the City Hall. 
 The like of thon is nice work for men that's wearing 
 the King's uniform." 
 
 Bland burst into a sudden fit of boisterous laughter. 
 
 " You may laugh if it pleases you," said McConkey,
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 259 
 
 " but I'm thinking it's time for loyal men to be getting 
 guns of their own when the Government is that thick 
 with rebels and Papishes that they'd go shooting at the 
 ould Queen who was always a decent woman, so she 
 was, and too good for the like of them." 
 
 McConkey's story was perfectly true. The solitary 
 shell which was fired into Belfast fell just outside the 
 City Hall. It injured that building a good deal; and 
 it entirely destroyed the statue of Queen Victoria. 
 It is a curious evidence of the amazing loyalty of the 
 people of Belfast that many of them were more angry 
 at this insult to Majesty than they would have been if 
 the shell had killed half a dozen volunteers. McCon- 
 key was not by any means the only man who saw in 
 the accident evidence of an unholy alliance between 
 the Liberal Government and the men whom Babberly 
 was accustomed to describe as " Steeped to the lips in 
 treason."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 BLAND and I stood together outside the City Hall 
 and surveyed the shattered fragments of the 
 statue. The shell must have exploded quite close to 
 it, and I was immensely impressed at first with the ter- 
 rific power of modern artillery. Then I began to think 
 about the moral effects of the bombardment, and I saw 
 my way to helping Bland in his profession. He had 
 been very kind to me and very helpful. I wanted to do 
 him a good turn if I could. 
 
 " This," I said, " is a magnificent opportunity for you. 
 You'll be able to send off a telegram to your newspaper 
 which will make your fortune as a correspondent." 
 
 " I don't see that," said Bland. " If there'd been a 
 little slaughter I might have made something out of it. 
 But a statue! Hang it all! One statue is rather a 
 poor bag for the British Fleet. The people are proud 
 of their navy. They've spent a lot of money on it, and 
 they won't like being told that it has hit nothing but a 
 statue, after a long morning's shooting." 
 
 Bland had not grasped my idea. For a moment I 
 was inclined to keep it for my own use and work it up 
 into an article when I got time. But Bland deserved 
 something from me. I resisted the temptation and gave 
 him the idea. 
 
 " I wish," I said, " that I were a special correspondent. 
 I'd" 
 
 " Well," said Bland. " What would you say? " 
 260
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 261 
 
 " I should take that New Zealander who stood on the 
 broken arch of Westminster Bridge and " 
 
 " Macaulay's," said Bland. " I don't think that the 
 public would stand him again. He's played out." 
 
 " Not in the way I mean to use him. I should, so to 
 speak, spiritualize him, and 
 
 " Hold on a minute," said Bland. 
 
 He got out a note-book and a pencil and prepared to 
 write. 
 
 " Now," he said, " go on." 
 
 Eland's expectant attitude, and the fact that he was 
 evidently going to take down what I said in shorthand, 
 embarrassed me. When I write essays I like to work 
 deliberately and to correct carefully. I aim at a pol- 
 ished elegance of style. I do not care for the kind of 
 offhand composition Bland asked for. 
 
 " ' Interview with a Revolutionary Peer,' " said 
 Bland, " ' Lord Kilmore on the Ulster Situation.' You 
 were just going to say " 
 
 " Oh, nothing much. Only that the feelings of that 
 New Zealander " 
 
 " Meditating on the ruins of a shattered civilization," 
 said Bland. " I can put in that part myself." 
 
 " Are nothing to yours " I said. 
 
 " Yours" said Bland. 
 
 " Well, mine, if this must be an interview ; but I'd 
 rather you had the whole credit. Are nothing to 
 mine when I survey the vacant pedestal of that statue. 
 You catch the idea now?" 
 
 " No," said Bland. " I don't. Is there one? " 
 
 " Yes, there is. These unrecognizable fragments of 
 stone, the once majestic statue, Ulster's loyalty." 
 
 " Good," said Bland. " I have it now." He began
 
 262 
 
 to write rapidly. " ' To the thoughtful mind there was 
 something infinitely tragic in the shattered statue of the 
 great queen, symbol of the destruction of an ideal. 
 England bought the friendship of Nationalist Ireland 
 at a heavy price when the guns of her Fleet annihi- 
 lated the loyalty of Ulster.' That's your idea." 
 
 " You've got it exactly," I said. 
 
 " I'll send it off at once." 
 
 " Yes. You'd better hurry. It's almost certain to 
 occur to Babberly, and the moment it does he'll put it 
 into a speech. If he does, the whole credit will go to 
 him." 
 
 This impressed Bland. He hurried away towards 
 the post-office. I felt that I was not likely to get any- 
 thing more out of the statue. I put a small bit of it in 
 my pocket to keep as a souvenir, and then strolled 
 along Donegall Place. 
 
 I met Crossan, who saluted me gravely. 
 
 " The provisional Government," he said, " desires 
 your lordship's presence in the City Hall." 
 
 " I'm glad there's a provisional Government," I said. 
 " We want something of the sort. Do you happen to 
 know if I'm a member of it?" 
 
 " I've been looking for you, my lord," said Crossan, 
 severely, " for over an hour, and there's no time to 
 waste." 
 
 I hurried off. The Government, after driving off 
 the British Fleet, was likely to be in a good temper, 
 but I did not wish to keep it waiting for me too long. 
 
 When I entered the room I found Conroy, McNeice, 
 Malcolmson, Cahoon and the Dean seated at the table. 
 Moyne was not there. 
 
 " I congratulate you, gentlemen," I said, " on the re-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 263 
 
 suit of the naval engagement. Malcolmson was per- 
 fectly magnificent. It was you, wasn't it, who ?" 
 
 " I didn't see anything magnificent about it," said 
 Malcolmson, sulkily. 
 
 " We're damned well sick of being played with," said 
 McNeice. 
 
 " If the English Government means to fight us " 
 said the Dean, speaking explosively. 
 
 " Do you mean to say," I said, " that you think the 
 Admiral was not in earnest in that bombardment ? " 
 
 " No more than the soldiers were yesterday," said 
 McNeice. " They fired over our heads." 
 
 " And we're not going to stand any more fooling," 
 said Malcolmson. 
 
 " We're business men," said Cahoon, " and this sort 
 of play-acting won't do for Belfast." 
 
 " Your boss politicians," said Conroy, " have been 
 flooding us out with telegrams." 
 
 There was a large pile of telegrams in front of him 
 and some forty or fifty loose sheets of flimsy yellow 
 paper were scattered about the table. 
 
 " Their notion," said Conroy, " is that we should 
 send a man over to negotiate." 
 
 " An ambassador," I said, " Plenipotentiary ? " 
 
 " Lord Moyne won't go," said the Dean. 
 
 " He's the proper man," I said. " Let's try to per- 
 suade him." 
 
 " He's up at the barracks," said McNeice. " He's 
 been there all morning trying to get the General to ar- 
 rest him." 
 
 " It would be far better," I said, " if he went to 
 London and handed himself over to the Prime Minis- 
 ter."
 
 264 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " European convention," said Conroy, " makes it nec- 
 essary, so I am informed, that this particular kind of 
 job should be done by a member of your aristocracy." 
 
 I was, I think, with the exception of Moyne, the 
 only member of the House of Lords in Belfast at the 
 moment. The committee had evidently fixed on me as 
 an ambassador. 
 
 " There is," I said, " a tradition that the Diplomatic 
 Service should be but our circumstances are so very 
 peculiar I am not sure that we ought to feel 
 bound " 
 
 " Will you go? " said Conroy. 
 
 " Of course, I'll go," I said. " There's nothing I 
 should like better." 
 
 " The Finola is lying off Bangor," said Conroy. " I'll 
 run you and Power down there in my motor. He'll 
 land you wherever you like." 
 
 " Good," I said. " I suppose I'll go in my shirt with 
 a rope round my neck, like the burghers of Calais." 
 
 " If that's the regular costume," said Conroy. 
 
 He spoke so severely that I thought I had better drop 
 the subject of clothes. 
 
 "Now, as to the terms which you are prepared to 
 offer the Government," I said. 
 
 " We will not have Home Rule," said the Dean and 
 Malcolmson together. 
 
 " Of course not," I said. " That will be understood 
 at once. Shall I demand Mr. Redmond's head on a 
 charger? I don't suppose you want it, but it's always 
 well to ask for more than you mean to take. It gives 
 the other side a chance of negotiating." 
 
 " All we ask," said McNeice, " is that the English 
 clear out of this country, bag and baggage, soldiers,
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 265 
 
 policemen, tax collectors, the whole infernal crew, and 
 leave us free hand to clean up the mess they've been 
 making for the last hundred years." 
 
 " Either that," said Malcolmson, " or fight us in ear- 
 nest." 
 
 "They'll clear out, of course," I said. "If it's a 
 choice between that and fighting. But what about gov- 
 erning the country afterwards ? " 
 
 " We'll do that," said Conroy, " and if we can't do it 
 better than they did " 
 
 " Oh, you will," I said. " Anyhow, you can't do it 
 worse. But there's just one point more. What 
 about the Lord Lieutenant? " 
 
 " I don't know that he matters any," said Conroy. 
 
 " He doesn't," I said, " not a bit. But he's there at 
 present, and some arrangement will have to be made 
 about him." 
 
 "If the Dublin people like airing their best clothes 
 before an imitation king," said Cahoon, " let them. It 
 won't matter to us." 
 
 This showed me that Cahoon, at least, has a states- 
 man's mind. In unessential matters he is ready to yield 
 to the sentiments of his inferiors. 
 
 " I understand then," I said, " that the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant with the purely ornamental part of the Viceregal 
 staff is to be allowed to remain on the condition that 
 he gives shall we say eight balls and eight dinner- 
 parties every year ? and that every other Englishman 
 leaves the country at once. Those are your terms." 
 
 " And no more talk about Home Rule," said the Dean 
 firmly. 
 
 " Very well," I said, " I'll start at once." 
 
 Bob Power was waiting for me in Conroy's motor
 
 266 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 when I had packed my bag. The streets were very 
 crowded as we drove through them, and the people 
 cheered us tremendously. It was the first time I had 
 ever been cheered, and I found the sensation agreea- 
 ble. Besides cheering, the crowd sang a great deal. 
 Some one had composed a song especially for the occa- 
 sion, which had caught the fancy of the Belfast peo- 
 ple, and spread among them with wonderful rapidity. 
 The tune, I am told, dates from the days of the eight- 
 eenth-century volunteer movement. 
 
 "Do you think I'm a fool 
 
 To put up with Home Rule? 
 For I'm not, as you'll quickly discover, discover. 
 For soldier and rebel 
 I'm equally able ; 
 I'll neither have one nor the t'other, the t'other." 
 
 As poetry this is scarcely equal to Dr. Isaac Watts' 
 version of the ninetieth of David's psalms. The 
 rhyme of " rebel " with " able " is defective, and " dis- 
 cover " and " other " jar rather badly ; but poets of high 
 reputation have done worse in times of patriotic ex- 
 citement, and the thing expressed the feelings of the 
 Belfast people with perfect accuracy. A better poet 
 might very well have failed to understand them. 
 
 Bob and I made the sea-passage as short as possible 
 by steaming to Port Patrick. I spent an anxious half- 
 hour while we passed through the squadron of war- 
 ships. Bob assured me that they would not do anything 
 to us. When I complained that they had a trucu- 
 lent and angry look about them he said that that was 
 nothing out of the common. All warships look trucu- 
 lent. I dare say they do. Warfare has become much
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 367 
 
 more civilized and scientific than it used to be ; but we 
 cannot any of us afford as yet to neglect the wisdom of 
 the mediaeval Chinese. They wore masks in order to 
 terrify their foes. Our battleships are evidently de- 
 signed with the same object. 
 
 I reached London next morning, and at once sent 
 word to the Prime Minister that I was ready to make 
 a treaty with him. He sent Sir Samuel Clithering to 
 act as an intermediary. We met in the library of Moyne 
 House, which was neutral ground. Lady Moyne had 
 been one of the original syndicate which, so to speak, 
 placed our insurrection on the market. Her house was 
 therefore friendly soil for me. She had afterwards dis- 
 associated herself, more or less, from Conroy and Mc- 
 Neice; while Moyne had been trying for two days to 
 surrender himself. The Prime Minister's ambassador 
 could therefore go to Moyne House without loss of 
 dignity. 
 
 Clithering brought my nephew Godfrey with him. 
 
 " Mr. D'Aubigny," he said, " is acting for the present 
 as one of my private secretaries." 
 
 Clithering is a man who accumulates private sec- 
 retaries rapidly. It would not have surprised me to 
 hear that he had a dozen. 
 
 " I brought him," Clithering went on, " to take notes 
 of our conversation. I thought that you would prefer 
 him to a stranger." 
 
 I should very much have preferred the young man 
 from Toynbee Hall who escorted Marion to the ca- 
 thedral. I should, in fact, have preferred any other 
 private secretary. But I had not the heart to say 
 so. The experience of the last few days had softened 
 me, and Godfrey looked immensely pleased with him-
 
 268 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 self. He had on a new frock coat, beautifully cut, 
 and a pair of trousers of an exquisite shade of grey. 
 He also had a pale mauve tie with a pearl pin in it. 
 
 dithering began rather pompously. I dare say he 
 really thought that he was in a position to dictate 
 terms. 
 
 " I hope," he said, " I sincerely hope that you fully 
 realize the extraordinary forbearance with which the 
 Government has treated this this 
 
 " Don't say rebellion," I said ; " we're thoroughly 
 loyal men and always have been." 
 
 dithering hesitated. He wanted to say rebellion, 
 but he remembered that he was engaged in a game of 
 diplomacy. 
 
 " This emeute," he said at last. 
 
 French is, after all, a greater language than Eng- 
 lish. I could not object to emeute. I should have 
 objected to any English description of our rising. 
 
 " We might," said Clithering, " have shot the people 
 down. We might have bombarded the town. I am 
 sure that you realize that." 
 
 " We realize it," I said, " but we don't altogether 
 appreciate it. In fact, we feel that your way of con- 
 ducting the war has been rather insulting to us." 
 
 " You don't mean to say," said Clithering, " that you 
 really wanted us to to shoot in earnest ? " 
 
 " We did. In fact one of the alternatives which I 
 am empowered to offer you " 
 
 " Offer us ! But we we are I mean to say that 
 the terms of settlement must, of course, be dictated by 
 us." 
 
 " Not at all," I said. " Godfrey, you can't write 
 shorthand, I know; but you must try and take down
 
 THE RED HAND OF' ULSTER 269 
 
 what I'm going to say now as accurately as possible. 
 I'll speak quite slowly. The Government I mean, 
 of course, so far as Ulster is concerned, the late Gov- 
 ernment your Government must either conduct 
 the war in a proper business-like way have you got 
 that down, Godfrey ? " 
 
 " Do you mean," said dithering, " that you want 
 us ?" 
 
 " I mean," I said, " that we have put our money 
 into it. Conroy, in particular, has spent huge sums 
 on cannons. We are determined to have a show of 
 some sort. Your Government must therefore either 
 agree to fight properly and not keep running away 
 every time we get a shot in, or " 
 
 " Yes," said Clithering, " go on." 
 
 " I'm waiting," I said, " till Godfrey gets that writ- 
 ten down. Have you finished, Godfrey? Very well. 
 Or now take this down carefully you English 
 clear out of Ireland altogether, every man of you, ex- 
 cept " 
 
 " But but but " said Clithering. 
 
 " And leave us to manage Ireland ourselves. Got 
 that, Godfrey?" 
 
 " But," said Clithering; "but I thought you didn't 
 want Home Rule." 
 
 " We don't. We won't have it at any price." 
 
 " But that is Home Rule of the most extreme kind." 
 
 " There's no use splitting hairs," I said, " or dis- 
 cussing finicking points of political nomenclature. 
 The point for you to grasp is that those are our terms." 
 
 " Will you excuse me ? " said Clithering. " This is 
 all rather surprising. May I call up the Prime Min- 
 ister on the telephone ? "
 
 270 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " Certainly," I said. " I'm in no hurry. But be 
 sure you put it to him distinctly. I don't want to 
 have any misunderstanding." 
 
 There was no telephone in the library of Moyne 
 House, dithering had to ring for a servant who led 
 him off to another room. Godfrey seized the oppor- 
 tunity of his absence to confide in me. 
 
 " Poor old Clithering is a bit of a bounder," he said. 
 " Makes stockings, you know, Excellency. And Lady 
 Clithering is a fat vulgarian. It's all she can do to 
 pick up her aitches. I shouldn't think of stopping in 
 their house if " 
 
 " If any one else would give you food and pocket 
 money." 
 
 " There's that, of course," said Godfrey. " But 
 what I was thinking of is the daughter. There is a 
 daughter and she ought to have a tidy little pile. Now 
 do you think it would be worth my while to marry 
 into a family like that for forty thou. ? Clithering 
 ought to run to forty thou., with the title in sight. I 
 wonder if you would mind sounding him, Excel- 
 lency?" 
 
 " At present," I said, " I'm arranging about the fate 
 of Belfast, which is rather an important matter in some 
 ways. But " 
 
 Godfrey did not seem to care much about the fate of 
 Belfast. 
 
 " I suppose," he said, " that it really is settled about 
 Marion and that fellow Power." 
 
 " Quite," I said ; " they're to be married at once." 
 
 " Then I think, Excellency, if you don't mind speak- 
 ing to old Clithering I wouldn't like to commit my- 
 self until I was pretty sure of the money. There's
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 271 
 
 only one daughter, so he can hardly offer less than 
 forty thou." 
 
 I fully intended to tell Godfrey what I thought of 
 him; but words were not easy to find. I was still 
 searching for a noun to go along with " damnable " 
 when Clithering came back. He seemed greatly ex- 
 cited. 
 
 " The Prime Minister, he blurted out, " is quite 
 ready He says he has no objection In fact it's 
 what we've been trying to do all along. Our Home 
 Rule Bill was simply an attempt ' 
 
 " Do try to be coherent," I said. " What did the 
 Prime Minister say? " 
 
 " He said we'd leave Ireland with the greatest pleas- 
 ure," said Qithering. 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 Something in the way Clithering spoke made me 
 think the Prime Minister must have said more than 
 that. 
 
 " He added," said Clithering, " that" 
 
 Then he paused nervously. 
 
 " Out with it," I said. " It's far better to have no 
 secrets. Godfrey, take down the Prime Minister's 
 words." 
 
 " He added," said Clithering, " that there is only one 
 thing which would please him better than to see the 
 back of the last Irishman leaving Westminster, and 
 that is" 
 
 " Go on," I said. 
 
 " To hear that at the end of three weeks you'd all 
 torn each other to pieces, and that there was nothing 
 but a lot of trouser buttons left to show that Ireland 
 had ever been an inhabited country. Of course he
 
 272 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 didn't mean it. If there was the least chance of any 
 internecine strife our conscience would not allow us 
 after all we have a duty, as Englishmen but there's; 
 no risk of bloodshed, is there, Lord Kilmore ? " 
 
 " Not the slightest. I may take it then that your 
 Government agrees to our terms. You cart away your 
 army and all your officials, except the Lord Lieutenant. 
 We want him. He's to give parties for the Dublin 
 doctors and the smaller landed gentry." 
 
 " But about his salary," said dithering. " Is that to 
 be an Imperial charge, or are you ? " 
 
 " I forgot to ask about that," I said, " but if there's 
 any difficulty I expect Conroy will agree to pay it. It's 
 not much, is it ? " 
 
 " I'm not sure of the exact figure ; but I know it's 
 never supposed to be enough." 
 
 " I've no actual authority for saying so," I said, " but 
 I expect we'll want to do the thing decently if we do it 
 at all. Cahoon has the mind of a statesman, and in 
 his opinion something will have to be done to soothe 
 the Dublin public. A first-rate Vice-Regal establish- 
 ment was his idea. However, we needn't go into 
 details. The main thing is that we want a Lord Lieu- 
 tenant. If your Government undertakes to supply suit- 
 able men from time to time I think I may promise that 
 we'll find the money. Write that down, Godfrey." 
 
 " When you speak of the English clearing out of Ire- 
 land," said Clithering, " and leaving you the country to 
 yourselves, you don't of course mean absolute fiscal 
 independence." 
 
 " We do," I said. 
 
 " You can't mean that," said Clithering. " It's cost-
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 273 
 
 ing us nearly two millions a year to run the country, and 
 if that's withdrawn you will go bankrupt." 
 
 " What McNeice said," I replied, " was that you were 
 to clear out, bag, baggage, soldiers, police, tax-collectors, 
 and the whole " 
 
 " Tax-collectors ! " said Clithering. " I'm not sure " 
 
 " Didn't your Prime Minister say he'd be glad to get 
 rid of us? What's the use of your arguing on about 
 every little point ? " 
 
 " But," said Clithering, " the collection of the rev- 
 enue! Between ourselves now, Lord Kilmore, do you 
 think there would be any risk of your imposing a 
 tariff on " 
 
 " Certain to," I said. " It will be one of the first 
 things we do." 
 
 " We can't agree to that," said Clithering. " Free 
 Trade is a principle, a sacred principle with us. You 
 can't expect We are a Free Trade Government. 
 Our consciences " 
 
 " Very well," I said. " Go on with the war. Bom- 
 bard Belfast. Kill another woman. Smash the Albert 
 Memorial with a shell." 
 
 " Our consciences " said Clithering. 
 
 " Your consciences," I said, " will have to let you do 
 one thing or the other." 
 
 " Now take my own case," said Clithering. " I am 
 interested, deeply interested, in hosiery. We do a big 
 business in stockings." 
 
 Godfrey winced. I do not wonder. The future 
 Lady Kilmore must, of course, wear stockings, but it is 
 not pleasant for Godfrey to think of her supply coming 
 straight from the paternal factory.
 
 274 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 " The Irish trade," said dithering, " is not among the 
 most remunerative, but " 
 
 " We can only afford to wear the cheaper sorts," I 
 said ; " and a great many of us can't buy any at all. 
 I don't think you need bother about the Irish trade." 
 
 " Still, it is substantial. Now, a hostile tariff or a 
 bounty on Balbriggan ' 
 
 " You'll have to establish a factory in Ireland," I 
 said, " and dodge the tariff. Tipperary now. Labour 
 is comparatively cheap, and After all, it's a choice 
 between that and letting the Fleet loose at Belfast 
 again." 
 
 Clithering thought this over. I think tke idea of 
 cheap labour in Tipperary cheered him up. When he 
 next spoke it was in a most friendly tone. 
 
 " I hope," he said, " that the shells which were 
 fired" 
 
 " There was only one," I said. 
 
 " I heard that no lives were lost," said Clithering. 
 " I hope that the damage done to property was not 
 serious." 
 
 " One statue," I said, " was smashed to bits." 
 
 " I'm very sorry, very sorry indeed. Now I wonder 
 if you would allow me I mean if the people of Bel- 
 fast would allow me as a personal expression of the 
 warm feeling of friendliness I've always felt for the 
 Irish people, all the Irish people I wonder if I might 
 offer to replace the statue. I should esteem it an 
 honour." 
 
 " It was a very large statue," I said, " and must have 
 cost " 
 
 " Oh, I should not allow considerations of money to 
 stand in my way."
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 275 
 
 This was handsome. I looked at Godfrey to see how 
 he liked to hear his future wife's dowry being frittered 
 away on statues. I could see that he was anything but 
 pleased. 
 
 " I shall convey your offer," I said, " to the people of 
 Belfast. They may not want that exact statue again. 
 We're not quite as keen on Kings and Queens as we 
 were. But I feel quite sure something symbolic would 
 appeal to us strongly. What would you think now of 
 Ulster as an infant Hercules strangling a snake repre- 
 senting Home Rule? Any good sculptor would knock 
 off something of that sort for you ; about twelve feet by 
 nine feet, not counting the pedestal. By the way, did 
 we do much damage to your ship ? The one Malcolm- 
 son hit with his cannon ball ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said dithering. " I did not hear 
 any details." 
 
 "Because," I said, "if she is injured in any way 
 But perhaps she was insured? " 
 
 " I don't think men-of-war are insured." 
 
 " Well, they ought to be. But if that one wasn't I'm 
 sure we'd like to make good any damage we did. Con- 
 roy has lots of money, and he'd be sorry if the English 
 people were put to any expense in repairing a battle- 
 ship we injured." 
 
 I am not a practised ambassador, but I have always 
 understood that diplomacy is a trade in which politeness 
 pays. I was not going to be outdone by Clithering. 
 When he offered Belfast a new statue I could hardly do 
 less than promise that Conroy would mend the ship. I 
 was very glad afterwards that I thought of it. Clither- 
 ing was tremendously pleased, and made me quite a 
 long speech. He said that he looked upon my offer as
 
 276 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 
 
 a kind of first-fruit of the new spirit of amity which 
 was coming into existence between England and Ire- 
 land. 
 
 This ended our negotiations to the satisfaction of 
 every one concerned. 
 
 Lady Moyne returned at once to Castle Affey and 
 spent the summer in planning new ways of keeping the 
 insurgent industrial democracy from invading the rights 
 and privileges of the propertied classes. Last time I 
 dined there she explained to me a scheme for develop- 
 ing the Boy Scout movement, which would, she thought, 
 distract the attention of the public and push social 
 questions into the background. Babberly escaped hav- 
 ing to address a labour meeting in Newcastle-on-Tyne. 
 He had promised to do this, but there was no necessity 
 for him to keep his promise once the troops were with- 
 drawn from Belfast. He returned to his duties in Par- 
 liament, and, as I gathered from the papers, harassed 
 the Government successfully all through the autumn 
 session. The Dean and Crossan played their hymn 
 tune on our church bells every day for a fortnight. 
 They still and I am writing several months after the 
 new Irish Government has been firmly established 
 congratulate each other on the way in which the third 
 Home Rule Bill was defeated by the unfaltering atti- 
 tude of the Ulster Loyalists. 
 
 Godfrey, I regret to say, failed to marry Miss dith- 
 ering. She took a violent dislike to him after he had 
 spent three weeks in her father's house. Not even the 
 prospect of becoming Lady Kilmore would reconcile 
 her to the marriage. I am therefore still responsible 
 for his mr intenance. 
 
 I have, unfortunately, been obliged to give up writing
 
 THE RED HAND OF ULSTER 277 
 
 my " History of Irish Rebellions." I do not understand 
 Marion's system of filing, and I cannot find any of the 
 papers I want. I cannot get Marion to explain things 
 to me, or to take any trouble to help me. Since she 
 married Bob Power she has lost all interest in my lit- 
 erary work. 
 
 THE END