“I will, sor. ’Twas pigs I was dhrivin’ that day, sor, to Ballyshiel fair from just beyond Cullanin. At Cullanin, sor, I dhropped in wid Danny Mulcahy, that intintioned thravellin’ the same way, an’ while we tuk a thrifle av a dhrink in comes Dennis Grady, that was to go to Ballyshiel similarously. An’ so we had another thrifle av a dhrink, or maybe a thrifle more, an’ we wint togedther, passin’ this way, sor, as ye may not know, bein’ likely a shtranger. Well, sor, ut was as we were just forninst this place that there came a divil av a bang that makes us shtop simultaneous. ‘What’s that?’ sez Dan. ‘’Tis a gunshot,’ sez I, ‘an’ ’tis in the brick house too.’ ‘That is so,’ sez Dennis; ‘nowhere else.’ And we lukt at wan another. ‘An’ what’ll we do?’ sez I. ‘What would yez?’ sez Dan; ‘ ’tis none av our business.’ ‘That is so,’ sez Dennis again, and we wint on. Ut was quare, maybe, but it might aisily be wan av the jintlemen emptyin’ a barr’l out o’ windy or what not. An’--an’ so--an’ so----” Mr. Shanahan scratched his ear, “an’ so--we wint.” “And do you know at what time this was?” Larry Shanahan ceased scratching, and seized his ear between thumb and forefinger, gazing severely at the floor with his one eye as he did so, plunged in computation. “Sure,” he said, “’twould be--’twould be--let’s see--’twould be--” he looked up, “’twould be half-past two maybe, or maybe a thrifle nearer three.” “And Main was in the place all the time after two,” Mr. Bowyer said, bringing down his fist on his open hand. “That finishes it. We’ve nailed him to the minute.” “Had you a watch with you?” asked Hewitt. “Divil of a watch in the company, sor. I made an internal calculation. ’Tis foive mile from Cullanin, and we never lift till near half an hour after the Town Hall clock had struck twelve. ’Twould take us two hours and a thrifle more, considherin’ the pigs, an’ the rough road, an’ the distance, an’--an’ the thrifle of dhrink.” His eye rolled slyly as he said it. “That was my calculation, sor.” Here the constable appeared with two more men. Each had the usual number of eyes, but in other respects they were very good copies of Mr. Shanahan. They were both ragged, and neither bore any violent likeness to a teetotaler. “Dan Mulcahy and Dennis Grady,” announced the constable. Mr. Dan Mulcahy’s tale was of a piece with Mr. Larry Shanahan’s, and Mr. Dennis Grady’s was the same. They had all heard the shot, it was plain. What Dan had said to Dennis and what Dennis had said to Larry mattered little. Also they were all agreed that the day was Tuesday, by token of the fair. But as to the time of day there arose a disagreement. “’Twas nigh soon afther wan o’clock,” said Dan Mulcahy. “Soon afther wan!” exclaimed Larry Shanahan with scorn. “Soon afther your grandmother’s pig! ’Twas half afther two at laste. Ut sthruck twelve nigh half an hour before we lift Cullanin. Why, yez heard ut!” “That I did not. Ut sthruck eleven, an’ we wint in foive minutes.”