“If Gallagher gets through this afternoon,” said Dr. O’Grady, “I shall feel pretty safe. I wish I hadn’t been obliged to send Gallagher off alone with Billing. Poor Thady is such an ass. But what could I do? I couldn’t go myself because I had to explain the situation to you and Doyle. I shall feel deeply thankful when Thady is safely home again.” “By the way,” said the Major, “what was the explanation that you gave to Doyle? It was different from my one I know. I’d rather like to hear it.” “Poor Doyle!” said Dr. O’Grady. “Do you know I felt quite sorry for him about that filly. He probably won’t find out what’s wrong with her for about a fortnight or three weeks. He’ll be so busy over this General John Regan business that he won’t have time to do anything with her. But when he does find out——” “He’ll not be the first man in Ireland,” said the Major, “who’s been let in over a horse, and I don’t pity him.” “I do,” said Dr. O’Grady, “I pitied you, Major, when you were stuck and I helped you to get out I don’t see why I shouldn’t pity Doyle too.” “How do you mean to get him out?” said the Major. “Perhaps you intend to palm off that filly on your American.” “Not at all,” said Dr. O’Grady. “My idea is to get Doyle’s money back for him out of the statue.” The Major thought this statement over and gradually came to suspect that O’Grady contemplated some dishonourable use of public money. He was just beginning to make a violent protest when the door of the room in which they were sitting opened, and Gallagher came in. “Doctor,” he said, “will you oblige me by coming over to the hotel at once and pacifying the American gentleman?” “I thought as much,” said Dr. O’Grady, jumping up. “You’ve muddled things somehow, Thady.” “I did the best I could,” said Gallagher, “but he wouldn’t rest content with young Kerrigan’s wife.” “Good heavens!” said Dr. O’Grady, “what on earth have you said? Young Kerrigan hasn’t got a wife.” “Sure I know that. But what was I to do? What I said was for the best. But anyway you’d better come round to the hotel, till you see for yourself the way we’re in.” “Come along, Major,” said Dr. O’Grady. “You’ll enjoy watching us get out of this entanglement, whatever it is.” “I’m not going with you,” said the Major. “I don’t see any fun in standing still and listening to you telling lies to that American. It’s not my idea of spending a pleasant afternoon.” “Come along,” said Dr. O’Grady, taking him by the arm. “I may want you. I can’t tell yet whether I shall or not, for I don’t know yet what’s happened. But I may.” The Major hung back. “I’m not going,” he said. “If you don’t,” said Dr. O’Grady in a whisper, “I’ll tell Doyle about the filly, all about her, and as you haven’t got the money for her yet—well, you know what Doyle is. He’s not the kind of man I’d care to trust very far when he finds out that—Oh, do come on.”