Room 13 was an agreeable surprise after my dreary journey. Here was comfort; here a fire; here the carpet was swept and fairly new, and the tables were dusted. Over six foot of man rose from behind one of the tables. “So you’ve had trouble getting in?” He was polite. “Come over near the fire.” He indicated an armchair, and his manner was helpful. “Now what can I do for you?” “It’s about my husband,” I began. The fire gave me confidence. Ammunition seemed a milder charge in here. I poured forth my woes. He made no comment until I finished. “Well?” I ended. “Of course, he is a perfectly innocent man?” “But he really is. Would you expect my husband to know what was under another woman’s bed?” “I’d make it my business to know in these times,” he declared. “Your house hasn’t much of a name. Figgis was probably up to no good there. Fitzgerald was arrested there. And now this charge of ammunition. Why should I believe your husband? Of course, I’m not suggesting that he isn’t innocent. But, good God, if you’d heard that story as often as I have! Do you know that Figgis was seen going into that house only two days ago?” I shook my head. “It’s true.” “If the ammunition was such a crime, why not arrest Mrs. Slaney, and earn the thanks of us all?” “Ah, there you have me. Look.” He walked over to the window and pointed to a large building opposite. “Irish Office. Causes us more trouble than all the Shinners put together. We can’t arrest half the people we would like to because of them. They tie us hand and foot. The public is so sentimental. Women can always get interest roused, and questions asked in Parliament. Yet we know the women are as deeply in it as the men. Oh, we know all that is to be known about them; but we’ve got to leave them alone.” “I see. Then you intend to keep my husband?” “I don’t know about that. Mrs. Slaney’s son should communicate with us soon, and if he can establish his claim to the stuff, your husband will be released. Do you know any one who would be ready to answer for him?” I mentioned 47’s name, and he became interested. “He’s away now,” I said, “or I would have gone to him at once.” “He’ll not be back for some weeks,” said the man. “If he can vouch for your husband, it will be all right.” “Some weeks! My poor man will be dead by then.” “Not he. He’s very comfortable where he is. You can send him in anything you like. He has others with him, and they’re all very happy.” “There’s nothing more that I can do?” “Nothing at the moment.” “A solicitor can always see him, I understand?” “Certainly. Any time that you like.” I got up to go. “I haven’t been able to give you much satisfaction; but you’ll get him back as soon as Major Slaney claims the stuff.” He walked to the door and opened it for me. “If there’s anything I can do for you, come along and let me know.” “There’s nothing, thank you.”