I heard a smothered oath from the other room. The door was open, and I saw an officer with my stocking bag. He had evidently run his finger on a darning needle. He cast the bag from him, and turned his attention to my chest of drawers. The officer in charge opened the top of the desk. The _Bulletins_ were in the bottom drawer; but one that I had been reading was on top of the desk. It lay face downwards almost under his hand. I couldn’t make up my mind whether to take the bull by the horns and own up to them, or try my luck. My luck stood me in good stead. He picked up a horoscope I had been casting. He had another attack of humanity. He put down the gun he had in his hand, and turned to me with the map. “By Jove, are you interested in astrology? I started it during the war, and before I came on this stunt.” “I started it when Curfew was long and life became perceptibly shorter.” He propounded the map to me, as if he loved to hear himself on the subject. “Is there anywhere I can go for lessons in Dublin?” I told him where to go, wondering what the feelings of the meek astrologers would be when an Auxiliary armed to the teeth stalked into their presence. He flung down the map on top of the impious _Bulletin_, and then ran his hand through the mass of papers and letters. He stooped to the first drawer, then to the second; but my luck held good. Halfway through the second drawer he straightened up and said-- “I’ll take your word for it.” “Don’t do that,” I said. “Better finish your job.” He laughed. “No, I’ll trust you.” He walked to the door of the other room where the searchers were busy making hay. “Stop searching,” he said. “Mrs. Fitzgerald isn’t in the mattress.” After that we stood a few minutes in light conversation. The tenders went off down the street with a flourish. At every window as usual a head was watching, and a few of the more daring spirits hovered upon their doorsteps. The day had begun well. Mrs. Slaney returned five minutes after. I think she was glad to have missed the raid, although she declared that she wished she had been present to let the men have her opinion of them. Worse things happened in Dublin every day. The Sinn Feiners began to carry out their “executions” in the streets. Two Auxiliaries were shot coming out of a Grafton Street Picture House. It was said a woman pointed them out, and when the dying men were lying on the pavement nobody dared go near them. Two more Auxiliaries were shot while they were sitting at tea with their wives. The kidnappings were going on. The military and police never rested, and all night long there was shooting. People were sick to death at the state of things. Nobody ever said what was at the bottom of his or her heart, for nobody was sure of the other person’s beliefs, and everybody feared the power of the opposite side. Meanwhile the country was going to rack and ruin, and was there a human man or woman who did not long for peace?