“Government supplies, I bet. The Auxiliaries got bored and went to sleep, and the Sinn Feiners came along.” But I was not joking in my heart. I was feeling uneasy. We did not go to the fire when the tram stopped at Nelson’s Pillar. It was too late and too cold. We climbed down into the middle of an ugly-looking crowd. A lorry passed quite close to us. “Hello!” Himself exclaimed, “there’s a dead man!” We stared after the lorry. The booted feet of a dead man poked out of one end. The crowd stirred unpleasantly. What had happened? More lorries, full of armed men, were following the first one. An armoured car rolled by. They all passed over O’Connell Bridge and fled down the quays towards the Castle. From the Castle another stream of lorries passed towards the fire. A newsboy came quite close calling out something, and we got a paper. There, in great lines across the page, we read, “British Officers Murdered In Bed.” We went home astounded. The flat seemed unusually still. Mrs. Slaney heard us and came down the stairs before we had shut the door. She looked a little shaken. “Have you heard the news? Dreadful! Horrible! But I have no doubt they deserved it.” “You can’t approve of this?” “No, I don’t approve of it. I don’t approve of shooting at all; but you must remember how the Irish people are goaded.” Without warning there was the sound of firing outside. We crowded to the window in time to see an armoured car rolling by at the end of the road, and people flying in all directions. A Lewis gun on top of the car was firing shots into the air at intervals. “That’s blank cartridge,” Himself said. “It’s to clear the streets.” “There!” Mrs. Slaney exclaimed. “Why do they terrify innocent people like that? No wonder the people of Ireland are bitter. Ireland is the most crimeless country in the world when she is left alone.” Mrs. O’Grady came in with our teapot. “You’ll feel the better, mum, iv a cup of tea,” she declared. “It do be dreadful, and all those beautiful young men.” “I can’t understand why we didn’t hear the shooting this morning,” I said. “It must have been all round.” “I’ll leave you to your tea,” said Mrs. Slaney, who wanted to stay. “You won’t be going out to-night. Perhaps you’ll come up and see me.” “I’ll probably go and see what the fire is,” Himself answered. He turned to me. “It’ll do you good to get out.” Mrs. Slaney retreated, and Mrs. O’Grady nodded her head. “It’d be a charity to leave her alone. She’s that frightened it would do her good.” Then she went out. “Well?” “What a haul,” Himself exclaimed. “How about poor 47?” I cried. “He must be all right. His name’s not in the paper. We must look him up.” “Look his poor wife up.” And then I said, “Let’s have tea and get out for a bit. I hate the feeling of this house.” “We’d better get back before it’s late. It’s sure to be a disturbed night. I expect they’ll make curfew earlier after this.”