“A soldier, after the battle, lies down among his companions, safe, secure, knowing no harm can come; but an agent is never safe, never secure. This minute, next minute the ground may have opened under his feet, his secret may be out, and he standing alone against a nation. The curtain may hold an assassin, the street corner may conceal the bullet. While he eats the foe may be drawing near; while he sleeps they may be coming. Shall he take this road? Shall he take that? “After some time in the service he becomes like a beast of the field. Danger comes on the breeze, in the rustle of the grass, in the shadows of the trees. While he eats he listens. While he sleeps he plans.” I interrupted him. “I’ve got to get home now. Tell your wife we’ll be along to see her to-night.” “She’d like it,” he admitted. “We’ll be there quite soon.” “I don’t think it will matter. We haven’t been shadowed as far as I know.” “So long,” I said, pulling up. “So long,” he said, going on. I turned round and went back to Grafton Street. CHAPTER XII VISIT TO A TOP STORY As soon as Himself and I had had dinner, we went to look up 47’s wife. There was no time to waste if we were to get back before curfew. I was longing to see her after all this time. They lived in a top story. A dilapidated servant opened the door, and gave us a peculiar, sidelong look. She did not know us, but she stood aside and made no effort to show the way up. The house seemed grubby in the dim light of the hall. The windows showed the city’s dust and fog; in the better light the curtains would have revealed the dirty hands of maids who had tended the fires and then pulled the curtains across the windows. How well I knew it all! And then the house grew more and more dilapidated as we mounted. There was an ancient meat safe at the foot of the last lot of stairs with a cat asleep on top of it. The final flight of stairs was bare, and we made the steps creak as we went up. Her ears were ever atune to footsteps, and the sound of ours brought her out on the landing. “You!” There was relief in her voice. “Hallo! All well? My dear, you look seedy.” She laughed, but her laughter did not ring true. “It was nice of you to come.” She shut the door behind us. “You are seedy,” I said, looking at her carefully. “I’m all right,” she answered. “This is funk; pure, unadulterated funk has brought me to this. I’m behaving in a beastly manner, really. The only thing I haven’t done is run away. Some day I’m afraid I will.” “But your husband’s all right?” “For how long? To-day? To-morrow? There’s not a door that will lock. You know Irish doors. He’s out now. I made him go and get a gun. I said if he didn’t I wouldn’t stay another day. One man against a dozen hasn’t much chance; but an armed man can do more than a man with nothing.” Himself nodded.