“There’s one other thing.” Mrs. Slaney moved uneasily. “It’s about the baths. You and your husband have always had as many baths as you wanted. We must make a little difference in that rule now, and treat you like the others. This weather you can’t want more than two baths a week. Perhaps in summer we can make some other arrangement.” She went on to the Minister of Propaganda. “Poor man, he will be delighted to get a flat where he can have his meals in comfort. He’s been on the run for a long time now. It’s shameful an Irishman should have to live like that. I shall soon get to know Mrs. Fitzgerald, the baby will be the link; and I shall hear everything that is going on. I must go and write my letter.” When I spoke to Himself about it afterwards, he said, “I suppose those people will be all right here. I wouldn’t like to go bail. Since the last raid men always seem hanging about. I suppose they give the house a look up now and then. The less we know about things the better.” But we were not the only people in the house with forebodings. A week later, when Mrs. Fitzgerald had already been settled in a day or two, the door opened cautiously and Mrs. O’Grady, dustpan in hand, came in with the air of a conspirator. “The mistress is after setting the hall flat,” she said mysteriously. “I know. I thought they had been in a day or two.” “It’s bad luck she’s bringing on everybody. She’s always that frightened she’ll not be noticed. She’ll be noticed now. Never fear, the Black-and-Tans will be burning the place down one night.” “Mrs. O’Grady, what do you mean?” “She’s not telling you who’s in the house, not she. She’s a mean, mean woman, and it’s black trouble she’s bringing on us all. Well I know it. I do say to O’Grady of a night that your husband, mum, is the only gentleman as has been in this house since the Captain left as had these rooms before you, and he wasn’t any great gentleman so as to speak. She doesn’t know how to treat nice people when she does get them. She’s set her flat to Desmond Fitzgerald, that’s what she’s after doing.” “Mrs. O’Grady!” “I do be going blind, but not so blind; and it’s himself as had his pictures in the papers not long ago. God help him. It’s on the run he’s been ever since the Sunday shootings, though a more innocent man never drew breath I’m hearing those who know say. It’s the mistress will bring trouble on him if he sets a foot in this house. It’s ‘Mrs. O’Grady,’ she’ll be saying, ‘hold your tongue or I’ll get shot iv ye.’ But she’ll tell. There’s not one person she’ll meet that she won’t tell, she’ll be that swollen with pride.” “You’ve seen him?”