Still, I cannot say that I was not excited. Now and again I heard the engines of the military cars throbbing. Perhaps they would go without finding me. But they were only driving up and down to keep back the crowds. When I looked out the Auxiliaries were still there. The minutes grew into hours. Would the raid ever end? When would the door open to admit the searchers to my room? Luck favoured me once more. After a two hours’ stay the raiders departed without even coming near my part of the house. When they had gone I learned the reason of their swoop. Early that morning a young I.R.A. man named Furlong had been wounded in an explosion which occurred near Dunboyne, ten miles outside the city, where he had been testing some bombs. His comrades at once rushed him in a dying condition to the Mater. The British got to hear of this. He was not unlike me in appearance. The poor fellow died while the raid was in progress, and I believe some of the Black and Tans thought they had seen the last of Dan Breen. This raid had for me personally the saddest sequel that could come to pass. In the next chapter I shall relate what I afterwards learned. CHAPTER XXIII. EXECUTIONS AND REPRISALS. While I was lying in the Mater my faithful comrade, Sean Treacy, was never idle. His main concern during this time was to be ever on the watch for my safety. And that Thursday evening, 14th October, 1920, he learned that the hospital was surrounded. Without a moment’s delay he went to Headquarters to seek a rescue party of which he himself would be one. His request was granted, and within an hour he and other trusty comrades were busy mobilising their men. In his zeal to undertake a desperate task for my safety he forgot about himself. He went openly through the principal streets—and was shadowed. I cannot say for certain, but I have a firm conviction that the man who traced him was the same man who, three days before, had traced us to Drumcondra. Sean had almost completed the arrangements for the rescue when he went to the “Republican Outfitters,” in Talbot Street, where he was to have a few final details settled. That place was a drapery establishment owned by Tom Hunter, T.D., and Peadar Clancy. It was perhaps the best known centre in which I.R.A. men met from time to time, or delivered messages, though it was so closely watched that it was never advisable to delay there long. When Sean arrived in the shop he found George and Jack Plunkett, sons of Count Plunkett, T.D., and both members of the Headquarters Staff. With them were Joe Vyse and Leo Henderson, officers of the Dublin Brigade, who had been holding a hurried meeting.