A fortnight later French was expected at the Castle, and of course his journey would take him across the same bridge. We knew of the arrangements, and again took up our positions. The weather was bitterly cold. It was in the early forenoon, and suddenly snow began to fall. But we did not mind the snow. The job we were bent upon was too serious to be interfered with by such trifles. Some of us paced the bridge in the blinding snow, and wondered were we to be disappointed again, for the hour fixed for his arrival had passed. While we were on the bridge a friend who recognised us passed, and, evidently realising that we were on some job remarked with pointed sarcasm, “That’s a most convenient spot you are taking shelter from the snow!” His words brought us to a sense of our position. Anybody in the shops round the bridge would have suspected us at once. As there seemed no use in waiting any longer we went off. Five minutes later lorry loads of military swooped down on the bridge, and held up and searched everyone in the neighbourhood. Detectives who had been posted near the entrance to Dublin Castle had seen us on the bridge, and at once telephoned to the Viceregal Lodge, with the result that French cancelled his appointment, and the troops came instead. We had just got away in time. Another instance of our luck! On all these occasions our information about Lord French’s arrangements was absolutely reliable. No doubt he often changed his plans at the last moment, fearing that our sources of knowledge were as sound as indeed they always proved. Personal reasons, which do not concern me, also often caused his plans to be altered, while of course the advice of touts and spies had its effect. It certainly was an eloquent commentary on British rule in Ireland that the head of the Government carried his life in his hands whenever he ventured through the streets of the capital. As everybody knew, he was wise enough to venture out only as seldom as he could, even when accompanied by a huge escort; though I have no reason to think that personally he was not a brave man. At last when our patience was almost exhausted, we got information that gave us hope of achieving our purpose. It was in December, 1919. The newspapers of these days seldom gave any information at all regarding the Viceroy’s movements. Even when he crossed to England occasionally the newspapers were not informed until he was safely back in Phoenix Park. They were not encouraged to trace his movements. Sometimes, however, the newspapers were supplied with information intended deliberately to mislead the public in general, and the I.R.A. in particular. At the time of which I speak the Irish newspapers had informed their readers that Lord French was away out of the country. I think they actually stated that he was cruising somewhere in the North Sea.