The special train in which the Viceroy was to return was due to arrive at Ashtown at 11.40 a.m. Half an hour before that our party had arrived on the scene. We had started from Fleming’s, in Drumcondra, that morning, and at Mrs. Martin Conlan’s, of Phibsboro’, I had stopped for a cup of tea. There were eleven of us all told in the exploit—namely, Mick McDonnell, Tom Keogh (later a Free State Officer killed in the Civil War); Martin Savage (killed that day); Sean Treacy (killed in action in Talbot Street, Dublin, ten months later); Seumas Robinson, Sean Hogan, Paddy Daly (later a Major-General in the Free State Army); Vincent Byrne, Tom Kilkoyne, Joe Leonard and myself. [Illustration: MARTIN SAVAGE.] We cycled out the main road—the Cabra Road—going in pairs at different intervals so as not to arouse suspicion. We left our bicycles outside Kelly’s, for at any hour of the day it was not unusual to see a dozen bicycles outside that tavern while the owners are refreshing themselves within. We knew every inch of the locality, every bush and turn, every nook and corner. As a further advantage we knew the exact order in which Lord French and his escort always travelled. We knew we would arouse suspicion were we to wait on the roadside, so according as our men arrived they entered the tavern. Inside were a few of the local labourers and farmhands. Our appearance in pairs did not seem to create any suspicion, especially as the local people were not at all aware that Lord French was to pass the spot in a short time. In the publichouse while drinking our bottles of minerals we indicated to any who might be listening that our meeting was purely accidental. We talked about cattle and paddocks and grazing and many things except politics. But even in this fictitious conversation we had to be careful, for the men who were in the shop knew farming from A to Z, while some of our men knew very little about that industry. While we were talking about all these things for the benefit of our audience we were beginning to get anxious now that the time was drawing near. More than one of us glanced at his watch from time to time, and our eyes were busy all the time watching the cross-road, for from the shop we had a clear view of everyone who passed either on the main road or on the road to the Park. The first sign of activity we saw was a large D.M.P. man coming from the direction of the Park Gate. He evidently knew who was to arrive, for he took up a position near the cross-road to control any traffic that might come that way. His spear-pointed helmet, his shining buttons and his spotless boots, not to speak of the care with which he pulled down his tunic under his belt, all indicated that he felt called upon to make an impressive display. We did not trouble very much about the poor man, though he had a revolver holster by his side and no doubt it was not empty.