We never got another chance of shooting Lord French. He retired completely from public life. He scarcely ever appeared in public afterwards. Even when he went to England armoured cars patrolled the roads to the mail boat, and armed detectives surrounded him, even to London. His movements were kept a close secret and disclosed to the Press many days later. Had we been in a position to use rifles that day we could easily have made sure of shooting him from Kelly’s house, but at that time our only means of travelling to the spot was by bicycle, for practically no motor cars were in use. This was due to the fact that a few months previously the British had made an order that every motor-driver should have a special permit from the military, bearing not only his name but his description and a photograph, like a passport. The order was to prevent the I.R.A. from using motor cars for getting about, especially for night attacks. Naturally, the only men likely to get permits from the British would be those who could prove their “loyalty” and were therefore not likely to assist us or to run the risk of giving us a car. The Motor Drivers’ Union resenting this degrading condition met the order by refusing to apply for permits and by declaring a general strike all over the country. Hence as we could not get motors to travel to Ashtown we had no means of concealing rifles as we naturally could not strap them on bicycles. However, I must say I am glad now that Lord French escaped. He was only doing his duty by his adopted country, the Nation or the Empire which had given him wealth, title and honours. Let me pause to recount some sequels to the Ashtown attack. Church and Press denounced us in unmeasured terms, but the public were more guarded in their condemnation; slowly the country was beginning to realise that we meant war with England until, to quote the words of O’Donovan Rossa, “she was stricken to her knees or we were stricken to our graves.” For the most part then, while the press and the clergy uttered bitter denunciations the public remained silent. It was the turning point. They were judging the situation. In private discussions many defended our standpoint. In public there was, of course, no means of doing so. The great majority of our countrymen were taking their bearings; they were perhaps shocked at the daring force tactics, but they were beginning to realise that we meant business, and that it was their duty to stand by us.