“Now don’t get yer rag out, Frankie. I was comin’ to that. I was comin’ to it, man. They held me up in the street the other day and had a long talk about ye. They’re after ye yet all right. Sergeant McCartney an’ another fellah from Sligo was there. That Detective-Sergeant McCartney is a bad lot. Huh, he’s a rascal, an’ no goin’ behind a wall to say it. He swore to me that he’d get ye dead or alive. ‘I wouldn’t care much for yer job then,’ says I to him, just like that, an’ he gave me an eye that ud knock ye stiff.” “He says he’s goin’ to get me, did he?” murmured McPhillip dreamily. Suddenly his mind seemed to wander away and he lost interest in his present surroundings. His eyes rested vacantly on the table, about a foot away to the right. Gypo looked hurriedly at the spot upon which McPhillip’s eyes were fixed. He saw nothing. He looked back again at McPhillip’s face and wrinkled up his forehead. Then he made a noise in his throat and began to eat once more with great rapidity. He breathed on his food, to cool it, as he put it into his jaws. He made noises. McPhillip stared at the table for a long time. His right hand toyed nervously with the butt of his pistol. His left hand rapped the table. Then a strange sparkle came into his eyes. He laughed suddenly. It was a strange laugh. It made Gypo start. “What’s the matter, Frankie?” he asked in a terrified voice. “Nothin’ atall,” said McPhillip, shaking himself. “Gimme somethin’ t’ eat.” He began to eat ravenously, using his penknife as a knife and fork. He had not eaten for a long time. He did not taste the food but gulped it down at a great speed. Gypo ate also, but he kept staring at McPhillip while he ate. Every time his wandering little eyes reached McPhillip’s eyes they narrowed and became very sharp. Then he would roll his tongue around in his cheek and make a sucking sound. At last McPhillip stopped eating. He wiped his penknife on his trousers and put it into his pocket. “Gypo,” he said slowly, “are there any cops watchin’ our house, the old man’s place in Titt Street?” Gypo shook his head three times in reply. His mouth was full. Then he swallowed his mouthful, he put his fork to his forehead and set to thinking. “Lemme see,” he said at last. “Yeh. They had two cops watchin’ the place until after Christmas. Then they took ’em off. They didn’t put any on since as far as I know, but I believe that a fellah goes around there now an’ again to make inquiries. O’ course they might have secret-service men on it as well. God only knows who’s givin’ information to the Government now, an’ who isn’t. Ye never know who yer talkin’ to. I never in me life saw anythin’ like it. Tell ye what, Frankie, the workin’ class is not worth fightin’ for. They think yer gone to the United States, but all the same it might be dangerous goin’ down there now. I’m sorry I have no money to give ye, so as ye could——”