“Yes, I bet she has,” cried Katie Fox, suddenly settling the matter that was agitating her mind, whatever it was. “I know her. Out with it, Connemara Maggie,” she screamed, jumping to her feet and squaring herself. “Out with it an’ don’t stand there tryin’ to melt butter in me mouth with yer soft looks. How much did he give ye for me? Don’t tell me he only gave me one quid. Yer a liar before ye open yer mouth to say so. Ye——” “Well of all the stories—” cried Connemara Maggie in amazement. “Don’t put on airs, Maggie,” said a woman beside her. “Don’t put on airs.” “Out with the rest o’ the money,” cried Katie Fox. “Yer a pack o’ dogs,” cried Connemara Maggie furiously. “Yer a pack o’——” She gasped and could say no more, astounded and hurt bitterly by the slanderous attack from Katie Fox, to whom she had never spoken in her life before, except to say good morning. She fumbled at her blouse and took out the other pound note that Gypo had given her for herself. Then she took a purse from a hiding-place on her left thigh. She abstracted another note from that. She put back the purse again. She threw the three notes at Katie Fox. “There ye . . .” she hissed. “That’s all his money. Take it. Maybe it’s dirty like yersel’. I am well rid of ye. If he’s yer man, keep him.” She spat and strode out of the room, swinging her arms and knocking out of her way all who came in front of her. Some stared after her and swore. Others looked at Katie Fox. Katie had the three pound notes in her hands and her lips were moving. Then Biddy Burke whispered something to her. Immediately Katie sighed and clutched the three notes in her hand, desperately, staring at the floor. Then she held them out to Biddy Burke rapidly, without looking in their direction. They lay crumpled in a ball on her quivering thin palm. “Take them, Biddy,” she whispered. Then she suddenly raised her voice to an hysterical shriek. “Take them, but for God’s sake hurry and give me something at once. Quick, quick. Give it to me, Biddy. Give it to me.” CHAPTER XI In the Bogey Hole rats scurried about, careless of the sentry who tramped up and down, from end to end of the long stone passage, with his rubber-heeled boots sounding loudly in the cavernous silence. Drops of water gathered slowly on the stone ceilings and then fell with soft, empty splashes to the stone floors. Except for the scurrying of the rats, the falling of the water and the footfalls of the sentry, there was silence.