It was three minutes past one. Three men, dressed in long raincoats and soft hats, with masks over their eyes, came down the stone stairway. They were immediately challenged by the sentry. One of them mumbled a word casually. The sentry saluted. They walked quickly down the passage and entered the inquiry room. The sentries at the door stood to attention as they entered. They sat down. One of them, he who sat in the middle, threw an attaché case on the table and yawned. They all lit cigarettes and began to talk in whispers, with bored, sleepy voices, hardly opening their lips. They were the three members of the Central Executive Committee who had been appointed as judges for the inquiry. At twenty minutes past one Commandant Dan Gallagher came down the stairs with Mary McPhillip. She wore a dark woolen overcoat buttoned to the throat and belted at the waist. Gallagher was dressed as before. She looked around her in a frightened manner. Gallagher had to urge her along with his right hand that held her arm. When the sentry uttered his challenge she stopped dead, gasped, and put her hands to her lips. Gallagher began to whisper to reassure her. Trembling and clutching at his arm, she was led by him into the inquiry room. He put her sitting on a form and went over to talk to the members of the Executive Committee, who had not got to their feet or taken any notice whatsoever. At twenty-five minutes past one, a hoarse voice was heard at the top of the stairs, yelling the words of a ribald song, while another voice, a hushed one, angrily expostulated. Then there was a savage grunt, an oath, the sound of a heavy body crashing into something that broke with a brittle crack and then Gypo came down the stairs. He came down, slipping on his back, with his arms and legs stretched out, groping at the air. He landed at the bottom with a thud. He sat up stiffly. Then he broke out into an amazing peal of laughter. Men rushed at him from all directions with their revolvers drawn, as quickly as if they had been waiting a long time anxiously for his appearance in that strange manner. But when they saw him sitting there laughing, with his little tattered round hat fallen forward over his forehead, they halted and put their revolvers back into their holsters. “Hello, boys,” cried Gypo. “Here I am. What are ye lookin’ at? I’ll fight any six men that ever walked this earth. Who’s first?” He jerked himself to his feet with one sudden forward movement, by drawing up one heel under him. He stood up, towering suddenly over those about him. They drew back. Mulholland, who at that moment was limping down the stairs with his hand to his right eye, sidestepped quickly with fright as Gypo stood up. He fell headlong past Gypo’s right shoulder into the arms of two men who reached out to receive him. Then Gallagher pushed his way to the front. “What’s the matter here?” he cried sharply. “To your posts, men, quickly. Well, Gypo? What’s troubling you now?”