“I left it, Commandant Gallagher, for reasons that are known to yersel’ as well as they are to me.” His voice became passionate and shrill. “I left it because the only one I cared for in this world, outside me old woman, that’s me sister, came to her doom through it. But it’s not for me to judge. It’s not for me . . .” “Very well,” interrupted Gallagher. “You left the Organization owing to a personal grievance. Was that grievance against any particular member of the Organization?” “I bear no fellow-man a grudge,” cried Mulligan solemnly. “You had no grievance against Francis Joseph McPhillip?” “Lord have mercy on his soul,” cried Mulligan, crossing himself with his eyes on the ceiling. “I hope his sorrows are over him.” He turned to Miss McPhillip. “I swear on me immortal soul, Miss McPhillip, that I bore no grudge agin yer brother.” “All right,” said Gallagher. “Well. Tell us what you did after leaving Barney Kerrigan.” “I went back to the house after that. I did another bit o’ work until about eight o’clock. I didn’t do much because fellahs kept comin’ in an’ out an’ me eyes are not as good as they used to be an’ the gas now is a disgrace to the city. But anyhow, I finished the waistcoat. Then I went upstairs to Jim Daly’s room on the third floor. Poor man, he’s sick this three years with bad kidneys. Only for a pension he has outa the British Navy, there’s no knowin’ what ud happen to him, an’ he havin’ no one to look after him but himself, an’ he that delicate. We had a smoke an’ a talk until about ten o’clock. Then I came down again. The old woman had just come in, so we had another cup o’ tay an’ a herring. Then I sat be the fire readin’ a newspaper until about half-past eleven. Then I began to pouch about makin’ ready to go to bed, when three men under Tommy Connor came in an’ put a mask over me face an’ bundled me into a car, without by yer leave, as if I was a criminal. That’s all.” There was a slight pause. Everybody sighed for some reason. “Very good, Mulligan,” said Gallagher. “That will do.” He got up and went over to the judges’ table. The four of them talked for about two minutes. The centre judge read from a paper in a mumbling voice. Another judge took notes, scratching loudly with his pen. There was a pause. Then another discussion in whispers began. Then Gallagher came back to his seat. “Nolan,” he said, quite suddenly, “repeat the statement concerning Peter Mulligan that you made to me in Ryan’s public-house in Titt Street at ten-forty-five this night.” “Yes, Commandant,” said Gypo immediately. He cleared his throat aggressively and rattled off the story about his having seen Mulligan track Francis Joseph McPhillip out of the Dunboy Lodging House. He spoke in a clear, loud and distinct voice, making arrogant gestures and looking straight into Gallagher’s eyes as he spoke.