He nodded curtly to Mr Hynes and sat down on the chair which the old man vacated.
`Did you serve Aungier Street?' he asked Mr O'Connor.
`Yes,' said Mr O'Connor, beginning to search his pockets for memoranda.
`Did you call on Grimes?'
`I did.'
`Well? How does he stand?'
`He wouldn't promise. He said: "I won't tell anyone what way I'm going to vote." But
I think he'll be all right.'
`Why so?'
`He asked me who the nominators were; and I told him, I mentioned Father Burke's
name. I think it'll be all right.'
Mr Henchy began to snuffle and to rub his hands over the fire at a terrific speed. Then
he said:
`For the love of God, Jack, bring us a bit of coal. There must be some left.'
The old man went out of the room.
`It's no go,' said Mr Henchy, shaking his head. `I asked the little shoeboy, but he said:
"O, now, Mr Henchy, when I see the work going on properly I won't forget you, you
may be sure." Mean little tinker! 'Usha, how could he be anything else?'
`What did I tell you, Mat?' said Mr Hynes. `Tricky Dicky Tierney.'
`O, he's as tricky as they make `em,' said Mr Henchy. `He hasn't got those little pig's
eyes for nothing. Blast his soul! Couldn't he pay up like a man instead of: "O, now Mr
Henchy, I must speak to Mr Fanning... I've spent a lot of money." Mean little
schoolboy of hell! I suppose he forgets the time his little old father kept the hand-me-
down shop in Mary's Lane.'
`But is that a fact?' asked Mr O'Connor.
`God, yes,' said Mr Henchy. `Did you never hear that? And the men used to go in on
Sunday morning before the houses were open to buy a waistcoat or a trousers - moya!
But Tricky Dicky's little old father always had a tricky little black bottle up in a
corner. Do you mind now? That's that. That's where he first saw the light.'
The old man returned with a few lumps of coal which he placed here and there on the
fire.
`That's a nice how-do-you-do,' said Mr O'Connor. `How does he expect us to work for
him if he won't stump up?'
`I can't help it,' said Mr Henchy. `I expect to find the bailiffs in the hall when I go
home.'
Mr Hynes laughed and, shoving himself away from the mantelpiece with the aid of
his shoulders, made ready to leave.
`It'll be all right when King Eddie comes,' he said. `Well, boys, I'm off for the present.
See you later. `Bye, 'bye.'
He went out of the room slowly. Neither Mr Henchy nor the old man said anything,
but, just as the door was closing, Mr O'Connor, who had been staring moodily into the
fire, called out suddenly:
`'Bye, Joe.'
Mr Henchy waited a few moments and then nodded in the direction of the door.
`Tell me,' he said across the fire, `what brings our friend in here? What does he want?'
`'Usha, poor Joel' said Mr O'Connor, throwing the end of his cigarette into the fire,
`he's hard up, like the rest of us.'
Mr Henchy snuffled vigorously and spat so copiously that he nearly put out the fire,
which uttered a hissing protest.
`To tell you my private and candid opinion,' he said. `I think he's a man from the other
camp. He's a spy of Colgan's, if you ask me. Just go round and try and find out how
they're getting on. They won't suspect you. Do you twig?'
`Ah, poor Joe is a decent skin,' said Mr O'Connor.
`His father was a decent, respectable man,' Mr Henchy admitted. `Poor old Larry
Hynes! Many a good turn he did in his day! But I'm greatly afraid our friend is not
nineteen carat. Damn it, I can understand a fellow being hard up, but what I can't
understand is a fellow sponging. Couldn't he have some spark of manhood about
him?'
`He doesn't get a warm welcome from me when he comes, said the old man. `Let him
work for his own side and not come spying around here.'
`I don't know,' said Mr O'Connor dubiously, as he took out cigarette-papers and
tobacco. `I think Joe Hynes is a straight man. He's a clever chap, too, with the pen. Do
you remember that thing he wrote... ?'
`Some of these hillsiders and fenians are a bit too clever if you ask me,' said Mr
Henchy. `Do you know what my private and candid opinion is about some of those
little jokers? I believe half of them are in the pay of the Castle.'
`There's no knowing,' said the old man.
`O, but I know it for a fact,' said Mr Henchy. `They're Castle hacks... I don't say
Hynes... No, damn it, I think he's a stroke above that... But there's a certain little
nobleman with a cock-eye - you know the patriot I'm alluding to?'
Mr O'Connor nodded.
`There's a lineal descendant of Major Sirr for you if you like! O, the heart's blood of a
patriot! That's a fellow now that'd sell his country for fourpence - ay - and go down on
his bended knees and thank the Almighty Christ he had a country to sell.'
There was a knock at the door.
`Come in!' said Mr Henchy.
A person resembling a poor clergyman or a poor actor appeared in the doorway. His
black clothes were tightly buttoned on his short body and it was impossible to say
whether he wore a clergyman's collar or a layman's, because the collar of his shabby
frock-coat, the uncovered buttons of which reflected the candle-light, was turned up
about his neck. He wore a round hat of hard black felt. His face, shining with
raindrops, had the appearance of damp yellow cheese save where two rosy spots
indicated the cheek-bones. He opened his very long mouth suddenly to express
disappointment and at the same time opened wide his very bright blue eyes to express
pleasure and surprise.
`O, Father Keon!' said Mr Henchy, jumping up from his chair. `Is that you? Come in!'
`O, no, no, no,' said Father Keon quickly, pursing his lips as if he were addressing a
child.
`Won't you come in and sit down?'
`No, no, no!' said Father Keon, speaking in a discreet, indulgent, velvety voice. `Don't
let me disturb you now! I'm just looking for Mr Fanning... '
`He's round at the Black Eagle,' said Mr Henchy. `But won't you come in and sit
down a minute?'
`No, no, thank you. It was just a little business matter, said Father Keon. `Thank you,
indeed.'
He retreated from the doorway and Mr Henchy, seizing one of the candlesticks, went
to the door to light him downstairs.
`O, don't trouble, I beg!'
`No, but the stairs is so dark.'
`No, no, I can see... Thank you, indeed.'
`Are you right now?'
`All right, thanks... Thanks.'
Mr Henchy returned with the candlestick and put it on the table. He sat down again at
the fire. There was silence for a few moments.
`Tell me, John,'said Mr O'Connor, lighting his cigarette with another pasteboard card.
`Hm?'
`What is he exactly?'
`Ask me an easier one,' said Mr Henchy.
`Fanning and himself seem to me very thick. They're often in Kavanagh's together. Is
he a priest at all?'
`Mmmyes, I believe so... I think he's what you call a black sheep. We haven't many of
them, thank God! but we have a few... He's an unfortunate man of some kind... '
`And how does he knock it out?' asked Mr O'Connor.
`That's another mystery.'
`Is he attached to any chapel or church or institution or--'
`No,' said Mr Henchy, `I think he's travelling on his own account... God forgive me,'
he added, `I thought he was the dozen of stout.'
`Is there any chance of a drink itself?' asked Mr O'Connor.
`I'm dry too,' said the old man.
`I asked that little shoeboy three times,' said Mr Henchy, would he send up a dozen of
stout. I asked him again now, but he was leaning on the counter in his shirt-sleeves
having a deep goster with Alderman Cowley.
`Why didn't you remind him?' said Mr O'Connor.
`Well, I wouldn't go over while he was talking to Alderman Cowley. I just waited till
I caught his eye, and said: "About that little matter I was speaking to you about... "
"That'll be all right, Mr H.," he said. Yerra, sure the little hop-o'-my-thumb has
forgotten all about it.'
`There's some deal on in that quarter,' said Mr O'Connor thoughtfully. `I saw the three
of them hard at it yesterday at Suffolk Street corner.'
`I think I know the little game they're at,' said Mr Henchy. `You must owe the City
Fathers money nowadays if you want to be made Lord Mayor. Then they'll make you
Lord Mayor. By God! I'm thinking seriously of becoming a City Father myself. What
do you think? Would I do for the job?'
Mr O'Connor laughed.
`So far as owing money goes... '
`Driving out of the Mansion House,' said Mr Henchy, `in all my vermin, with Jack
here standing up behind me in a powdered wig - eh?'
`And make me your private secretary, John.'
`Yes. And I `ll make Father Keon my private chaplain. We'll have a family party.'
`Faith, Mr Henchy,' said the old man, `you'd keep up better style than some of them. I
was talking one day to old Keegan, the porter. "And how do you like your new
master, Pat?" says I to him. "You haven't much entertaining now," says I.
"Entertaining!" says he. "He'd live on the smell of an oil-rag." And do you know what
he told me? Now, I declare to God, I didn't believe him.'
`What?' said Mr Henchy and Mr O'Connor.
`He told me: "What do you think of a Lord Mayor of Dublin sending out for a pound
of chops for his dinner? How's that for high living?" says he. "Wisha! wisha," says I.
"A pound of chops," says he, "coming into the Mansion House." "Wisha!" says I,
"what kind of people is going at all now?"'
At this point there was a knock at the door, and a boy put in his head.
`What is it?' said the old man.
`From the Black Eagle,' said the boy, walking in sideways and depositing a basket on
the floor with a noise of shaken bottles.
The old man helped the boy to transfer the bottles from the basket to the table and
counted the full tally. After the transfer the boy put his basket on his arm and asked:
`Any bottles?'
`What bottles?' said the old man.
`Won't you let us drink them first?' said Mr Henchy.
`I was told to ask for the bottles.'
`Come back tomorrow,' said the old man.
`Here, boy!' said Mr Henchy, `will you run over to O'Farrell's and ask him to lend us a
corkscrew - for Mr Henchy, say. Tell him we wont keep it a minute. Leave the basket
there.'
The boy went out and Mr Henchy began to rub his hands cheerfully, saying:
`Ah, well, he's not so bad after all. He's as good as his word, anyhow.'
`There's no tumblers,' said the old man.
`O, don't let that trouble you, Jack,' said Mr Henchy. `Many's the good man before
now drank out of the bottle.'
`Anyway, it's better than nothing,' said Mr O'Connor.
`He's not a bad sort,' said Mr Henchy, `only Fanning has such a loan of him. He
means well, you know, in his own tinpot way.'
The boy came back with the corkscrew. The old man opened three bottles and was
handing back the corkscrew when Mr Henchy said to the boy:
`Would you like a drink, boy?'
`If you please, sir,' said the boy.
The old man opened another bottle grudgingly, and handed it to the boy.
`What age are you?' he asked.
`Seventeen,' said the boy.
As the old man said nothing further, the boy took the bottle, said: `Here's my best
respects, sir, to Mr Henchy,' drank the contents, put the bottle back on the table and
wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Then he took up the corkscrew and went out of the
door sideways, muttering some form of salutation.
`That's the way it begins,' said the old man.
`The thin edge of the wedge,' said Mr Henchy.
The old man distributed the three bottles which he had opened and the men drank
from them simultaneously. After having drunk each placed his bottle on the
mantelpiece within hand's reach and drew in a long breath of satisfaction.
`Well, I did a good day's work today,' said Mr Henchy, after a pause.
`That so, John?'
`Yes. I got him one or two sure things in Dawson Street, Crofton and myself.
Between ourselves, you know, Crofton (he's a decent chap, of course), but he's not
worth a damn as a canvasser. He hasn't a word to throw to a dog. He stands and looks
at the people while I do the talking.'
Here two men entered the room. One of them was a very fat man, whose blue serge
clothes seemed to be in danger of falling from his sloping figure. He had a big face
which resembled a young ox's face in expression, Staring blue eyes and a grizzled
moustache. The other man, who was much younger and frailer, had a thin, clean-
shaven face. He wore a very high double collar and a wide-brimmed bowler hat.
`Hello, Crofton!' said Mr Henchy to the fat man. `Talk of the devil... '
`Where did the booze come from?' asked the young man. `Did the cow calve?'
`O, of course, Lyons spots the drink first thing!' said Mr O'Connor, laughing.
`Is that the way you chaps canvass,' said Mr Lyons, `and Crofton and I out in the cold
and rain looking for votes?'
`Why, blast your soul,' said Mr Henchy, `I'd get more votes in five minutes than you
two'd get in a week.'
`Open two bottles of stout, Jack,' said Mr O'Connor.
`How can I?' said the old man, `when there's no corkscrew?'
`Wait now, wait now!' said Mr Henchy, getting up quickly. `Did you ever see this
