52 GARRYOWEN 



of hospitality demanded that ten minutes should 

 be spent in pretending to look for them. 



They had fried rashers of bacon — there were no 

 eggs — and tea, and when Miss Grimshaw retired 

 for the night to a stuffy bedroom ornamented with 

 a stuffed cat, she could hear the deep tones of 

 Moriarty's voice colloguing with Mrs Sheelan, 

 telHng her most hkely of the trick he had played 

 on the bailiff man. 



She wondered how far that benighted individual 

 had wandered by this on his road to Cloyne, and 

 what he would say to Moriarty, and what Moriarty 

 would say to him when they met. 



She could not but perceive that the commercial 

 morality of the house she was going to was of an 

 old-fashioned type dating from somewhere in the 

 times of the buccaneers, and she felt keenly inter- 

 ested in the probable personality of Mr French. 



Moriarty she liked unreservedly, and in Mr 

 Dashwood, her fellow-stranger in this land un- 

 known, she felt an interest which he was returning 

 as he lay in bed, pipe in mouth, and his head on a 

 pillow stuffed presumably with brick-bats. 



