yle. "Don't I see you standing there grinning at
Constable Moriarty?"

"He's after asking for his dinner," said Mary Ellen.

She referred of course to Mr. Billing. The suggestion that she was
grinning at Moriarty was unworthy of her notice.

"And if he is," said Doyle, "why don't you give it to him?"

"What'll I give him?"

"Give him chops," said Doyle. "And if there's no chops in the house--and
there may not be--run across to Kerrigan the butcher and ask him for a
couple. It'll be quicker than killing a chicken; but that's what you'll
have to do in the latter end if Kerrigan has no chops."

"It was only this morning," said Sergeant Colgan hopefully, "that
Kerrigan killed a sheep."

Mary Ellen crossed the street towards Kerrigan's shop. Constable
Moriarty winked at her as she passed. Mary Ellen was a good girl. She
took no notice of the wink. The sergeant, unfortunately, did.

"Come along out of this, Constable Moriarty," he said. "Have you no
duties to perform that you can afford to be standing there all day
making faces at Mary Ellen? Come along now if you don't want me to
report you."

Sergeant Colgan, though Gallagher insinuated evil things about him, was
a man with a strict sense of propriety. He must have wanted very much
to hear something more about Doyle's guest, but he marched off up the
street followed by Moriarty. Doyle and Gallagher watched them until they
were out of sight. Then Gallagher spoke again.

"If he isn't the Lord-Lieutenant," he said, "and if he isn't the Chief
Secretary, will you tell me who he is?"

"It's my opinion," said Doyle, "that he's a Yank."

"I don't know that I've much of an opinion of Yanks," said Gallagher.
"It's in my mind that the country would be better if there was fewer of
them came back to us. What I say is this: What good are they? What
do they do, only upset the minds of the people, teaching them to be
disrespectful to the clergy and to use language the like of which decent
people ought not to use?"

"It's my opinion that he is a Yank anyway," said Doyle.

Mary Ellen returned from Kerrigan's shop. She carried a small parcel,
wrapped in newspaper. It contained two chops for Mr. Billing's dinner.

"Mary Ellen," said Doyle, "is it your opinion that the gentleman within
is a Yank?"

"He might be," said Mary Ellen.

"Go you on in then," said Doyle, "and be cooking them chops for him. Why
would you keep him waiting for his dinner and him maybe faint with the