"You can't pass this line," said the sentry. "You must go round by
Broadway."

"Why?" asked Watts.

"The street is impassable."

Watts got out, and held a whispered dialogue with the sentry. This
resulted in the summoning of the officer of the watch. In the mean time
Leonore descended and joined them. Watts turned and said to her: "The
sentry says he's here."

Presently an officer came up.

"An' what do the likes av yez want at this time av night?" he inquired
crossly. "Go away wid yez."

"Oh, Captain Moriarty," said Leonore, "won't you let me see him? I'm
Miss D'Alloi."

"Shure," said Dennis, "yez oughtn't to be afther disturbin' him. It's
two nights he's had no sleep."

Leonore suddenly put her hand on Dennis's arm. "He's not killed?" she
whispered, as if she could not breathe, and the figure swayed a little.

"Divil a bit! They got it wrong entirely. It was that dirty spalpeen av
a Podds."

"Are you sure?" said Leonore, pleadingly. "You are not deceiving me?"

"Begobs," said Dennis, "do yez think Oi could stand here wid a dry eye
if he was dead?"

Leonore put her head on Dennis's shoulder, and began to sob softly. For
a moment Dennis looked aghast at the results of his speech, but suddenly
his face changed. "Shure," he whispered, "we all love him just like
that, an that's why the Blessed Virgin saved him for us."

Then Leonore, with tears in her eyes, said, "I felt it," in the most
joyful of voices. A voice that had a whole _Te Deum_ in it.

"Won't you let me see him?" she begged. "I won't wake him, I promise
you."

"That yez shall," said Dennis. "Will yez take my arm?" The four passed
within the lines. "Step careful," he continued. "There's pavin' stones,
and rails, and plate-glass everywheres. It looks like there'd been a
primary itself."

All thought that was the best of jokes and laughed. They passed round a
great chasm in the street and sidewalk. Then they came to long rows of
bodies stretched on the grass, or rather what was left of the grass, in
the Park. Leonore shuddered. "Are they all dead?" she whispered. "Dead!
Shurely not. It's the regiment sleepin'," she was told. They passed
between these rows for a little distance. "This is him," said Dennis,
"sleepin' like a babby." Dennis turned his back and began to describe
the explosion to Mrs. D'Alloi and Watts.

There, half covered with a blanket, wrapped in a regulation great coat,
his head pillowed on a roll of newspapers, lay Peter