CHAPTER III.

DOGGED BY A DETECTIVE.

NEXT morning we breakfasted with an IrishEnglish clergyman from Norfolk, who told us a story, which had been in the English papers, of a man called Adair, who had bought one of the encumbered estates, and, when a tenant asked for a reduction of rent, presented a pistol at his head, and threatened to shoot him if he did not pay in full. This firm attitude' had been highly praised in a London Conservative paper.

After breakfast we went to look at the Gladdagh, a strange, disorderly collection of miserable fishing huts, and, on talking to the people about emigration, were mobbed by girls who wanted to be sent to America, and entreated us to take their names down for that purpose. Then we went to the gaol, and paid a visit to a suspect who had been taken up at Athenry on the usual charge of intimidation, and inciting to the non-payment of

rent. He came into the visitors' cage straight from 'a game of ball,' and seemed to be having a very good time of it, and only to regret that he was very much missed at home just now, when they wanted his work for the harvest. But he said that the neighbours were very kind, and that they would manage to get it in for him. He had been first arrested for intimidation, been tried, and acquitted; and then, as he stepped out of the gates of the gaol, he had been taken up again as a suspect and detained for an indefinite time. This struck me as an arbitrary method of proceeding, as I did not perceive the use of having a trial if the man was to be imprisoned in any case; but it was explained to me that the object of the trial was to get him sentenced to hard labour; and that, when that failed, the authorities had to content themselves with simple imprisonment. This rearresting at the moment of acquittal has been very widely practised, and seems a very neat application of the principle embodied in the simple phrase, 'Heads I win, tails you lose.'

In the afternoon we hired a car, and drove to a large draper's shop to buy an overcoat, for we were going for a short tour in Connemara, and, as there had been no rain for three weeks, we thought

it must come down before long. We noticed as usual that the police watched the door of the shop as long as we were inside it. Indifferent to this petty annoyance, we drove out of the town, with the village of Spiddal for our destination, at which place we intended to get another car, as our horse did not seem fit for a long journey. Before we had left the town of Galway far behind, we became aware of another car with a single occupant besides the driver, which was hurrying after us and nearing fast. It advanced to within twenty yards of us, and then steadily maintained that distance, trotting when ours trotted, walking when our tired horse insisted for his part on that mode of progression, and stopping entirely whenever we stopped, either to look at an object of interest, or to ask a question of the people of the place. To such an extent did its occupant insist on copying our movements, that when we preferred to walk ourselves he instantly jumped out of his car and walked too ; and we could only conjecture that if we had chosen to stand on our heads, he would have pretended to find that position the most agreeable. Now imitation is often the sincerest form of flattery, and it is conceivable that this was our imitator's only object; but we did not see it in this light, and began to be

seriously annoyed at the persecution. The mere fact of our being dogged by a detective would be a passport to the friendship of the people, but we began to be afraid that, if we conversed with any of them on our way, we should expose them to suspicion, and the same sort of persecution would be practised on them.

While we were walking a little in advance of our car, the detective took the opportunity to ask our driver what was our destination. I turned and asked him where he was going to, and he gave me the same answer which our driver had given him. For the rest of the way he never let us out of his sight for a moment, and on our arrival at Spiddal drew up at the door of the same inn. The reason of this special form of annoyance was that we had now passed beyond the range of the telegraph wire. Hitherto the police had easily kept themselves informed of our movements by its aid, but now they were obliged to have recourse to the more expensive method of a man in a car. We saw that we should furnish occasion to several detectives during our trip for pleasant drives through interesting scenery, but I was sorry to think that the tax-payers' money was being wasted in so useless a manner, as of course all the pay for the

hire of the cars would have to come out of the pockets of the people. This, however, we could not help, and it was evident that the authorities were equally powerless to prevent it, for we knew that Mr. Trevelyan had sent orders to the police to leave us alone, orders which they were systematically disobeying, as the local inspectors have a habit of managing these things according to their own ideas, and entirely without reference to those of the central Government; and it is to their irresponsible action that so much of the odium which the police have to incur is chiefly due.

At Spiddal we met with an unexpected delay. It was market day in Galway, and all the cars had gone into town to market, so that there was no chance of our getting one for another hour or two. The detective was waiting and watching to see what we were going to do. I noticed a bad sore on the horse which had brought him so far, so I went up to him and informed him that I should be back in Galway in a day or two, and should then prosecute the owner of the horse for cruelty to animals if it was driven any more in that condition. He replied that he was returning to Galway at once, and would not allow it to be used again. Meanwhile, to fill up the time, we went down to