had known the warrant was issued almost as
soon as the police themselves. The accurate
and timely information possessed by the leading
Fenians was sometimes a complete puzzle to the
authorities. They seemed to know beforehand
when and where, and in what force, a search
would be made. The escape of Stephens from
Richmond Bridewell was only one of a series of
proofs that the conspiracy had active and
unsuspected agents in offices of trust. Two, if not
three, years had been spent by Stephens and his
colleagues in preparation. Efforts were made,
often aided innocently by most loyal men, to
obtain situations for confederates in prisons,
hospitals, and public offices. There were
confederates in the camps, in barrack, and in the
neighbourhood of police-stations. The slightest
movement on the part of the constabulary, the
receipt of a letter at an unusual time, the arrival
of a mounted orderly at a guard-house, the
silence and mystery generally observed by men
about to be engaged upon a movement of
importance, were all noted by vigilant, but unseen
or unsuspected watchers. A simple system of
light signals by night, scouts on the tops of hills
during the day, betrayed the line of route taken
by military or police. The uncouth and silent
peasant screening the sand on the mountainside;
the tramp who infested your grounds; the
pedlar with his "lucifers," and song books, and
bits of showy ribbon; the labourer looking for
work with his spade upon his shoulder; the
ragged and shoeless urchin pretending to mind
the sheep; the girl half hidden among the furze
playing with her kid, were all scouts, well-paid
scouts—for a trifle serves as a great bribe where
the wages of a working man are but seven
shillings weekly—doing the bidding of an
unknown agent under pain of death. Chiefly the
leaders sought to place confederates, or persons
likely to be seduced, about the families of
persons holding office under the crown. A word
casually dropped at the breakfast-table would
be repeated in the servants' room or stable-
yard. During the crisis the master of the
household generally stated where he would be
found at any hour of the day, and when he
intended to return. Any movement out of the
routine course was suspected and watched. A
sentence heard at the dinner-table, and most
innocently mentioned in the kitchen, seemed
to have wings. The purport of it, if it
concerned the conspiracy, was known miles away
before nightfall.

A search was made in the room so recently
occupied by the fugitive. Little was found: a
pair of military gloves, two copies of the Irish
People—not the genuine Irish People
suppressed by the government, but an American
publication transmitted in quantities to Ireland,
either separately or folded in the pages of other
New York newspapers. A plank of the floor
had been taken up, and lay on its side against
the wall. Here, it was supposed, "the rifle"
had been secreted. Bedding was tossed up
and carefully examined, with no result. In
passing down the stairs leading to the room, the
lamp held by the sergeant flashed its light upon
a paper affixed to the wall. It was wafered
up, and covered with short pencil strokes,
opposite words written in ink. Under the
words "Head," "Hands," "Fingers," "Feet,"
"Toes," were marks I did not comprehend.
The sergeant knew at once the importance of
the document. These names indicated the
position held by the members of the conspiracy.
The "hands" were superior to the
"feet," but both had authority. The "fingers"
were the "privates" who had been supplied
with arms. The "toes" were unarmed as yet.
The down-strokes indicated the attendance at
drill.

"There is evidence here to hang him, if he's
caught," said the sergeant. "A document like
this we do not often find."

So the very man whom we had, until lately,
trusted most, and who was thoroughly
acquainted with the whole tenor of our lives, was
the chief organiser and paymaster of the Fenians
in our district!

Before mid-day on Monday we knew all.
They amongst whom we lived, and who never
had uttered one word of warning, were voluble
in offering information now. Every one knew
something about Fitzpatrick, and came to tell
it. On holidays, or in the evenings after the
hours of work, "our man" drilled his recruits
among the sand-hills, or seduced and swore men
in at the canteen. He reviewed his levies and
distributed pay, on starry nights, at the edges
of the moor. Now was explained why we often
heard the sound of horses' hoofs so late at night,
and why our ponies appeared exhausted and
spiritless in the morning.

Five arrests were made early in the morning
of Fitzpatrick's flight. Two publicans, who had
a thriving trade, disappeared, without informing
their nearest relatives why, or whither—at least,
so they said. The whole district was in
commotion, and every labourer was suspected, or
professed to hold others in suspicion. I sent
my family up to Dublin, although we were
guarded more securely than we had reason to
suppose. Our children told us how they had
seen "the sergeant and his men" lying flat
among the trees around the house by night.
My wife and daughters found that, on their
visits to the village, men of soldier-like bearing,
but in civilians' clothes, hovered near them.
Often I hailed and spoke to the patrol, who
appeared to rise up out of the earth. Our
servants, however, gave warning, and we feared
to engage others. The lodge-keeper alone
stood his ground, and kept the house with
me.

Gradually the alarm through the district
subsided. Arrests were no longer made, and not
the slightest injury was done to person or
property. I had my family safe in Dublin, and my
mind was free. Six days before the rising there
had not existed with us the slightest suspicion
that an outbreak was intended. The military
authorities and police thought otherwise, and
they were right. The precautions taken by the