CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTORY My sporting associate and occasional client, Mr.
Patrick Murphy, opened the door Belfast Office about twelve inches,
inched himself through the aperture, and seating himself on the extreme
edge of a chair, regarded me anxiously. I had seldom seen him so
serious. The humorous twinkle in his eye was quenched momentarily for
the first time in our acquaintance. I suppose ye hadnt time since mornin
to look intil that, he said, nodding his head towards a pile of
manuscript on my desk. Im sorry to say I hid, Pat, I answered. In fact,
I read it all through. An what might ye think av it he asked cautiously.
I think well print it, Pat, said I. But I want to know first if its all
your own. Every word av it, Misther Doyle, . he said. Who wrote it all
out for you then, Pat I said. Its not in your hand surely Ye may swear
that, he answered. I wasnt that long at school. Wait an Ill tell you the
whole story I was strollin along the road at me aise wan Sathurday
afthernoon last October, when I heard the tootin av a horn behind me.
Pat, sez I to meself, Yed betther take to the ditch till that fellow
gets by for the same ginthry is no ways particular who they run down,
from a hen till a human bein. So I tuk in to the side av the road, an
twas well I did. Round the corner wi a whizz comes a fellow on a motor
bicycle, shoots clear av me be about six inches, gives a couple av bad
wobbles, an round the nixt bend in a cloud av dust, lavin a stink behind
him fit to throw a thrain off the lines. Bad luck to ye, an the whole
breed av ye, sez I, stampin and spittin for youre the curse av dacint
counthry people that the roads was made for. A bad end to you an your
ould machine anyway. Twas only an idle word av mine, but ye niver seen
an ill wish come sooner to roost. I wasnt more than a couple of hundhred
yards furdher on till I come on him sittin in the ditch. He got up very
shaky lookin as I come near him. beg your pardon, sir, sez he, very
polite, but would you mind givin me a shove -I got off, sez he. I could
see that. He had rowled over a couple av times on the road aftherwards,
too but whin he said nothin about that, neither did I. The bicycle was
lyin again the side av the ditch, stihkin away as busy as it could but
there was a kind av a publichouse whiff in the air, too, that I couldnt
well blame on it. I took a hard look at the fellow an give a sniff or
two, an it come into me mind at he was no teetotaler. Me heart softened
till him a bit. Its bad enough, thinks I, to be over- taken in drink wi
a horse an cart but whin it comes to a mothor bicycle it must be the
very divil. Come on then, sez I to the fellow. But if Id ha been you, I
wouldnt ha got off. I dont know how ye got on at the start, but ye
should ha kept at it. Up wi ye, So I gets the machine out av the ditch,
grips the handle wi me left hand, and gives him a powerful shove wi the
right. Away ye go sez I. But I was wrong. To this day I dont know what
wint asthray but whin I riz out av the ditch me boy was lying undher the
machine in the middle av the road. Up I gets, pulls the machine off him,
an gets him on his feet. He was in a lamentable state wi dust an bits av
sticks, an the sate av his breeches all soakin where the paraffin had a
seeped out av the till tank. That was a bad start, sez he, lookin at me
very sayrious. It was, sez I, mortial bad. But itll make a brave finish
if yell let it..
