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By that time the district had realised that Terry O'Ryan had surrendered to what they called "the laying on of hands" by Molly Mackinder. It was not certain, however, that the surrender was complete, because O'Ryan had been wounded before, and yet had not been taken captive altogether.
If he has to sit up nights to do it, he'll try to get back on O'Ryan. He'll sit up nights, but he'll do it, if he can. And, whatever it is, it won't be pretty." Outside the door they met Gow Johnson, excitement in his eyes. He heard Fergus' last words. "He'll see Orion rising if he sits up nights," Gow Johnson said. "The game is with Terry at last."
O'Ryan got his cue, and came on to an outburst of applause which shook the walls. La Touche rose at him, among them Miss Molly Mackinder in the front row with the notables. He did not see the back curtain, or Orion blazing in the ultramarine blue.
Armine, Doctor Isaacson," said Lady O'Ryan, who was sitting on the Doctor's other side, and had caught part of this conversation. "You know I am always in County Clare, and as ignorant as a violet. Who is he exactly?" "A younger brother of Harwich's, and the next heir to the title."
"Did the prisoner make a statement after his arrest?" "No, sir; he came along peaceably enough, hardly a word out of him," acknowledged O'Ryan regretfully. He enjoyed a reputation on the force as a "scrapper," and a willing prisoner was a disappointment to his naturally pugnacious disposition. "Did you search the house?"
After listening for a moment, O'Ryan was to creep up the stage again towards the back curtain, giving a cue for his appearance. When the hilarious applause at his entrance had somewhat subsided, the three took up their parable, but it was not the parable of the play. They used dialogue not in the original.
He guessed that Terry had ridden away into the night to work off the dark spirit that was on him, to have it out with himself. Gow Johnson was a philosopher. He was twenty years older than O'Ryan, and he had studied his friend as a pious monk his missal. He was right in his judgment.
"In all the wide border his steed was the best," and the name and fame of Terence O'Ryan were known from Strathcona to Qu'appelle. He had ambition of several kinds, and he had the virtue of not caring who knew of it.
The people had had more than the worth of their money. In a few moments the stage was crowded with people from the audience, but both Jopp and O'Ryan had disappeared. Among the visitors to the stage was Molly Mackinder. There was a meaning smile upon her face as she said to Dicky Fergus: "It was quite wonderful, wasn't it like a scene out of the classics the gladiators or something?"
I feel it in my blood. I must have imbibed it with my mother's milk. No use for Conservative Catholics to kick against it. We are too few, and we are bound hand and foot." So did the Galway man deliver himself. I was reminded of Mr. O'Ryan, of Larne, a devoted Catholic, who said, "I protest from my innermost heart against Home Rule.
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