Читать книгу Ireland in Travail онлайн

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Finally we reached the hotel just as I was beginning to understand the jarvey’s speech.

“How much?” Himself let the coins in his pocket jingle.

“Four shillings.” The reply was given unblushingly. I could see the hotel porter reckoning his tip.

We had a large room looking down on the main street. A stream of people passed.

“Give a poor old woman a penny, sir,” I heard a beggar woman whine. “Mother iv God! a penny for the poor old woman.” She headed a man off, running in front of him and jerking the head of a wretched baby as she ran. “A penny for the love of God!”

The man escaped to be waylaid by two others.

“What a lot of fat beggars!” I exclaimed.

The chambermaid walked listlessly to the window and looked out. A man in well cut clothes had tossed a penny to the ground, and the beggars had fallen upon it.

“Those men do be spotters,” said the chambermaid for my benefit.

“Spotters? What do you mean?”

“Spies,” she answered briefly.

“How can you tell?”

She sniffed. “They’re not Dublin. They’re military. Will you be taking your breakfast here or downstairs?”