Menton’s office that was, Martin Cunningham said.
Long John Fanning could not remember him.
Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the air.
―What’s that? Martin Cunningham said.
All turned where they stood; John Wyse Nolan came down again.
From the cool shadow of the doorway he saw the horses pass Parliament street, harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering. Gaily they went past before his cool unfriendly eyes, not quickly. In saddles of the leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders.
―What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the staircase.
―The lord lieutenant general and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan answered from the stairfoot.
As they trod across the