Chapter 39: Chapter 39

"I'll walk round with you," said Gabriel. You shouldn't be alone after all you've gone

through

"Tom and I are coming as well' said Amy. ''We're not going to miss out on all this.'''

''Amy!!' cried her mother. Sir Thomas is a knight of the realm. You should speak of

him respectfully at all times.''

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''Alright mother, I'm sorry, but his high and mighty thingness wants to come too.

Every time Gabriel goes anywhere he has adventures. We missed out on meeting the

Honourable Adrian Memsworth. And we didn't get down to the docks at midnight

looking for stolen goods, or meeting Detective Jones or talking to that perfectly

marvellous ship's officer. I suppose Mrs Goss is with him right now. And we missed

seeing Mr Gladman's wife throwing him out of his own house, and worst of all we

were'nt there' when he drank a glass of beer while his wife was watching,

''You shouldn't be walking the streets on Christmas day, it's not ladylike, and it's

dangerous.''

''Mother, I will be perfectly safe. I will be with three men. I am not sure about Mr

Gladman but the other two would lay down their lives to protect me.''

''And we will continue to lay them down as long as necessary,'' said Sir Thomas.

''Well, I know about that, but I would feel safer if you had brought your sword and

armour and your horse with you from England. There was plenty of room on the

boat''

''I'm sorry, but my horse died of old age, the armour wouldn't fit, and I pawned the

sword, otherwise, I am at your your service.''

''Well, let's go then.''

The bar door of O'Hanlon's pub was locked but they got in through the entrance at the

other door where lodgers could enter and leave without passing through the bar. A

small, tinkling hand bell stood on the counter alongside a hotel register with only a

few recent entries.

The room keys hung in a row behind the counter on a board screwed to the wall

panelling and each hook had a number above it with a corresponding number on a

cardboard label fixed to the key. The only decoration, apart from the flowered

wallpaper was the engraving of a man's head who looked down on them sternly. The

words underneath said - 'Daniel O'Hanlon - Irish Martyr'. This was O'Hanlon's

paternal great uncle who had defied British Law in Ireland, with fatal results.

No one came, in spite of prolonged ringing and tapping on the counter. Though the

noise had some effect for after a while a hoarse voice in one of the bedrooms was

heard to join in roaring for O'Hanlon to answer the door, but without the desired

result. The publican did not appear.

They tapped and rang some more. During a pause a faint creaking of bedsprings

reached them as though someone was rolling uncertainly out of bed. A pause ensued

long enough for a pair of boots to be laced, a door opened and footsteps were heard in

the passage.

The transition from reception to passage was marked by a pair of narrow, half glass

swinging doors with an incised floral pattern on the glass exactly like the bar doors

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which were opposite the reception counter. Anyone approaching could be seen only

vaguely by those on the other side.

The two doors were pushed open and Gabriel was astonished to see an unkempt

Timothy Flanagan who must have been disturbed from sleep for his hair and beard

were awry and in need of combing. The whites of his eyes were veined with red and

he blinked as he tried to focus them on the intruders.

They stared at one another. "What are you doing here?"

Timothy disarranged his hair even further by rubbing his scalp with the tips of his

fingers and yawned. He said, "Gabby me boy, and friends, there's been the most

unholy bust up in the Flanagan household you ever saw. I'm a runaway and for all I

know Ada has set the police on me to bring me back."

Sir Thomas leaned down and whispered into Amy's ear. ''In few years this is how

Gabriel is going to look when you try to get him out of bed to go to work.''

''You're jealousy is going to get you into trouble,'' she whispered back.''Before you

start talking about other people's appearances have a look in the mirror, if you can

bear it.''

Gabriel glanced from Gladman to Timothy and wondered what effect Christmas was

having on the households of Melbourne; how many more homes were breaking up

during the holiday?

Gabriel introduced his companions and asked about O'Hanlon

"O'Hanlon's here but his missus has gone off over Christmas to visit her sister. We had

a few little drinks last night while we were talking about the old country, then a few

more this morning after he came home from Mass and now he's having a bit of a nap.

Guess that's why he didn't hear you."

"You came here straight from home? Does your wife know where you are?"

"Yes and no, me boy. Like a fool I let something slip about having seen Henry since he

slung his hook, and she tried to get the story out of me but I wouldn't tell her where

he was living. First time in twenty years she hasn't had her own way and she

didn't like it so, to avoid any further unpleasantness over Christmas, I upped traps

and caught an early train from Brighton. and I came here to O'Hanlon's pub and asked

for a bed. I knew a man from the old sod and the darling county would never turn me

into the traps."

Gabriel shook his head over this coincidence. "You remember Mr Gladman. He's in the

same boat. He left his wife this morning too."

Timothy peered closely at the shopkeeper then grasped him heartily by the hand. "It's

the beard!" he exclaimed. "You've lost the wife and your beard at the same time.

Damme if I won't do the same." He rubbed his own ragged whiskers. "Ada and the

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girls can live in Brighton for all I care. If she wants to marry them off to jumped up

clerks they can do it and good luck to them. I only hope they don't trap young Pryor;

though he can't say he wasn't warned. I've told him plenty of times on the quiet to

have a good look at the mother before he took on the daughter. He can do better for

himself than that. Henry and me'll go off on our own because he's worth the lot of

them put together; Ada can carry on as much as she likes, she's not going to put my

boy into an office job."

He patted Mr Gladman on the back. "You look like a man that wants a room and a

drink. We'll go an hammer on O'Hanlon's door and make him give you both, and I

might have a little drink meself too, to keep you company."

Mr Gladman flinched at this mention of liquor but remembered his independence.

Elder Muirhead might get up in chapel and denounce him, but he would never hear

his words. He nodded.

They roused O'Hanlon at last. He was even more dishevelled and puffy eyed than

Timothy. Mrs O'Hanlon would have something to say about his appearance and

behaviour unless he stopped drinking and tidied himself and their room before she

came home.

"You'll have to do the honours, Tim," he muttered thickly after several attempts to get

his eyes back into focus. In response Timothy said to the others, "If ye'll wait a minute

we'll just fix this up, we had a long discussion last night and it's taken its toll. Sit

yerselves in the kitchen and I'll see to him. When we've finished he'll be at his best,

he'll come back as bright as the great Daniel O'Hanlon himself.

He led the publican away down the passage and out to the wash house in the back

yard where he poured several jugs of cold water over his friend's head.

The great Daniel O'Hanlon must have stumbled a lot and had a thick accent and a

headache if the present O'Hanlon was anything like him. After being doused he had

dried his head with the towel that hung in the shed. He then sat at the kitchen table

with his head in his hands until Timothy went to the bar and got some beer and

glasses. Several glasses were required and the man had to concentrate very hard

before understanding that Gabriel was asking him to take in Mr Gladman in as a

lodger.

He looked suspiciously at the music shop proprietor who had a glass of beer in front

of him and was taking sips from time to time in mute but self-conscious defiance of

the absent Mrs Gladman.

O'Hanlon had to hold his head again and sit with closed eyes to think of an excuse to

reject this new and unwelcome application for board and lodging. Mr Gladman was

English, middle class, a businessman, and had brought the police into what O'Hanlon

considered a private quarrel with Benno. According to his philosophy the matter

should have been settled with cudgels or fists. These considerations made the

publican deeply suspicious of the man's intentions in coming to the pub; The enemy

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was within the gates and asking for a room.

"All me rooms is taken," he stated sullenly. Timothy would have corrected him but he

continued hurriedly, "There's a party of miners sent word they're coming in from the

bush tonight and they'll be in town for a couple'a days and that's gunna be all me

rooms gone. Sorry, boss, we just couldn't fix you up with a bed nohow."

"Hard luck," Timothy cried. He had no prejudices in the matter and had been looking

forward to some refined company over the rest of Christmas. The three of them could

have swapped companionable tales about their long years of marriage to dominating

women.

Mr Gladman was taken aback too. He had set his mind on O'Hanlon's establishment

because it was often mentioned in sermons as a haunt of iniquity and a special place

for the Irish troublemakers. Because of his sudden falling away from the faith of the

Brethren he wanted to experience the sinful depths of the establishment for himself.

It was tiresome and disappointing to think he would have to start again and look for a

friendly publican to take him in.

"That's a great shame," said Gabriel. "I think we should call up to the police station

and see if Mr Jones can give us any advice about finding accommodation. We will tell

him that O'Hanlon's place was full and he couldn't give us a room for love nor money.

He might be able to recommend somewhere cheap and clean."

O'Hanlon knew he was beaten. On no account would he wish to have his name

mentioned at the police station nor did he want Detective Jones reminded of his

existence.

He scratched his head. "Well, who knows; them miners might not turn up after all. It

was only a bit of a letter they sent me. They might have got drunk or gone somewhere

else altogether."

He took a key from the board. "Would you like to bring your suitcase, Boss, and I'll

show you a room as good as you'll find in any of them flash hotels, and maybe better."

The door that O'Hanlon opened was well known to Gabriel. He turned to Amy.''This is

the room I used to sleep in after Benno and his mates took me in.''

Amy looked at the room with new interest. ''You poor dear, fancy having to sleep in a

room like this.

''Steady on,'' said O'Hanlon,''It's one of me best rooms.

"This'll do," said Timothy, sitting on the bed. "Break out six bottles, O'Hanlon and

we'll drink 'confusion to the enemy'."

''Which enemy?

''Oh, any enemy you like, just drink. Come on George, bring in your case and set it

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down, this is your new home.''

O'Hanlon looked at his guest. "If the traps catch me serving beer on Christmas Day me

licence'll go for sure." He secretly shook his head at Timothy and indicated with a look

his distrust of Mr Gladman.

"Ah, he'll be alright," said Timothy "Any man that walks out on his missus and the

Brethren on the same day is alright as far as I'm concerned. Just get the bottles, Pat.

They're on me and I'll swear as far up as the Privy Council, if you want me to, that it

was my booze and I brought it from home with me." He felt in his waist-coat pocket

and produced two florins which he laid on a small table by the bed.

''What are you having, Amy?'' Said Sir Thomas

"She's under age," cried O'Hanlon in a panic. If she's caught on the premises drinking

beer I'll do six months hard and lose me licence as well."

"Lemonade," said Mr Gladman. "Give her a glass of lemonade, and it's my shout."

This was another declaration of independence. In all his life he never 'shouted'

anyone a drink, even a glass of lemonade.

Amy was determined to stay. She had been warned many times by her mother, in the

most mysterious terms of the dangers that would beset a girl who set foot in a hotel.

What the dangers were had never been made clear but she knew it would be

shocking. The desire to to enter O'Hanlon's establishment and see sin close up was

very strong.

They sat round the kitchen table and solemnly toasted the day. O'Hanlon listened

intently the whole time, nervous in case the heavy footsteps of the law were heard in

the lobby. He had an open bottle of lemonade on the table especially for Amy and the

bottles of beer stayed in the cupboard until it was time to refill the glasses. He swore

them all to secrecy in case their illicit party was interrupted.

Amy stole Sir Thomas' glass of beer, just to see what it tasted like, it wasn't what she

wanted so she pulled a face and gave it back

''You know what happens to young women who steal another person's beer don't

you?''

''Yes, they get a free drink, but you can keep your old beer, I don't want it.''

O'Hanlon was not the only member of the group abstracted and nervous. After joining

in Mr Gladman sank back into silence and they sat around the table, for a while

without speaking.

Gabriel thought the man might have been pining already for his wife and asked what

was the problem.

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"It's this rebellion that Elder Muirhead keeps talking about, I worry about it," he said,

and would have clutched at his beard if he had had one. "What would become of us if

civil war was to break out in the colony."

"Civil war!" The others sat up to consider this extraordinary statement.

He explained. "Elder Muirhead and the Brethren are convinced that soon there will be

a bloody clash between Catholic and Protestant. He has studied the Book of

Revelation in the bible carefully for many years and there are prophecies in it about a

great battle, Armageddon. Elder Muirhead has read the book many times as well as all

the commentaries and is convinced that Armageddon will take place here in Victoria,

and after we have won the battle there will be a thousand years of peace. You men are

Irish and Catholic, are the Catholics preparing for battle as foretold by Elder

Muirhead?"

O'Hanlon and Timothy looked at each other. "No one's mentioned it to me", said

O'Hanlon. I'll ask around on Sunday before mass. Someone might know about it."

"The man's mad!" said Timothy. "Even if the Micks and the Proddys wanted to have a

fight how the hell would they find the time?"

Everyone was puzzled. "What do you mean?" asked Mr Gladman, staring.

"It stands to reason. In Melbourne they just could'nt spare the time for a battle, let

alone a whole war."

Another drink was called for. It seemed the explanation might be interesting.

"Look at it this way," continued Timothy. "We can't have a decent battle on weekdays,

everyone's at work. On Sundays they're either in church or resting or down at the

beach or having a sleep after Sunday dinner. On Sundays no one would be interested

in fighting a battle."

'What about Saturdays?"

"Saturdays! They're worst of all. If you had your battle on a Saturday you'd upset the

football or cricket; and in Autumn and Spring you got your race meetings, then there's

bike racing, picnics, the beach. I've never read this book of whatever it is you're

talking about but if there's anything about a battle in Melbourne it's got it all wrong.

Anyone wanting to have a battle on a Saturday they'd they'd be about popular as the

rats under the house. We just couldn't fit one in with all the other things that have to

be done. Are you sure it didn't say Sydney? They might be able to make the time for it

up there. Listen, if you can tell me what Saturday is free during the year, I'll tell you

when you can have your battle."

''There's another thing you forgot to mention,'' said Sir Thomas. They all looked at

him. ''In this country no one cares about your religion, except a few extremists like

the Brethren. You can be any religion you like, Protestant, Catholic, New

Calethumpian, just don't force your neighbours to follow your beliefs. And another

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thing, don't spend money trying to convert the Hindus. Their religion is older than

Christianity. and they like it. I met a missionary in India who'd been there thirty years

and hadn't got a single convert.

Mr Gladman thought about this. "Then Elder Muirhead is wrong."

"He's dead wrong," interposed Gabriel hotly. "The man's a dangerous fanatic and

shouldn't be allowed to stir up people the way he does. All this stuff about the bible

and battles and the Irish menace; you'd have to be weak in the head to believe all that

rubbish."

"Thank-you." said Mr Gladman.

Gabriel put his hand on the man's arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way.

''But just think,'' said Amy, ''You will never have to listen to him again. He can say

what he likes but you don't have to take any notice. From now on you can make some

real friends."

"You're right, I will have to make a new life; find somewhere to live, everything will be

different." The man tried to twine his hands in his beard, but it was no longer there,

his hands fell on the table and he looked ruefully at the others.

"Ah, you'll be right!" cried Timothy. "We can live like kings here in O'Hanlon's pub.

No one to tell us when we go out or come in. No one to hide our bottles of drink if

they think we've had enough; not that women understand these things the way men

do. We need a drop in us now and then otherwise we get miserable and hard to get on

with. If women had any sense they'd make sure we had plenty to drink and then

they'd be able to jolly us along, no worries."

Mr Gladman brightened a little. "If there's not to be a war at least I won't have to

command a company. I hate violence and now I am not sure which side would be in

the right perhaps neither."

A thoughtful mood settled on the company for a while after this. O'Hanlon was

listening for the heavy tread of the law in the foyer of his hotel, ready to snatch the

glasses from the table and still concerned at having an enemy, a member of the ruling

class, lodged in his hotel. "All this drink is yours, Tim. You're to say you bought it

yesterday," he said, indicating the few glasses and the solitary bottle on the oil-cloth

covered table. "And you can all see Miss Taylor has touched nothing but lemonade

since she came here. I ask you Mr Gladman have I said a word about beer or offered

her anything stronger than lemonade or ginger beer?"

Mr Gladman was not sure what concerned the publican but had to agree. A little beer

had spilled on the oil cloth and with his finger he idly spread some foam round the

twining pattern of leaves and roses.

"Everything I have ever done has been changed," he muttered. "I wonder if my wife

will let me have my clothes, and I will have to think soon about moving to the new

shop, and I will have Sundays free. What am I going to do on Sundays from now on?"

"Well, at least you won't be having a war," replied Timothy, though perhaps we

should have a battle to liven the place up a bit. Melbourne's a pretty dull old place on

Sundays if you don't go to church, and most of the time it's a damned sight worse if

you do. What d'you say to a game of cards or two to pass the time?"

O'Hanlon was bitter at this suggestion. "Are you tryin' to lose me licence for me?" he

asked heatedly. "If Jones or one of the other traps was to walk in here and find cards

and beer on the table and a minor sitting there too I'd be charged with running a

common gaming house. That'd be the end of me; I'd never get another licence in

Melbourne. I'd be lucky not to go to jail."

Unnoticed by the others Amy had been listening keenly to noises from the passage.

"There's someone out there," she said.

O'Hanlon put the opened bottle of beer on a shelf in the cupboard and shut the

door. In almost the same movement he picked up everyone's glass, empty or not to be

whisked outside to the scullery. There he tipped out the beer and swilled them with

water.

Amy had been right for an insistent tapping was heard on the glass door.

Timothy put his head out and looked up the passage. "There's someone there; I think I

know him. I've seen him somewhere before. Hey, O'Hanlon, you'd better go and see

who it is.

O'Hanlon came in through the back door, returning from the scullery. He looked up

the passage and blanched. "Gawd! I know that hat. It's Jones out there. How did he

know I had people with me?"

"There's someone else with him. You'd better go and see what he wants."

O'Hanlon ran into the kitchen to look for more evidence to be hidden or removed.

"Jesus, Tim, what am I gunna do?" He turned to Mr Gladman. "You wouldn't dob me

in would you, boss? If I lose me licence I'll lose the pub too; that'd be twenty years of

me life up the spout; I don't know anything except running a pub."

Mr Gladman was puzzled by the publican's manner but Timothy said, "Don't you

worry about a thing, me boy. We'll stand by you thick and thin, all of us, won't we

Gabby, and Amy too. She'll tell 'em the plain truth, not a drop of stuff but lemonade.

And don't you worry about Gabby's friend -- he's a Briton. Not a word to hurt you will

ever pass his lips. Now, you'd better go and see what the man wants."

They sat in the kitchen and listened to O'Hanlon's footsteps receding along the lino

floor of the passage. He was heard to open the glass doors and an almost inaudible

conversation followed, then footsteps came closer.

O'Hanlon would have kept the detective out but that keen faced individual followed

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escorting an oddly dressed figure, holding him by the arm above the elbow like a

trophy. Detective Jones's companion still wore a carrier's outfit with a wide brimmed

hat and a long beard. It was Benno.

The detective pushed him through the doorway and stood there in case he should try

to escape. There was no other doorway, only a barred window over the bench

through which one could get a glimpse of the frowsy back yard and the outhouses.

"A cosy party", said Mr Jones looking down on them from the doorway while a

dispirited Benno slunk to one side. The detective appeared to take no further notice

of his captive. "A nice little Christmas party. Just the sort of thing I might enjoy

myself, me being of a convivial turn of mind. I hope you gave your guests plenty to

drink, O'Hanlon. It being Christmas and all, a nice drop of cold beer wouldn't go amiss

among friends.

And the cards," he said. "Cheerful men like Mr Flanagan, and Mr Fox, they're not

averse to a friendly game of cards with you, O'Hanlon; I'll lay a wager, a pound to

sixpence, they wouldn't pass up the chance of a pleasant little hand or two, with a few

shillings on the table, just to make it interesting."

No one responded to this conversational opening so he continued displaying a sort of

official jollity. "And these gentleman?'' He indicated Sir Thomas and Mr Gladman. ''I

believe we haven't met. I know the gentlemen here except you two.'' ''My name is

Detective Sergeant Jones and I would be obliged if you would tell me yours.''

I am Sir Thomas Black, KCMG, my friend is Mr George Gladman, whom you already

know.

Some of the party were taken aback taken aback to find a genuine knight in their

midst, with mysterious letters attached to his name.''You never told us that,'' said

Amy, who was the least awed of those present. What do those funny letters mean?''

''KCMG? They mean Knight Commander of the Order of Saint Michael and Saint

George.''

''Oh la dee dah.'' said Amy. ''Do we throw ourselves flat on the ground before your

magnificence, or will kneeling be good enough?''

''Down on one knee will be sufficient for the moment, but anyone who gives cheek to

a knight of the realm, with letters after his name, will deserve the severest

punishment, and will be taken into custody by detective Jones.''

Jones was not too sure about this claim to be a knight, but at least he looked better

than some of the disreputable characters who had presented emselves to him as

knights, dames, or even members of the nobility.

Detective Jones inspected Mr Gladman closely. "So it is him! The very man and all his

whiskers gone -- well, you've been a bold boy for Christmas haven't you?. "You're wife

is going to part what's left of your hair when she sees you. Isn't it a world of change,

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eh? Why should a respectable shopkeeker, known for his regular attendance at

chapel, choose Christmas Day to shave off his beard? This is another story I would

like to sit down and discuss with you one of these days. Until I heard you were here

this is the last place I would have expected to find you. Either going to chapel or

staying quietly at home seem's more in your line than sitting in the back room of a

pub on Christmas Day. You're a puzzle, Mr Gladman, somehow it doesn't seem in

character, but apart from that I've nothing to say about a man who's held in such high

regard by his neighbours and friends.

He pointed at Amy, ''From her appearance I would say this young lady is less than

twentyone years of age. "What's a minor doing on these premises? don't you care

about your license, O'Hanlon?''

''Of course he cares about his license.'' said Sir Thomas. ''But in what sense has he

broken the law? This is his kitchen, it has nothing to do with his license. Perhaps you

could tell us what law prohibits him from entertaining people privately in his own

home when the bar is closed. And what about children? Are the children of a licensee

not allowed into the hotel where they live?'

''But that young woman is a minor, and no relation to O'Hanlon.'

''You are quite right, both Mr Fox and myself will confirm that she is under the age of

twenty one. But all of Mr O'Hanlon's guests here are prepared to affirm in court that

she has drunk nothing on these premises but a glass of lemonade.''

Jones knew when there was no point in going on. He said, ''I have more important

things to talk about than O'Hanlon's license ''I went to Mrs Byers' boarding house,''

Mr Fox, because I needed a witness and was told you were here with Mr Gladman.

Now I have two witnesses! Very good." He rubbed his hands.

''I needed witnesses because I happened to be taking a little stroll down Queen Street

a while ago and who should I bump into but an old friend of mine." He looked jovially

at the subject of these remarks. "Why, it was that well known man about town,

Seamus Benjamin Murphy, better known as Benno.

My friend Benno is in great demand. Everyone at the police station is keen to see him

again because he left after his last visit without saying goodbye. You shouldn't have

done it, Benno." he remarked while wagging his head at the unfortunate wharf

labourer. Your friends were very hurt when you left without even making time to talk

to the sergeant."

"I didn't want to cause no trouble,"muttered Benno, "so I thought I'd leave for a while

and come back later. I was just on me way up to the station when you nabbed me."

"Of course you were," responded the detective jovially. "I've known Benno for five or

six years," he said, addressing the company. "He always means well; it's just that the

things he does never come out right. He's a man who was born to trouble, weren't

you, Benno?"