Taking
a tip from your tale he posed as a cattle dealer (which is precisely what
he looks like) and of course he never let on that he knew of your
existence--or mine either.
"The result of his enquiries is, firstly--nothing proved against anybody
and no evidence of anything fishy going on in the place. This last point
confirms my own experience, for, as I told you, I haven't yet been able
to associate this particular island with any of the suspicious ongoings
which undoubtedly are happening.
"Secondly, your friend O'Brien turns out to be a gentleman with a failing
for liquor who was sent up by his relations in Ireland about six months
ago to live under Dr. Rendall's charge, there being no pubs in
Ransay--and many in the island he came from. I find that it is by no
means unusual to send thirsty souls to publess isles, and beyond the fact
that O'Brien came up very 'convanient' for this war and is pretty free
with his tongue on the subject of England's sins and shortcomings, there
is really nothing positive against the man. However we are running no
risks, and as we are God and Destiny rolled into one in these islands, we
gave Mr. O'Brien his marching orders and by this time he has presumably
either secured a drink at last or his friends have shut him up in some
teetotal paradise a little further from the scene of war.
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