‘Secondly, I’m a truthful person, committed to me religion. The Commandments say “thou shalt not bear false witness”. You can believe what you’re hearin’ from me.’

Swallow silently bit his lip. Few subjects were as difficult at interview as religious enthusiasts. Their indignation threshold was always low, and they were always quick to invoke the deity to confirm their innocence.

Nor had any of the G-men made a link between the Flannery family and any of the nationalist organisations that proliferated around the city. The Gaelic Union, established by Canon Ulick Bourke of Tuam archdiocese, was one of the more inoffensive groups. Yet Swallow felt he knew the name ‘Domhnal Ó Flanbharra’ from somewhere.

‘That hardly matters here,’ he countered cautiously. ‘I’m interested to know why you told my men you were at your place of employment at the time your sister was attacked when you had, in fact, left much earlier.’

‘There might have been a misunderstandin’,’ Flannery said. ‘I told Mr Coyle I needed to leave a bit early. I had things to do and I needed a bit o’ time off on Saturday afternoon.’

Pat Mossop’s pencil noisily scratched the responses into his notebook.

‘Why did you want Saturday afternoon off?’ Swallow asked.

Flannery snorted derisively.

‘Not for any reason that you or your kind would understand.’

‘Try me,’ Swallow said patiently.

‘I’m an active supporter of the Irish Land League. No doubt you had your spies at the meetin’ at the Mansion House yesterday afternoon for Mr Davitt’s address. I was goin’ there to be a steward.’

‘I can understand that, Dan, or Domhnal if you prefer it. But would you not consider it somewhat disrespectful to your dead sister to be out at a political meeting while she was being waked at home in Blackberry Lane?’

‘Me sister’s death is for our family to deal with. I’m fortified in that loss by me Catholic faith. An’ me sister’s death doesn’t come between me and me duty as an Irishman who wants to free his country. I’d hardly expect you to understand.’

Swallow groaned inwardly. Someone had rehearsed the young man very thoroughly in the rhetoric of the nationalist movement.

‘You might be surprised at what I understand. You’re entitled to hold your point of view, but I need to know why you lied to the officers who interviewed you. Let me put it bluntly. You could have been at Blackberry Lane when your sister was attacked.’

Flannery raised his head to look him in the eye. His expression seemed anxious now.

‘I couldn’t have been. I did go to the Portobello Bridge to wait for her, but either I missed her in the fog or she started for home a bit earlier.’

‘Why would you go to Portobello to wait for her? That’s a bit unusual.’

‘You won’t believe me, so what’s the point?’