Swallow smiled. ‘I’m a man used to surprises.’

Flannery started to knead his fingers. It was perhaps the first sign of stress, Swallow reckoned.

‘It was that priest,’ Flannery said. ‘She told me he was botherin’ her. Every night as she walked home he’d appear alongside her, and he’d want to walk her along the Rathmines Road. It wasn’t right. I wanted to see him off. He’s unfitted to wear the holy cloth.’

‘What priest?’

‘Cavendish. He was botherin’ her.’

‘Father Cavendish from the parish church? Was there some incident, an event?’

‘No, not as such. But there was a lot a’ small things that were wrong. He was too much interested in her. I wanted to let him know that I knew that. To warn him off. So I wanted to be there for her as she came home. To see her all right. She was a good girl. She shouldn’t have had to resist occasions of sin.’

‘Occasions of sin?’ Swallow asked.

‘Yes.’ Flannery became momentarily agitated. ‘That’s an occasion where sin might be committed. But even if it isn’t, placin’ oneself in that situation is itself a sin.’

Swallow’s mind went back to some catechism diktat he remembered from school days.

‘So what happened on Friday night?’

‘I left work and went to Portobello Bridge, waitin’ for her. But I must have missed her in the fog. I never saw her. So I went for a good walk along the canal. I do that sometimes after work for relaxation. I met a friend at Huband Bridge, and we talked for a bit, then I went home. When Alice wasn’t home and me mother was getting’ upset, I went to the police station in Rathmines and said she was missin’. They said she was in Baggot Street Hospital. So I went down there and found her.’

‘Did you meet anyone else along Rathmines Road or Blackberry Lane? Anyone who might have been the attacker?’

‘No. The priest never appeared. I saw the last tram from the city go by, but nobody else.’

Swallow and Mossop exchanged glances. If Dan Flannery was telling the truth about being on Huband Bridge, a good mile away from the crime scene, it was likely that the rest of his story was true. The alibi would have to be checked.

‘Who did you meet?’ Mossop asked. ‘And an address for that person please.’

‘It was Mr Bradley. Geoffrey Bradley. He’s a teacher at the Christian Brothers in Synge Street. He taught me while I was there. I don’t know his address, but you’ll get him at the school and he’ll confirm that he saw me.’

‘We’ll look into that,’ Swallow said cautiously. ‘Tell me about your sister. What sort of girl was she? Did you get on well with her?’

Flannery’s eyes moistened slightly.