‘Please leave my office, both of you,’ he said coldly. ‘The under-secretary will hear of this. So will Commissioner Harrel. I don’t believe that in almost thirty years of Crown service I’ve ever encountered such wilful obstruction of superior authority. When word of this reaches the cabinet in London, as it will, you will be lucky to retain your posts.’

Mallon was equally cold.

‘Mr Smith Berry, Detective Inspector Swallow and I are doing our duty to the best of our abilities. We have both taken an oath to preserve Her Majesty’s peace in Ireland. Irishmen do not make that solemn undertaking lightly, and we are obliged to honour it. I don’t especially worry who you report to about what has transpired here today, and if it displeases important people at Westminster that cannot be helped, although it is to be regretted. But I would ask you please to bear in mind that I myself am not without influence in the highest political circles.’ He paused. ‘And in the press.’

Smith Berry’s jaw dropped. For a moment, he struggled for speech. Then he pointed to the door, his hand trembling in anger.

‘Out,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Get out . . . get out.’

They made their way through the outer office and down the staircase. A blast of chilly air coming up from the river swept across the Upper Yard.

‘Jesus, Swallow,’ Mallon said quietly once they were in the open space. ‘You believe in living dangerously.’

‘You’re doing a bit of risk-taking yourself, chief. Threatening Smith Berry with the press is fairly raising the stakes, I’d have thought.’

‘A bit, I suppose. But it’s one thing the frocks are terrified of. You know, a line of adverse comment in any of the newspapers, especially the London ones, sends them into total panic.’

Mallon stopped in his stride.

‘It’s true though about the risks, Swallow. We live dangerously in G-Division. We’re Irishmen reporting to Englishmen who don’t understand the difference between the two races. It’s too late for me to do anything else with my life, even if I wanted to. But you’re younger and you have choices. I told you before. Marry that good woman with her fine public house in Thomas Street. The way things are going you might never see your pension.’

They descended to the Lower Yard and found the entrance into Exchequer Court. Swallow wondered if what Mallon had just said gave him an opportunity to tell him that he was, indeed, going to marry Maria. In fact, police regulations required that he should seek permission and have his superintendent’s approval to enter into matrimony. But it might turn into a longer conversation than he needed now. He decided to leave it for another time.

‘How’s the murder inquiry coming along?’ Mallon asked.