independence for his own country? We’ve been an occupied country for three hundred years, you know. And America did exactly the same thing in 1776 to free themselves from the British yoke.”
Mr. Wilkie had to smile at this. “It’s not my place to judge the righteousness of his cause,” he said, “but I am bound to cooperate with my counterparts in Britain and your brother is wanted on a capital charge over there.”
“Do you know what made him come to America?” I demanded and I could hear the belligerent tone in my voice now. “Is it possible he’s seen the hopelessness of the Republican cause and has decided to try for a better life for himself in America, the same as all those other immigrants?”
“If that were true, I’d say good luck to him,” Mr. Wilkie said. “But I’m afraid that we have credible intelligence that he’s here on Republican Brotherhood business.”
“Raising money, you mean?”
“Possibly. The Irish in America are known to be more than generous when it comes to the Home Rule cause. And not just with money. Weapons too. It could be that he’s here to acquire weapons.” He paused. I remembered being involved in smuggling a trunk full of rifles to Ireland, but tried to keep my face composed. “It’s possible, I suppose,” I said.
“But we are concerned it may be more than that,” Wilkie continued. “I mentioned a newly formed anarchist group to you. We have gotten wind that they are planning some kind of coup, and the Irish Republican Brotherhood may be involved.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked.
“Because your brother may well try to contact you, to ask for assistance,” Mr. Wilkie said.
“And if he does?”
“Then I’d like you to let me know.”
“You want me to betray my own brother?” I rose to my feet.
“It’s a question of whether family loyalty should come before the greater good. If this group is planning something that involves the killing of innocent people, for example—where would your loyalties lie then? And how would it look if the wife of a distinguished police captain might be implicated as an accessory if you did not turn in your brother?”
“Would you turn your own brother in to the authorities, knowing that he’d be hanged when all he tried to do was rescue our other brother from jail?” I stood there, hands on hips and really angry now.
“Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement,” Mr. Wilkie said softly. “I may be able to find a way for him to stay here in America, with a new identity—a chance for a new life, if he agrees to give up his connections to the Brotherhood. What do you say—wouldn’t you rather your brother was here safely, able to make a good life for himself?”
“Of course I’d want that,” I said, “but I’m not my brother. That decision would have to come from him. But this is all a moot point, Mr. Wilkie. Liam has not tried to contact me and I think it’s unlikely that he will for the very reason you suggested. He would not want to implicate me in any of his schemes.”
Mr. Wilkie had also risen to his feet. “I’ve taken enough of your time, Mrs. Sullivan, and I’m truly sorry to have caused you any distress. All I can say is that I will do what is within my power to help your brother if he puts himself in my hands. You’ll tell him that at least, won’t you, if he shows up on your doorstep one night?”
“I’ll tell him that,” I agreed. “If he shows up on my doorstep.”
Mr. Wilkie picked up his hat and placed it on his head. “Then I take my leave of you. Oh, and I see no reason to mention this conversation to your husband. He doesn’t know anything yet about your brother’s possible involvement in this matter. Good day to you, Mrs. Sullivan.”
“And to you too, Mr. Wilkie,” I said.
“I can let myself out,” he said and went.
Eight
I slumped back onto the sofa, the wind knocked from my sails. Actually I felt quite sick. He wanted me to work
Mr. Wilkie had to smile at this. “It’s not my place to judge the righteousness of his cause,” he said, “but I am bound to cooperate with my counterparts in Britain and your brother is wanted on a capital charge over there.”
“Do you know what made him come to America?” I demanded and I could hear the belligerent tone in my voice now. “Is it possible he’s seen the hopelessness of the Republican cause and has decided to try for a better life for himself in America, the same as all those other immigrants?”
“If that were true, I’d say good luck to him,” Mr. Wilkie said. “But I’m afraid that we have credible intelligence that he’s here on Republican Brotherhood business.”
“Raising money, you mean?”
“Possibly. The Irish in America are known to be more than generous when it comes to the Home Rule cause. And not just with money. Weapons too. It could be that he’s here to acquire weapons.” He paused. I remembered being involved in smuggling a trunk full of rifles to Ireland, but tried to keep my face composed. “It’s possible, I suppose,” I said.
“But we are concerned it may be more than that,” Wilkie continued. “I mentioned a newly formed anarchist group to you. We have gotten wind that they are planning some kind of coup, and the Irish Republican Brotherhood may be involved.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked.
“Because your brother may well try to contact you, to ask for assistance,” Mr. Wilkie said.
“And if he does?”
“Then I’d like you to let me know.”
“You want me to betray my own brother?” I rose to my feet.
“It’s a question of whether family loyalty should come before the greater good. If this group is planning something that involves the killing of innocent people, for example—where would your loyalties lie then? And how would it look if the wife of a distinguished police captain might be implicated as an accessory if you did not turn in your brother?”
“Would you turn your own brother in to the authorities, knowing that he’d be hanged when all he tried to do was rescue our other brother from jail?” I stood there, hands on hips and really angry now.
“Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement,” Mr. Wilkie said softly. “I may be able to find a way for him to stay here in America, with a new identity—a chance for a new life, if he agrees to give up his connections to the Brotherhood. What do you say—wouldn’t you rather your brother was here safely, able to make a good life for himself?”
“Of course I’d want that,” I said, “but I’m not my brother. That decision would have to come from him. But this is all a moot point, Mr. Wilkie. Liam has not tried to contact me and I think it’s unlikely that he will for the very reason you suggested. He would not want to implicate me in any of his schemes.”
Mr. Wilkie had also risen to his feet. “I’ve taken enough of your time, Mrs. Sullivan, and I’m truly sorry to have caused you any distress. All I can say is that I will do what is within my power to help your brother if he puts himself in my hands. You’ll tell him that at least, won’t you, if he shows up on your doorstep one night?”
“I’ll tell him that,” I agreed. “If he shows up on my doorstep.”
Mr. Wilkie picked up his hat and placed it on his head. “Then I take my leave of you. Oh, and I see no reason to mention this conversation to your husband. He doesn’t know anything yet about your brother’s possible involvement in this matter. Good day to you, Mrs. Sullivan.”
“And to you too, Mr. Wilkie,” I said.
“I can let myself out,” he said and went.
Eight
I slumped back onto the sofa, the wind knocked from my sails. Actually I felt quite sick. He wanted me to work
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