Long before these final developments, however, I had sailed for England, and severed for all time my connection with Irish politics in the United States. I had come, as explained, to my father’s dying bedside. Unfortunately for me, I was not in time to find him conscious, and did not reach the house where he lay till the day on which he died. When the sad offices connected with his death had been fulfilled, I turned my thoughts again to home, and set about preparing for another voyage to the States. Everything had been completed for my departure, when I suddenly learned from Mr. Anderson that the Times had approached him with a view of obtaining a witness regarding the American side of the conspiracy. Before this point was reached, I had chatted over my proposal of going into the witness-box with Mr. Anderson, but he had very frankly told me that he had no intention of giving up such a useful informant of his own initiative; and as he had no connection with the Times case, he did not think it likely that any approach would be made to him on the subject.

Matters, however, turned out differently to what he expected, and on the eve of my departure for America I learned that my services might, after all, be utilised, and my desire to drive the truth home given full play. To be effective, however, my coming appearance should be kept a profound secret, and so I appealed to Mr. Anderson to make such arrangements as would allow of this being the case. As a result, I was informed a little later that the Times people had arranged that Mr. Houston should be the person with whom I should deal, and that to him alone should I be known pending my appearance in the witness-box. This was the first mention I had ever heard of Mr. Houston, and it was with no little curiosity I made my way to No. 3 Cork Street in search of the gentleman to whom I bore a single line of introduction. I remember well how, when I was first ushered into his now familiar room by his faithful “Rogers,” I gazed suspiciously at the tall youthful figure which met my view. As Mr. Houston took my letter of introduction from me and carelessly opened it, answering my suspicious glance with a slight smile hovering about his face, I could not help the remark, “Sir, you are a much younger man than I was led to believe I would meet.” The smile broadened into a laugh as the reply came back, “I am sorry, but I cannot help being young, you know. However, I am Mr. Houston.” And so we two people met for the first time.

I informed Mr. Houston that it was always an understood thing on my part that my letters to Mr. Anderson were private property, and that whenever I liked to ask for them they would be at my disposal. Accordingly I had, on learning that my evidence would be accepted, requested that Mr. Anderson should allow me to go over all my documents and select such as appeared necessary for the corroboration of my statements, as well as for the assisting of my memory. To this he had assented, excluding any of the papers which he had made official by passing them on at the time of their receipt. It was then arranged between Mr. Houston and myself that I should get the documents from Mr. Anderson, and go to work at once in the preparation of my evidence. Much to my disappointment, I learnt there was not time for me to make a last hurried trip home, and that if I was to carry out my intention of testifying I should have to be content with the many losses which would result from my stopping in England. One thing, however, I stipulated for, and that was the bringing over of all my family to England before I appeared in the box. I was willing to let all my private affairs go to ruin by my non-return; but I was not prepared to leave my wife and family to bear the brunt of the popular ill-will which would result from what was to follow.

One of the first things I did, therefore, was to cable for my wife and children; and having eased my mind on this score, I went to work with a will in the preparation of my evidence. For ten long working days, Mr. Houston and I waded through the hundreds of letters and Clan-na-Gael documents I had now at my disposal, he taking notes as he went along, and I dictating many items brought to my recollection by the letters I was perusing. We worked in this way from ten to six o’clock each day, undisturbed by visitors of any kind; and when I left him, Mr. Houston, with the assistance of his clerks, worked far into the night, copying the circulars, and transcribing the notes which remained at the end of our day’s work.

On Tuesday morning, the 5th of February 1889, the curtain was rung up, and throwing aside the mask for ever, I stepped into the witness-box and came out in my true colours, as an Englishman, proud of his country, and in no sense ashamed of his record in her service. On what followed I need not dwell. While I was under examination, my old employer, Mr. William Baber of Colchester, was brought into court by the well-known detective Meiklejohn, in order that he might identify me. Nothing, of course, came of the incident; but as I once more saw Mr. Baber, I thought to myself how little he knew of the part I had played at his father’s death-bed. It was in 1884 that I was hurriedly called one day to see a patient who was said to be dying. I found him an old man of eighty, surrounded by his family and friends. In a few minutes he was dead; and finding that all round about me were strangers to the grim monster, I performed the last offices for the body. As I was so employed, the poor people related to me their history, and then I learned to my surprise that the man whose eyes I was now closing in death was none other than the father of my former employer at Colchester, who had emigrated to America some few years previously.

Great as was the sensation produced by my strange and weird but true story, it was as nothing compared to that brought about by the perfect corroboration afforded by the assassination of poor Cronin, of whom I have said so much. Little did I think, when day after day I stood in the witness-box to tell my tale, and morning after morning read the scoffing references of those who believed it not, that in a little while the blood of a murdered Gael would cry out in judgment against those of whom I spoke, and that in the outcome truth would prevail, and the black foul conspiracy be dragged into the open light. Yet so it was; and to-day there are none who question the existence of the murderous alliance to which I testified, and of men within its ranks prepared to obey its leaders, even unto the shedding of blood.