me (Frank mentioned that he had received them from Michael Collins) so, I kept regular appointments with Frank and also with Sam. One day, while I was with Tadg O'Sullivan, Frank Thornton brought us to a spot in South London. It was 1 p.m. then and Frank handed us a bag containing revolvers and ammunition with the instruction to meet him again that night at 8 p.m. in a Pub off Fleet Street. So, here we were, Tadg, myself, and the bag with the revolvers spending the intervening [48] seven hours between dropping in to restaurants and picture houses. Apart from the danger of dragging that load around with us, it was so frightfully heavy that I was scared stiff the bag might break at any minute. So, I said to Tadg, "Listen, if that thing does break, just leave the darn bag and all wherever it drops and you run one way and I run the other!" However, all went fine and that night we got safely to the place of appointment, and I told Tadg to stay outside while I went in. Seeing none of the friends around, I ordered a small port from the barmaid. Then the owner, whom I did not know, came over, spoke to me, and offered me a drink but I insisted on treating him. In a strong English accent he suddenly said, "Well, your friend is late!" I calmly stated that I did not have any appointment with anyone and that I was not expecting to meet anybody. Sure enough, shortly after in came Sam Maguire and Frank Thornton both greeting me. With that the publican triumphantly turned to me and said, "See, I told you, didn't I?" "Yes" I admitted, "but put yourself in my position. Would you have fallen for the manner you approached me?" We had a very good scout working for us during that time and, although I met him several times, his name escapes me now. He was a bright young fellow, about 15 years old, and his father held an important post in the Australian House. So, that night, Sam and Frank told me our scout had been caught twice during the day, once in the vicinity of the house where the man from Cork Barracks was spending his furlough and again later on a return train from Gravesend to London. Consequently, Scotland Yard had grown so suspicious of the boy's evasive story that we assumed they would advise the man from Cork Barracks better to return to Ireland for his own safety, probably suggesting that he take the 8 p.m. Mail via Holyhead to Dun Laoghaire. As it turned out, the guess was completely correct; this was proved later when Sam got that information from one of his contacts in Scotland Yard. I should add here that Sean Cleary (Dingle), who was working in London, had secured a car ready to be used in the completion of the planned, but then aborted, special mission. After we had to call off the whole affair, Frank and Sam [49] took care of the bag with the revolvers, and they departed with Sean Cleary in his car. Then, picking up Mick O'Brien, and after Frank had told us that some Scotland Yard men had spotted and were following Peter and Florrie, I suggested that we all try and jump on a fast moving tram car thus to lose the detectives. It worked, -- we all got away safely and then met again later that same night. Besides the above mentioned special mission, Frank and Sam had been given still another assignment. This was to arrange for the escape of Tom Hales who was held in Pentonville Prison. Michael Collins held a great affection for Tom Hales and was greatly interested in the success of Tom's escape, remembering the inhuman tortured the British had inflicted on Tom Hales and Dan Hart on their arrest. While Mrs. Egan paid regular visits to Pentonville, we were also helped by a friendly warder there. The decisive and greatest help, however, came from Father Eddie O’Sullivan, the Assistant Vice Chaplain to Pentonville. Father Eddie was a brother of the then Sheriff of Cork and also of Jack F. O’Sullivan of the Cork Corporation; and he was an uncle of the previously mentioned Don O'Sullivan, then released and staying with the O'Shea family. I knew Father Eddie and was entrusted to discuss Tom Hales planned escape with him; he was stationed nearby at Eden Grove, Holloway, with Canon Carey as his P.P. (It may be of interest to inject here that the Canon, incidentally, figured in the case of Roger Casement as did Father McCarroll. I knew all three priests.) The escape was planned for 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning. Tom and his friend were to be in the toilets and when the clock struck ten, we would fling a rope ladder over the wall. The three warders, watching the prisoners, would be set on by the rest of our Irish prisoners there while Tom and his pal were to climb over the wall. We would have a car waiting outside the prison in an inconspicuous place with a complete change of clothes for both men so that they could immediately get rid of their convict clothes. Considering that it would be a Sunday morning, in a practically
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