G K Chesterton

The Man Who Knew Too Much G K Chesterton

This tale begins among a tangle of tales round a name that is at once recent andlegendary. The name is that of Michael O'Neill, popularly called Prince Michael, partlybecause he claimed descent from ancient Fenian princes, and partly because he wascredited with a plan to make himself prince president of Ireland, as the last Napoleon did ofFrance. He was undoubtedly a gentleman of honorable pedigree and of manyaccomplishments, but two of his accomplishments emerged from all the rest. He had atalent for appearing when he was not wanted and a talent for disappearing when he waswanted, especially when he was wanted by the police. It may be added that hisdisappearances were more dangerous than his appearances. In the latter he seldom wentbeyond the sensational-pasting up seditious placards, tearing down official placards, making flamboyant speeches, or unfurling forbidden flags. But in order to effect the formerhe would sometimes fight for his freedom with startling energy, from which men weresometimes lucky to escape with a broken head instead of a broken neck. His most famousfeats of escape, however, were due to dexterity and not to violence. On a cloudless summermorning he had come down a country road white with dust, and, pausing outside afarmhouse, had told the farmer's daughter, with elegant indifference, that the local policewere in pursuit of him. The girl's name was Bridget Royce, a somber and even sullen type ofbeauty, and she looked at him darkly, as if in doubt, and said, "Do you want me to hideyou?" Upon which he only laughed, leaped lightly over the stone wall, and strode towardthe farm, merely throwing over his shoulder the remark, "Thank you, I have generally beenquite capable of hiding myself." In which proceeding he acted with a tragic ignorance of thenature of women; and there fell on his path in that sunshine a shadow of doom