The lieutenant and I went forward and knocked, but no one answered.

We knocked again, louder than before, but still no answer.
"'Open the door, in the King's name!' thundered the lieutenant.
Silence, as before.
"Calling to the marines, he ordered them to root up Phil Doolan's sign-post, and use it as a battering ram against the door.

The first blow of this machine nearly brought the house down, and a cracked voice was heard calling on the saints inside.
"'Blessed St.Patrick!' croaked the voice, 'whativer are ye kicking up such a shindy out there for?
Whativer d'ye want wid an old woman, and niver a livin' sowl in the house 'cept meself and Kathleen in her coffin ?' "'Kathleen is dead, then ?' said the lieutenant with a grin.
"'Save yer honor's presence, she's off to glory, an' as dead as a herrin,' replied the voice.
"'Really!' said the lieutenant, 'and where is Phil Doolan ?' "'Och, yer honor?
he's gone to get some potheen for the wake.' "'Well,' said the lieutenant, 'I should like to take a share in waking the defunct--what's her name ?' "'Kathleen, yer honor.' "'Well, just let us in to take a last look at the worthy creature.' "The door then creaked on its rusty hinges, and we entered.

Not a soul, however, was to be seen anywhere, save and except the old woman herself.

The coffin containing the remains of Kathleen, resting on two stools, stood in the middle of the floor, with a plate of salt as usual on the lid.