The Daltons Volume II Part 69

"My friend!" said Meekins, with a dry laugh. "Since when, sir?"

"Since I have begun to believe I may have wronged you, Meekins," said Grounsell, seating himself at the bedside.

"I see, sir," rejoined the other, slowly; "I see it all. Mr. Dalton has told you what pa.s.sed between us, and you are wiser than he was."

"He has not told me everything, Meekins,--at least, not so fully and clearly as I wish. I want you, therefore, to go over it all again for me, omitting nothing that was said on either side."

"Ay," said the prisoner, dryly, "I see. Now, what did Mr. Dalton say to you? I 'm curious to know; I 'd like to hear how he spoke of me."

"As of one who was well disposed to serve him, Meekins," said Grounsell, hesitatingly, and in some confusion.

"Yes, to be sure," said the fellow, with a keen glance beneath his gathering brows. "And he told you, too, that we parted good friends,--at least, as much so as a poor man like myself could be to a born gentleman like him."

"That he did," cried Grounsell, eagerly; "and young Mr. Dalton is not the man to think the worse of your friends.h.i.+p because you are not his equal in rank."

"I see,--I believe I see it all," said Meekins, with the same sententious slowness as before. "Now look, doctor," added he, fixing a cold and steady stare on the other's features, "it is late in the night,--not far from twelve o'clock,--and I ask you, would n't it be better for you to be asleep in your bed, and leave me to rest quietly in mine, rather than be fencing--ay, fencing here--with one another, trying who is the deepest? Just answer me that, sir."

"You want to offend me," said Grounsell, rising.

"No, sir; but it would be offending yourself to suppose that it was worth your while to deceive the like of me,--a poor, helpless man, without a friend in the world."

"I own I don't understand you, Meekins," said Grounsell, reseating himself.

"There's nothing so easy, sir, if you want to do it If Mr. Dalton told you what pa.s.sed between us to-night, you know what advice you gave him; and if he did not tell you, faix! neither will I--that's all. _He_ knows what I have in my power. He was fool enough not to take me at my word.

Maybe I would n't be in the same mind again."

"Come, come," said Grounsell, good-humoredly, "this is not spoken like yourself. It can be no object with you to injure a young gentleman who never harmed you; and if, in serving him, you can serve yourself, the part will be both more sensible and more honorable."

"Well, then," said Meekins, calmly, "I _can_ serve him; and now comes the other question, 'What will he do for _me?_'"

"What do you require from him?"

"To leave this place at once,--before morning," said the other, earnestly. "I don't want to see them that might make me change my mind; to be on board of a s.h.i.+p at Waterford, and away out of Ireland forever, with three hundred pounds,--I said two, but I 'll want three,--and for that--for that "--here he hesitated some seconds,--"for that I 'll do what I promised."

"And this business will never be spoken of more."

"Eh! what?" cried Meekins, starting.

"I mean that when your terms are complied with, what security have we that you 'll not disclose this secret hereafter?"

Meekins slowly repeated the other's words twice over to himself, as if to weigh every syllable of them, and then a sudden flas.h.i.+ng of his dark eyes showed that he had caught what he suspected was their meaning.

"Exactly so; I was coming to that," cried he. "We 'll take an oath on the Gospel,--Mr. Frank Dalton and myself,--that never, while there's breath in our bodies, will we ever speak to man or mortal about this matter. I know a born gentleman would n't perjure himself, and, as for me, I 'll swear in any way, and before any one, that your two selves appoint."

"Then there's this priest," said Grounsell, doubtingly. "You have already told him a great deal about this business."

"If he has n't me to the fore to prove what I said, _he_ can do nothing; and as to the will, he never heard of it."

"The will!" exclaimed Grounsell, with an involuntary burst of surprise; and, brief as it was, it yet revealed a whole world of dissimulation to the acute mind of the prisoner.

"So, doctor," said the fellow, slowly, "I was right after all. You _were_ only fencing with me."

"What do you mean?" cried Grounsell.

"I mean just this: that young Dalton never told you one word that pa.s.sed between us; that you came here to pump me, and find out all I knew; that, cute as you are, there 's them that's equal to you, and that you 'll go back as wise as you came."

"What's the meaning of this change, Meekins?"

"It well becomes you, a gentleman, and a justice of the peace, to come to the cell of a prisoner, in the dead of the night, and try to worm out of him what you want for evidence. Won't it be a fine thing to tell before a jury the offers you made me this night! Now, mind me, doctor, and pay attention to my words. This is twice you tried to trick me, for it was you sent that young man here. We 've done with each other now; and may the flesh rot off my bones, like a bit of burned leather, if I ever trust you again!"

There was an insolent defiance in the way these words were uttered, that told Grounsell all hope of negotiation was gone; and the unhappy doctor sat overwhelmed by the weight of his own incapacity and unskilfulness.

"There, now, sir, leave me alone. To-morrow I 'll find out if a man is to be treated in this way. If I 'm not discharged out of this jail before nine o'clock, _I_ 'll know why, and _you 'll_ never forget it, the longest day you live."

Crestfallen and dispirited, Grounsell retired from the cell and returned to the inn.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII. A STEP IN VAIN.

Grounsell lost no time in summoning to his aid Mr. Hipsley, one of the leading members of the Irish bar; but while he awaited his coming, difficulties gathered around him from every side. Lenahan, the old farmer, who was at first so positive about the ident.i.ty of the prisoner, began to express some doubts and hesitations on the subject "It was so many years back since he had seen him, that it was possible he might be mistaken;" and, in fact, he laid far more stress on the fas.h.i.+on of a certain fustian jacket that the man used to wear than on any marks and signs of personal resemblance.

The bold defiance of Meekins, and his insolent threats to expose the Daltons to the world, a.s.sailed the poor doctor in various ways; and although far from feeling insensible to the shame of figuring on a trial, as having terrorized over a prisoner, the greater ruin that impended on his friends absorbed all his sorrows.

Had he been the evil genius of the family, he could scarcely have attained a greater degree of unpopularity. Frank's illness--for since the night at the jail his mind had not ceased to wander--was, in Kate's estimation, solely attributable to Grounsell's interference, all the more unpardonable because inexplicable. Lady Hester regarded him as the disturber of all social relations, who, for some private ends, was involving everybody in lawsuits; and the old Count had most natural misgivings about a man who, having a.s.sumed the sole direction of a delicate affair, now confessed himself utterly unable to see the way before him.

To such an extent had mortification and defeat reduced the unhappy doctor, that when Hipsley arrived he was quite unable to give anything like a coherent statement of the case, or lay before the astute lawyer the points whereon he desired guidance and direction. Meanwhile the enemy were in a state of active and most menacing preparation. Meekins, discharged from jail, was living at an inn in the town, surrounded by a strong staff of barristers, whose rank and standing plainly showed that abundant pecuniary resources supplied every agency of battle.

Numerous witnesses were said to have been summoned to give their evidence, and the rumor ran that the most ardent votary of private scandal would be satiated with the tales and traits of domestic life the investigation would expose to the world.

Hipsley, who with practised tact soon saw the game about to be played, in vain asked Grounsell for some explanation of its meaning. There was a degree of malignity in all the proceedings which could only be accounted for on the supposition of a long-nourished revenge. How was he to understand this? Alas! poor Grounsell knew nothing, and remembered nothing. Stray fragments of conversation and scattered pa.s.sages of bygone scenes were jumbled up incoherently in his brain, and it was easy to perceive that a very little was wanting to reduce his mind to the helpless condition of Frank Dalton's.

The charge of a conspiracy to murder his relative, brought against a gentleman of fortune and position, was an accusation well calculated to excite the most painful feelings of public curiosity, and such was now openly avowed to be the allegation about to be brought to issue; and, however repugnant to credulity the bare a.s.sertion might appear at first, the rumor was artfully a.s.sociated with a strong array of threatening circ.u.mstances. Every trivial coldness or misunderstanding between Dalton and his brother-in-law, G.o.dfrey, were now remembered and revived.

All the harsh phrases by which old Peter used to speak of the other's character and conduct--Dalton's constant use of the expression, "What's the use of his money; will he ever enjoy it?"--was now cited as but too significant of a dreadful purpose; and, in a word, the public, with a casuistry which we often see, was rather pleased to credit what it flattered its own ingenuity to combine and arrange. Dalton was well known to have been a pa.s.sionate, headstrong man, violent in his resentments, although ready to forgive and forget injuries the moment after. This temper, and his departure for the Continent, from which he never returned, were all the substantial facts on which the whole superstructure was raised.

If Hipsley saw that the array of evidence was far from bringing guilt home to Dalton, he also perceived that the exposure alone would be a terrible blow to the suffering family. The very nature of the attack evinced a deep and hidden vengeance. To avert this dreadful infliction seemed, then, his first duty, and he endeavored by every means in his power to ascertain who was the great instigator of the proceeding, in which it was easy to see Meekins was but a subordinate. The name of Father Cahill had twice or thrice been mentioned by Grounsell, but with a vagueness of which little advantage could be taken. Still, even with so faint a clew, Hipsley was fain to be content, and after several days'

ineffectual search, he at last discovered that this priest, in company with another, was residing at the little inn of "The Rore."

Having communicated his plan to the old General, who but half a.s.sented to the idea of negotiating with the enemy, Hipsley set out for "The Rore," after a long day of fatiguing labor. "An inaccurate and insufficient indictment," repeated the lawyer to himself; "the old and hackneyed resource to balk the prurient curiosity of the public, and cut off the scent when the gossiping pack are in full cry,--this is all that we have now left to us. We must go into court; the only thing is to leave it as soon as we are able."

It was not till he was within half a mile of the little inn that Hipsley saw all the difficulty of what he was engaged in; for in what way or on what pretext was he to address Cahill in the matter, or by what right connect him with the proceedings? The hardihood by which he had often suggested to a witness what he wanted to elicit, stood his part now, and he boldly pa.s.sed the threshold, and asked for Father Cahill. Mistaking him for the chief counsel on the other side, the landlord bowed obsequiously, and, without further parley, introduced him into the room where D'Esmonde and Cahill were then sitting.

"I see, gentlemen," said Hipsley, bowing politely to each, "that I am not the person you expected; but may I be permitted to enjoy an advantage which good fortune has given me, and ask of you a few moments'

conversation? I am the counsel engaged by Mr. Dalton, in the case which on Tuesday next is to be brought to trial; and having learned from Mr.

Grounsell that I might communicate with you in all freedom and candor, I have come to see if something cannot be done to rescue the honor of a family from the shame of publicity, and the obloquy that attends the exposure of a criminal court."

D'Esmonde took up a book as Hipsley began this address, and affected to be too deeply engaged in his reading to pay the least attention to what went forward; while Cahill remained standing, as if to intimate to the stranger the propriety of a very brief interruption.