The Red Hand of Ulster Part 2

"You won't like him," said Bob. "He's--well, domineering is the only word I can think of."

"For that matter," said Conroy, "I am domineering too."

This was true. Conroy had good manners, unusually good manners for a millionaire, but underneath the manners lay a determination to get his own way in small matters as well as great. Bob, who knew both men, expected that they would become deadly enemies in the course of twenty-four hours. He was mistaken. To say that they became friends would be misleading. They probably disliked each other. But they certainly became allies, planned together and worked together the amazing scheme which ended in the last--we are justified in a.s.suming that it really was the last--rebellion of Irishmen against the power of England.

Conroy supplied the money and a great deal of the brains which went to the carrying through of the plan. He had, as a financier with world-wide interests, a knowledge of European markets and manufactures which was very useful if not absolutely necessary. He had, as his inspiration, an extraordinarily vivid hatred of England. This was partly an inheritance from his Irish ancestors, men who had been bullied for centuries and laid the blame of their sufferings on England. Partly it was the result of the contempt he learned to feel for Englishmen while he held his leading position in London society.

With McNeice's violent Protestantism he never can have had the smallest sympathy. His ancestors were probably, almost certainly, Roman Catholics. If he professed any form of Christianity it must have been that of some sect unrepresented in England. No one ever heard of his attaching himself, even temporarily, to either church or chapel.

McNeice also supplied brains and enthusiasm. His intelligence was narrower than Conroy's, but more intensely concentrated. He knew the men with whom he intended to deal. By birth and early education he belonged to that north Irish democracy which is probably less imaginative and less reasonable but more virile than any other in the world. He believed, as his fathers had believed before him and his relations believed along with him, that the Belfast man has a natural right to govern the world, and only refrains from doing so because he has more important matters to attend to. He believed, and could give excellent reasons in support of his belief, that the other inhabitants of Ireland were meant by providence to be Gibeonites, hewers of wood and drawers of water for the people of Antrim and Down. He had quite as great a contempt for the Unionist landlords, who occasionally spoke beside him on political platforms, as he had for the Nationalist tenants who were wrestling their estates from them.

Bob Power went to Dublin, and with great difficulty persuaded McNeice to pay Conroy a visit in London. For a fortnight the two men remained together, discussing, planning, devising. Others, among them James Crossan, manager of the Kilmore Co-operative Stores, and Grand Master of the Orangemen of the county, were summoned to the conference.

Then the first steps were taken. McNeice went back to Ireland and began, with the aid of James Crossan, his work of organization. Conroy sold his house in London, realized by degrees a considerable part of his large fortune, placed sums of money to his credit in French and German banks and gave over the command of his yacht, the _Finola_, to Bob Power. From this time on Conroy disappeared from London society.

Stories were told in clubs and drawing-rooms about the sayings and doings of "His Royal Magnificence J. P. C.," but these gradually grew stale and no fresh ones were forthcoming. The newspapers still printed from time to time paragraphs which had plainly been sent to them by Conroy himself, but no one at the time took very much interest in them.

"Mr. J. P. Conroy"--so people read--"has gone for a cruise in Mediterranean waters in his steam yacht, the _Finola_." It did not seem to matter whether he had or not. "Among his guests are--" Then would follow a list of names; but always those of people more eminent than fas.h.i.+onable. The Prime Minister went for a short cruise with him. The Chancellor of the Exchequer went twice. Several admirals, a judge or two, and three or four well-known generals were on board at different times. Once he had two bishops, an Anglican who was known as a profound theologian, and a Roman Catholic prelate from the west of Ireland. The names of women rarely appeared on the list, but the Countess of Moyne was advertised as having accepted Conroy's hospitality twice. She was well placed among the notable men. She was a young woman of singular beauty and great personal charm. She might have been if she had chosen a leader of the society which lives to amuse itself. Her husband's great wealth and high social position would have secured her any place in that world which she chose to take. Being a woman of brains as well as beauty she chose to work instead of play, and had become a force, real though not formally recognized, in political life.

It is a curious instance of the careful way in which Conroy worked out the details of his plans, that he should have used the _Finola_ in this way. The cruises which he took with his eminent guests were always well advertised and always short. But the _Finola_ was kept continually in commission. Her voyages when there were no great people on board were longer, were never advertised, and were much more exciting. But no one suspected, or could have suspected, that a millionaire's yacht, and it the temporary home of the leading members of the governing cla.s.ses, could have been engaged in a secret trade, highly dangerous to the peace and security of the nation. It is difficult even now to imagine that after landing the Prime Minister and couple of bishops at Cowes the yacht should have started off to keep a midnight appointment with a disreputable tramp steamer in an unfrequented part of the North Sea; that Bob Power, after making himself agreeable for a fortnight to Lady Moyne, should have sweated like a stevedore at the difficult job of trans.h.i.+pping a cargo in mid-ocean.

CHAPTER III

I now reach the time when I myself came for the first time in touch with Conroy's plans and had my first meeting with Gideon McNeice.

I am an insignificant Irish peer, far from wealthy, with a taste for literature, and, I think, a moderate amount of benevolent feeling towards those of my fellow-men who do not annoy me in any way. I sold the estate, which had long before ceased to be in any real sense my property, immediately after the pa.s.sing of the Land Act of 1903. I have lived since then chiefly in Kilmore Castle, a delightfully situated residence built by my grandfather, which suits me very well indeed. I have occupied my time for years back in gathering materials for a history of all the Irish rebellions there have ever been. My daughter Marion used to help me in this work, by filing and cla.s.sifying the various slips of paper on which I made notes. Now that she has got married and cannot help me any more I have given up the idea of finis.h.i.+ng my great work. I am satisfying my evil itch for writing by setting down an account of the short struggle between north-eastern Ulster and the rest of the British Empire.

The 5th of June was the day on which I first met Bob Power, first came into contact with McNeice, and first set eyes on the notorious _Finola_. It was the day fixed by my nephew G.o.dfrey D'Aubigny for the first, for that year, of the series of garden-parties which I give annually. I detest these festivities, and I have every reason to believe that they must be quite as objectionable to my guests as they are to me. It is G.o.dfrey who insists on their being held. He holds that I am bound to do some entertaining in order to keep up my position in the county. I am not in the least interested in my position in the county; but G.o.dfrey is, and, of course, the matter is of some importance to him. He is heir to my t.i.tle. I used to think and he used to think that he would ultimately enjoy my income too, securing it by marrying my daughter Marion. I am glad to say he has not succeeded in doing this. Marion has married a much better man.

I was sitting in my study after breakfast, fiddling with my papers, but unable to settle down to work. The prospect of the party in the afternoon depressed and irritated me. G.o.dfrey entered the room suddenly through the window. The fact that he is my heir does not seem to me to ent.i.tle him to come upon me like a thief in the night. He ought to go to the door of the house, ring the bell, and ask if I am willing to see him.

"Good morning, Excellency," he said, "glorious day, isn't it?"

G.o.dfrey always addressed me as "Excellency." I cannot imagine why he does so. I have never been and never hope to be a Lord Lieutenant or a Colonial Governor. The t.i.tle is not one which belongs to the office of a deputy lieutenant of a county, the only post of honour which I hold.

"I expect we'll have a pretty good crowd this afternoon," he said.

"Lady Moyne is motoring over. But that's not what I came to say to you. The fact is that something rather important has just happened."

"The people in the gate lodge have burst the new boiler I put in for them, I suppose?" This is the kind of thing G.o.dfrey considers important.

"Not that I know of," he said; "but I'll go down and inquire if you think--"

"I don't think anything about the matter," I said. "If it isn't that, what is it that you've come to tell me?"

"A big steam yacht has just anch.o.r.ed in the bay," he said, "the _Finola_. She belongs to Conroy, the millionaire."

G.o.dfrey is intensely interested in millionaires. He always hopes that he may be able in some way to secure for himself some of their superfluous cash.

"I think," he said, "you ought to go down and leave a card on him. It would only be civil."

"Very well," I said, "you can go and leave my card, if you like."

This was evidently what G.o.dfrey expected me to say. He seemed grateful.

"Very well, Excellency, I'll go at once. I'll invite him and his party to your menagerie this afternoon. I dare say it will amuse them to see the natives."

G.o.dfrey always calls my parties menageries, and my guests natives.

Lady Moyne and her husband, who sometimes comes with her, are not counted as natives. Nor am I. Nor is Marion. Nor is G.o.dfrey himself.

This ill.u.s.trates the working of G.o.dfrey's mind. As a matter of fact the Moynes and my own family are about the only people of social importance in the locality who ought to be called natives. My other guests are all strangers, officials of one kind or another, stipendiary magistrates, police officers, bank managers, doctors, clergymen and others whom an unkind fate has temporarily stranded in our neighbourhood; who all look forward to an escape from their exile and a period of leisure retirement in the suburbs of Dublin.

G.o.dfrey left me, and I went on fidgetting with my papers until luncheon-time.

Marion and I were just finis.h.i.+ng luncheon when G.o.dfrey came in again.

"Well," I said, "have you captured your millionaire?"

"He wasn't on board," said G.o.dfrey. "There were two men there, Power, who's Conroy's secretary, and a horrid bounder called McNeice. They were drinking bottled stout in the cabin with Crossan."

"Under those circ.u.mstances," I said, "you did not, I suppose, leave my cards."

G.o.dfrey has a standing feud with Crossan, who is not a gentleman and does not pretend to be. G.o.dfrey, judged by any rational standard, is even less of a gentleman; but as the future Lord Kilmore he belongs to the ranks of an aristocracy and therefore has a contempt for Crossan.

The two come into very frequent contact and quite as frequent conflict. Crossan manages the co-operative store which I started, and G.o.dfrey regards him as one of my servants. Crossan, who has a fine instinct for business, also manages the commercial side of our local mackerel fis.h.i.+ng. G.o.dfrey thinks he would manage this better than Crossan does. Their latest feud was concerned with the service of carts which take the fish from our little harbour to the nearest railway station. Crossan is politically a strong Protestant and an Orangeman of high attainment. G.o.dfrey has no particular religion, and in politics belongs to that old-fas.h.i.+oned school of Conservatives who think that the lower orders ought to be respectful to their betters.

Crossan having been taught the Church Catechism in his youth, admits this respect as theoretical duty; but gets out of performing it in practice by denying that G.o.dfrey, or for the matter of that any one else, is his better. G.o.dfrey's constant complaints about Crossan are the thorns which remind me that I must not regard my lot in life as altogether pleasant. I felt justified in a.s.suming that G.o.dfrey had not left my cards on men who degraded themselves so far as to drink bottled stout in company with Crossan.

I was wrong. G.o.dfrey did leave my cards. I can only suppose that his respect for the private secretary of a millionaire was stronger than his dislike of Crossan. He had even, it appeared, invited both Power and McNeice to view my "menagerie." For this he felt it necessary to offer some excuse.

"He is one of the Powers of Kilfenora," he said, "so I thought it would be no harm. By the way, Marion, what are you going to wear? I should say that your blue _crepe de chine_--"

G.o.dfrey is something of an expert in the matter of woman's clothes.

Marion, I know, frequently consults him and values his opinion highly.

Unfortunately the subject bores me. I cut him short with a remark which was intended for a snub.

"I hope you have a new suit yourself, G.o.dfrey. The occasion is an important one. If both Lady Moyne and Conroy's private secretary are to be here, you ought to look your best."

But it is almost impossible to snub G.o.dfrey. He answered me with a cheerful friendliness which showed that he appreciated my interest in his appearance.

"I have a new grey suit," he said. "It arrived this morning, and it's a capital fit. That's the advantage of employing really good tailors.

You can absolutely trust Nicholson and Blackett."

I have often wondered whether Nicholson and Blackett could absolutely trust G.o.dfrey. I have several times paid his debts, and I do not intend to do so any more. If they were debts of an intelligible kind I should not mind paying them occasionally. But G.o.dfrey has no ostensible vices. I have never heard of his doing anything wild or disreputable. He does not gamble or borrow money in order to give jewels to pretty actresses. He owes bills to shop-keepers for ties and trousers. His next remark showed me that Nicholson and Blackett were becoming uneasy.

"By the way, Excellency," he said, "I'd be glad if you'd be civil to the Pringles this afternoon. Get her tea or something."

Mr. Pringle is the manager of the branch of the bank in which G.o.dfrey keeps his account. I imagine that he and his wife owe their invitations to my garden parties to the fact that G.o.dfrey's account is always overdrawn. This demand that I should be especially civil to the Pringles suggested to me that G.o.dfrey contemplated sending a cheque to Nicholson and Blackett. I have no particular objection to being civil to the Pringles. I have to be civil to some one. I readily promised to get both tea and an ice for Mrs. Pringle; hoping that G.o.dfrey would go away. He did not. He began talking again about Marion's blue dress.

It was with the greatest difficulty that I got him out of the house half an hour later by saying that if he did not go home at once he would not have time to dress himself with the care which the new grey suit deserved.

It annoys me very much to think G.o.dfrey is heir to my t.i.tle. It used to annoy me still more to think that Marion meant to marry him. She a.s.sures me now that she never intended to; but she used to take an interest in his talk about clothes and he certainly intended to marry her.