'And would you be so mad? Are you to have nobody to see fair and run for the surgeon while the other gentleman makes his escape? George, I never knew you were so selfish.'
Kelly drew his friend a little way aside.
'Nick, I have that to do which cannot be done before a witness.'
Mr. Wogan merely gaped at this extraordinary speech. He noticed that Kelly looked white and haggard even for a man in the full moonlight.
'When I tell you that my honour hangs on it, that a witness is mere ruin, when I pray you by our old friendship? Nick, you must go out of eye-shot and ear-shot.'
'I think you are crazed,' said Wogan.
'I have obeyed you all night. Things have taken the turn that you must obey me. There is no time for an explanation, the hour presses, and, Nick, my honour hangs on it. You must retire to where you can neither see nor hear us, or I am shamed--lost with the Cause.'
Mr. Kelly had been whispering, his voice trembled as the Cause was named. Wogan had only once seen him thus moved. Had he played his trumps amiss after all? It seemed he had not won the game.
'Very well,' said Wogan. 'Good-night. I will take care you are not troubled with witnesses.'
'No,' said Kelly suddenly, and then 'yes; goodnight.'