“But you wouldn’t have left her up there to be murdhered?”
“She’s nothin’ to me, and I don’t know as she’s iver like to be.”
“May-be not.”
“But, tell me, Martin—was there anything said between you and Moylan about Anty before she come down here?”
“How, anything said, mother?”
“Why, was there any schaming betwixt you?”
“Schaming?—when I want to schame, I’ll not go shares with sich a fellow as Moylan.”
“Ah, but was there anything passed about Anty and you getting married? Come now, Martin; I’m in all this throuble along of you, and you shouldn’t lave me in the dark. Was you talking to Moylan about Anty and her fortune?”
“Why, thin, I’ll jist tell you the whole thruth, as I tould it all before to Mister Frank—that is, Lord Ballindine, up in Dublin; and as I wouldn’t mind telling it this minute to Barry, or Daly, or any one else in the three counties. When Moylan got the agency, he come out to me at Toneroe; and afther talking a bit about Anty and her fortune, he let on as how it would be a bright spec for me to marry her, and I won’t deny that it was he as first put it into my head. Well, thin, he had schames of his own about keeping the agency, and getting a nice thing out of the property himself, for putting Anty in my way; but I tould him downright I didn’t know anything about that; and that ’av iver I did anything in the matter it would be all fair and above board; and that was all the conspiracy I and Moylan had.”
“And enough too, Martin,” said the widow. “You’ll find it’s quite enough to get us into throuble. And why wouldn’t you tell me what was going on between you?”