"Stop a moment, Mr. Mooney," and the car stopped. "Whereabouts was it the young gentleman perished?"
"Them's the very shot-holes," said Teddy, pointing up to the temporary embrasure, which had indeed been knocked down half a score of times since the murder, and had been as often replaced by the diligent care of Mr. Blake and Captain Clayton.
"Just so. They are the shot-holes. And which way did the murderer run?" Teddy pointed with his whip away to the east, over the ground on which the man had made his escape. "And where did you first see him?"
"See him!" ejaculated Teddy. It became horrible to his imagination as he thought that he was about to tell of such a deed.
"Of course, we know you did see him; but I want to know the exact spot."
"It was over there, nigh to widow Dolan's cottage."
"It wasn't the widow who saw him, I think?"
"Faix, it was the widow thin, with her own eyes. I hardly know'd him. And yet I did know him, for I'd seen him once travelling from Ballinasloe with Pat Carroll. And Lax is a man as when you've once seen him you've seen him for allays. But she knowed him well. Her husband was one of the boys when the Fenians were up. If he didn't go into the widow Dolan's cabin my name's not Teddy Mooney."
"And who else was there?"
"There was no one else; but only her darter, a slip of a girl o' fifteen, come up while Lax was there. I know she come up, because I saw her coming jist as I passed the door."