“It is rather a new thing for Trevyllian to refuse a meeting. They say, O’Malley, he has heard of your shooting.”
“No, no,” said another; “he cares very little for any man’s pistol. If the story be true, he fires a second or two before his adversary; at least, it was in that way he killed Carysfort.”
“Here comes the great O’Shaughnessy!” cried some one at the window; and the next moment the heavy gallop of a horse was heard along the causeway. In an instant we all rushed to the door to receive him.
“It’s all right, lads!” cried he, as he came up. “We have him this time!”
“How?” “When?” “Why?” “In what way have you managed?” fell from a dozen voices, as the major elbowed his way through the crowd to the sitting-room.
“In the first place,” said O’Shanghnessy, drawing a long breath, “I have promised secrecy as to the steps of this transaction; secondly, if I hadn’t, it would puzzle me to break it, for I’ll be hanged if I know more than yourselves. Tom Conyers wrote me a few lines for Trevyllian, and Trevyllian pledges himself to meet our friend; and that’s all we need know or care for.”
“Then you have seen Trevyllian this morning?”
“No; Beaufort met me at the village. But even now it seems this affair is never to come off. Trevyllian has been sent with a forage party towards Lesco. However, that can’t be a long absence. But, for Heaven’s sake, let me have some breakfast!”
While O’Shaughnessy proceeded to attack the viands before him, the others chatted about in little groups; but all wore the pleased and happy looks of men who had rescued their friend from a menaced danger. As for myself, my heart swelled with gratitude to the kind fellows around me.
“How has Conyers assisted us at this juncture?” was my first question to O’Shaughnessy, when we were once more alone.