“A note from Mr. Kennyfeck, sir,” said Mr. Phillis, “and the man waits for an answer.”
Linton, taking up a book, affected to read, but in reality placed himself so as to watch Cashel's features as he perused the letter, whose size and shape pronounced to be something unusual. Hurriedly mumbling over a rather tedious exordium on the various views the writer had taken of a subject, Cashel's eyes suddenly flashed as he drew forth a small printed paragraph, cut from the column of a newspaper, and which went thus:—
“It will be, doubtless, in our readers' recollection how a
short time back an armed slaver, sailing under the flag of
Columbia, was taken, after a most severe and sanguinary
engagement, by H.M. brig 'Hornet.' The commander, a young
Spaniard of singularly handsome exterior, and with all the
bearing and appearance of a rank very different from his
mode of life, was carried off and confined in St. Kitts'
till such time as he could be brought to trial.
Representations from the Government of the Republic were,
however, made, and a claim preferred for indemnity, not only
for the loss of the vessel and property, but for the loss of
life and other injury incurred on the capture. While this
singular demand was under investigation, the young Spaniard
alluded to contrived to break his bonds and escape: the
only mode of doing which was by a leap into the sea from the
parapet of the fortress, a height, we are informed, of nigh
one hundred feet. They who are acquainted with the locality
assert that if he even survived the desperate leap, he must
inevitably have fallen a victim to the sharks who frequent
the bay to catch the bodies of all who die in the prison,
and who, it would appear, are thus unceremoniously disposed
of. This supposition would seem, however, in some respect,
contradicted by the circumstance that a Venezuelan cruiser,
which hung about the shore for the two preceding days,
sailed on the very night of his escape, and, in all
probability, with him on board.”
“I could swear he is safe!” cried Cashel, in an ecstasy of enthusiasm; “he's a glorious fellow.”
“Who is that?” said Linton, looking up; “any one I know?”
“No, indeed!” said Cashel. Then suddenly checking himself in a speech whose opening accents were far from flattering, he added, “One you never even heard of.”
He once more addressed himself to the letter, which, however, merely contained some not very brilliant commentaries of Mr. Kennyfeck over the preceding extract, and which, after enumerating a great many modes of investigating the event, concluded with the only thing like common sense in the whole, by recommending a strict silence and secrecy about it all.
Cashel was closing the epistle, when he caught on the turn-down the following lines;—
“Mr. Linton has written to me about something like a legal transfer of the cottage and lands of Tubberbeg, which he mentions your having presented to him. What reply am I to return to this? I stated that you had already assured Mr. Corrigan, the present tenant, of an undisturbed possession of the tenure, but Mr. L. interrupted my explanation by saying that he only desired an assignment of the property, such as would give a parliamentary qualification, and that all pledges made to Mr. C. he would regard as equally binding on himself.”
Cashel's first impulse, when he had read thus far, was to show Linton the paragraph, and frankly ask him what he wished to be done; indeed, he had already advanced towards him with that object, when he checked himself. “It might seem ungracious to ask any explanation. There had been already a moment of awkwardness about that same cottage, and Linton had behaved so well; and, of course, only asking him for the possession as a means of qualifying, Corrigan need never hear of it Besides, he could make Linton a present of much greater real value as soon as the circumstances of the estate became better known.” Such and such-like reasonings passed hastily through his brain; and as all his resolves were quickly formed, and as quickly acted on, he sat down and wrote: