“Indeed an' I don't know, sir. They say it's the asy place to gain a livin'; fine pay, and little to do for it.”
Linton smiled at an encomium for whose accuracy he would not have vouched, and then tried to ascertain, in the same careless fashion, in what direction Keane had gone; but the woman could not tell. She believed it was by the high road, but could not be certain, since he had left the house shortly after daybreak.
Linton sauntered out in deep thought. It was evident enough to him what the object of that journey was; it needed no clew to track his path. It was strange; but now, when the deed was not to secure any future benefits to himself, it appeared before his eyes in all the glaring colors of its criminality. It was a cold-blooded and useless crime, and he actually shuddered as he thought upon it.
Although he well knew that it would not be possible to connect him in any way with the act, his conscience made him restless and uneasy, and he would have given much that he had never mooted it. It was too late, however, now, to think of these things; were he to mount his horse and follow the fellow Keane, the chances of coming up with him were few. The man would inevitably have concealed himself till the very moment came; and were Linton to be present at such a time, the fact of his presence might, in such a remote and unfrequented spot, give rise to the very worst suspicions. “Be it so,” said he, at length, and with the tone of one who left the issue to fortune. He found himself now upon the high road, and remembering that he was not far from Tiernay's house, resolved on making a visit to the doctor in person. It might so happen hereafter that a question would arise where he had passed the morning. There was no saying what turn events might take, and it would be as well were he able to show that he had spent some time in Tiernay's company; and as, in such a critical moment, it would have been far from wise to discuss any matter connected with Cashel's property, it were safest to make the object of the visit appear an effort to obtain Dr. Tiernay's kind mediation in the difference with Mr. Corrigan.
To pass half an hour in his company, under any pretext, would be to put on record his occupation on that morning; and with this resolve, he knocked at the door.
It was with a start of surprise Tiernay received Linton as he entered his study. The doctor arose from the chair where he had been sitting, and stood in the attitude of one who desires by his very air and deportment to express that he does not mean that the other should be seated.
“This is an honor, sir,” said he, at last, “so undeserved on my part, that I am at a loss how to acknowledge it.”
“A little patience and a little courtesy are all I ask for, Dr. Tiernay,” replied Linton, while he placed a chair and seated himself with the most perfect unconcern. “You may easily guess that I do not intrude my presence upon you without what at least seem to me to be sufficient reasons. Whether you may think them so or not, will in a great measure depend upon whether you prefer to be guided by the false lights of an unjust prejudice, or the true illumination of your own natural good sense and practical intelligence.”
Tiernay sat down without speaking; the appeal was made calmly and dispassionately to him, and he felt that he could not but entertain it, particularly as the scene was beneath his own roof.
Linton resumed,—