The Test
As Oakes ceased speaking there came a silence. Although we were many there, there was not a motion for a space of seconds—not a sound save the deep breathing of Hallen and of some of the others upon whom the duty of the hour was to fall. Men trained for such scenes—always alive to the possibilities, always alert for trickery or treachery—are yet but human, and subject to the tension that is felt even by the most courageous.
Then, in obedience to a signal from Oakes, Martin appeared, escorting O'Brien, who was limping, into the room, and to the chair facing Oakes.
It soon became evident to us that Oakes's real identity was unknown to O'Brien. Even if the latter were the detective Larkin, he had failed to realize that Mr. Clark was anything but the agent for the property.
"You are wounded, my man! They tell me it happened in the Highway the other day, and that afterwards, at night, you chased Maloney on the plains of Mona, after he had fired upon us. Tell us about it, O'Brien."
Oakes's voice was calm and strong, but in it I fancied I detected a note of pity.
O'Brien hesitated, stammered. "How did you know when I was shot?" he exclaimed. "I told no one." Oakes smiled slightly. "Out with your story, O'Brien. Did you chase Maloney for revenge, or for revenge and business?"
O'Brien straightened in the chair. "Who is this man Clark? How peculiar these questions are!" his look plainly said.
"Why, for revenge, of course," he answered.