In a voice that shook to such an extent that Ronan looked at him in horror, Mr Malachy continued: “Ronan,” he said, “remember that I tell you against my will, and that you are forcing me to speak. They did say at the time that there was a woman with your father—a woman who had travelled with him all the way from Lockerbie—that they quarrelled, that he—he——”
“Yes—go on! For God’s sake go on.”
“Pushed her in the water—in a rage, mind you, in a rage, I say; and then, apparently appalled at what he had done, jumped in, too.”
“Were they both drowned then?”
“And no one tried to save them?”
“No one was near enough. The tide was running strong at the time, and they were both carried out to sea. The woman’s body was never found; and your father’s, when it was recovered several days afterwards, was so disfigured that it could only be identified by the clothes.”
“And they were sure it was my father?”
“I am afraid there is little doubt on that score. Your Aunt Bridget, who, being the last of the family to see him alive, was called upon to identify the body, always declared there was a mistake; she identified the clothes, but mentioned that the body was that of a person whom she had never seen before.”
“Then there is a slight hope!”