"I saw just what I told you," began Mrs. Plunkett; "the hay-barn all in flames, and on the road Murtagh was standing. You know you were, Murtagh. It's no use denying it; you had on that very gray jacket you have on now, and when you saw me, you turned and ran away as fast as you could. And then I woke Mr. Plunkett, and all the servants, and he went down to see what could be done, and out on the road he found this; but perhaps Murtagh will deny that this is his name." As she spoke she took up a dirty pocket-handkerchief which lay on the table beside Mr. Blair, and showed "Murtagh Blair" written in clear letters in one of its corners.
At Mrs. Plunkett's mention of the gray jacket Winnie and Murtagh mechanically turned their eyes to Murtagh's coat, and as they did so a remembrance suddenly flashed across them that yesterday Pat O'Toole had worn a gray jacket which was not at all unlike Murtagh's. Each looked at the other; the truth was becoming too clear to be doubted any longer; and the sight of the handkerchief only confirmed their fears. It had been used as a towel yesterday by the followers, and had probably remained in Pat's pocket. Murtagh saw that Winnie had no longer any doubt, and the knowledge of her conviction made his own only the more certain.
What was to be done? It was all his temper that had brought Pat into this scrape, and now every word he said in his own defense would be a means of preventing the boy from escaping the consequences. To shield Pat now was all that he could do. And yet he had to fight hard with the proud indignation stirred up in him by being falsely accused. It was not pleasant to let Mr. Plunkett triumph.
He stood in silence, struggling with his thoughts, till his uncle asked, "What have you to say in answer to Mrs. Plunkett?"
"'What have you to say in Answer to Mrs. Plunkett?'"
Then a rush of anger almost overwhelmed every other feeling, and though he squeezed Winnie's hand as a signal to her not to speak, he answered with sullen pride, "I said before I was not there."
His evident perplexity, his glances at Winnie, his anger, were all against him, and Mr. Blair replied coldly: "I shall be more glad than I can tell you if you can clear yourself from this charge. But if you cannot, at least make a manly confession; this flat denial is childish."
Murtagh remained silent. Winnie's cheeks flushed, and words trembled on her lips. She could not bear Murtagh to be treated in this manner. But again the warning hand squeezed hers. If only she had had nothing to do with exciting Pat, then she might have spoken. As it was, she felt that she had no more right than Murtagh to say a word, and though she could have cried with perplexity and vexation, she was forced to be silent.