“You have,” said Mrs. Joyce. “You have surely. And Flanagan deserves it, so he does. It’s not once nor twice, but it’s every day I do be saying there’s something should be done to them Flanagans.”
“There’s more will be done to him than he cares for,” said Joyce grimly. “Wait till the County Court Judge gets at him. Believe me he’ll be sorry for himself then.”
Peter Joyce started early next morning. He had an eight-mile walk before him and he wished to reach the town in good time, being anxious to put his case into the hands of Mr. Madden, the solicitor, before Mr. Madden became absorbed in the business of the day. Mr. Madden had the reputation of being the smartest lawyer in Connaught, and his time was very fully occupied.
It took Joyce nearly three hours to reach the town and he had ample time to prepare his case against Flanagan as he went. There was no lack of material for the lawsuit. A feud of years’ standing provides many grievances which can fairly be brought into court. Joyce’s difficulty was to make a choice. He pondered deeply as he walked along the bare road across the bog. When he reached the door of Mr. Madden’s office he had a tale of injuries suffered at the hands of the Flanagans which would, he felt sure, move the judge to vindictive fury.
Mr. Madden was already busy when Joyce was shown unto his room.
“Well,” he said, “who are you and what do you want?”
“My name’s Peter Joyce of Letterbrack, your honour,” said Joyce. “A decent man with a long weak family, and my father was a decent man before me, and it’s no fault of mine that I’m here to-day, and going into court, though there isn’t another gentleman in all Ireland I’d sooner come to than yourself, Mr. Madden, if so be I had to come to anyone. And it’s what I’m druv to, for if I wasn’t——”
“What is it?” said Mr. Madden. “Police? Drunk and disorderly?”
“It is not,” said Joyce. “Sure I never was took by the police only twice, and them times they wouldn’t have meddled with me only for the spite the sergeant had against me. But he’s gone from the place now, thanks be to God, and the one that came after him wouldn’t touch me.”
Peter Joyce sank his voice to a whisper.