“God bless you and keep you, my boy,” said James Hope. “You are the son of a brave man. I doubt not that you will be a brave man, too, brave in a good cause.”
Donald Ward seemed a little impatient at this long scrutiny of Neal and the speech which followed. He took several gulps of whisky and water and blew clouds of tobacco smoke. He cleared his throat noisily and said.
“You’ll be satisfied, James Hope, by the letter I’ve given you that we are men to be trusted?”
“God forbid else,” said Hope. “Whom should we trust if not the brother and son of Micah Ward?”
“Then I’ll come straight to the point,” said Donald. “Who were the two men that were with you just now?”
“The one of them,” said Hope, “was Aeneas Moylin, a Catholic, and a friend of Charlie Teeling. He’s a man that has done much to bring the Defender boys from County Down and Armagh into the society. He has a good farm of land near by Donegore.”
“And the other?”
“The other you ought to know, Neal Ward. He’s from Dunseveric. His name’s James Finlay.”
“I do know him,” said Neal, “but I don’t trust him.”
“He came to me,” said Hope, “with a letter from your father, like the letter you bring yourself. I have trusted him a great deal.”