“And us thinking that the two of yez was off to America,” said the sergeant.
“I heard that you thought I’d gone,” said Dr. O’Grady; “but what made you suspect poor Patsy?”
“Hadn’t he the funds collected for the sports?” said the sergeant.
“Be damn!” said Patsy, “but that wasn’t the cause of my going off, and well you know it, sergeant. It’s little call you have to be saying that about me, and you out after me at the time for the murder of the doctor. Wasn’t that enough for you to be saying, without the other?”
“My wife?” said Mr. Dick. “Did you see her? Was she well?”
“She’s distressed,” said the sergeant. “The whole of them’s distressed, and small blame to them. I couldn’t rightly tell this minute which of the ladies was your wife; but they were all round at the barrack this morning, and it would have gone to your heart to see the way they were.”
“As we’re on the subject of ladies,” said Dr. O’Grady, “I suppose Miss Blow is out after me. I heard from Patsy that she’d arrived in Clonmore.”
“You may say she is,” said the sergeant. “She has the officer’s heart fair broke, pursuing him here and there, and not letting him rest in his bed at night the way he’d have us all scouring the country for your dead body.”
“And was it looking for me that brought you here, sergeant?” said Dr. O’Grady.
“It was after they left the barrack,” said the sergeant, “that the ladies went up to the Castle—Jimmy O’Loughlin’s boy showing them the way—thinking that maybe, being a magistrate, Lord Manton would help them to find yez. What happened there I couldn’t say; but it wasn’t long after us eating our dinner when the officer came down and Lord Manton along with him and Miss Blow and the other ladies. Such language you never heard. There was one lady, tall she was, and dark, with a kind of a grey dress on her, and a big umbrella under her arm with a stone knob on the end of the handle of it——”