“And why wouldn’t he?”
“I’m not saying it is, mind you,” said Jimmy; “but it might be that he knows more about Patsy Devlin than he’d care to tell. Him and Patsy was mighty thick.”
“Talk sense, can’t you?” said the sergeant. “Is it likely now that a man like his lordship would be conniving at the escape of a criminal from justice?”
“I said no such thing,” said Jimmy; “and I’ll thank you, Sergeant Farrelly, not to be putting it out that I did. What I said was that he might know more than he’d care to tell. Would you think now that a gentleman like him—and I’ll say this for him, that he always was a gentleman—do you think now that, if so be he did know where Patsy was gone, he’d be wanting to tell you and maybe get a poor man into trouble that he had a liking for? Didn’t you tell me this minute that he had himself hid away from you when you were up at the Castle looking for him? Why would he do the like? Tell me that now. Why would he do it?”
“Come along out of this,” said the sergeant to Constable Cole. “We’ve no business standing here listening to such talk. I’m going up to the Castle now, Mr. O’Loughlin, and if I hear so much as another word of that nonsense out of your head I’ll tell his lordship what you’re after saying.”
“You may tell him,” said Jimmy, “when you get a hold of him to tell; but it’s my belief that if he hid on you yesterday, he’ll hide on you again to-day.”
It turned out that Jimmy O’Loughlin was perfectly right. Constable Cole said that he was prepared to swear, if necessary, that he saw Lord Manton looking out of one of the windows of the Castle. But Wilkins was as impenetrably suave as he had been the day before.
“His lordship left word,” he said, “in case you called, that he was away from home and couldn’t say precisely when he might return.”