I was so thunderstruck, that for some few minutes I could not stir from the spot.
Seeing no sign of the approach of the military or police, curiosity, or some strong feeling, got the better of my prudence, and I hurried forward to the scene of slaughter, for such in my heart I felt it was—in the case of at least of one of the fallen men. And there, with the lurid light of the burning building flashing across his deathlike face, and the purple blood welling up from a wound in his chest through his cambric shirt-frill, lay, stretched in death, the newly appointed agent, and, close beside him, O’Rourke, still living, but drawing every breath with such difficulty that I felt certain his last hour had come.
I raised his head, and spoke to him. He knew my voice, and, by a superhuman effort, managed to support himself on his elbow, as he took a small purse from his breast-pocket; he placed it in my hand, and said, “Phil, darlin’, I know you’ve the brave and thrue heart, though it’s only a boy you are. Listen to my last words. Kape my secret, for my sake; never let on to man or mortial you saw me here. Give that purse to Mary—take her to her frinds in Amerikay—she’ll never hear of this there, and may larn in time to forget me. Tell her we shall meet in a better place; and hark! my eyes are growing dark, but I can hear well enough, there are futsteps—they are coming this way; run, for your life; if you are found here, you will die on the gallows, and that would break your poor old father and mother’s hearts! Bless you, Phil, alanna! Remember my last words, and, as you hope for mercy, do my bidding!”
He drew a deep sigh, fell heavily from my arms, rolled over on his side, and there—with the dead agent’s fixed and glassy eyes staring the frightful stare of death straight at him—lay cowld and still!
The sound of the futsteps came nearer and nearer. I started at my best speed for home. When I stepped into the house, the children had been put to bed, but the ould people were still talking by the dim light of the nearly burnt-out turf fire. I wished them good-night, plading fataigue, and reached my small room without their having an opportunity of noticing the state of alarm and agitation I was in.
The next day was an awful one for me. The violent death of the middleman was in every one’s mouth; but it was some relief to find no mention was made of the finding the corpse of poor O’Rourke.
I concluded the footsteps we had both heard were those of some of his associates, and that they had carried off and concealed his body.
I fulfilled O’Rourke’s wishes to the best of my power; saw Mary Sheean safe on boord ship, put her in the care of a dacent, middle-aged countrywoman of her own—and as I was assuring her, in O’Rourke’s words, that he would soon join her, all I had to say was cut short by the arrival of a parcel of peelers on boord, and the rason of their coming was the assassination of the agent had been discovered. O’Rourke was missing, and so suspicion fell on him—and there was a reward of two hundred pounds offered for him. It was thought possible he might be on boord the George Washington, and they had come, with a full description of his person, to sarch the ship.
The passengers—and it was a tadeous job—were all paraded—over three hundred in the steerage, let alone the cabin and the crew—every part of the ship was overhauled, but, as may naturally be supposed, no Miles O’Rourke was found.
I need scarcely tell yez, boys, what a relief that was to pretty Mary Sheean and myself.