I was not a little surprised, but I was glad to discover that he believed himself to have a little conscience, for as “conscience does make cowards of us all,” I hoped for his reform.
We sat side by side, and planting his closed hand firmly on my knee by way of emphasis, he said, “Yes, I have made a new acquaintance, that of a mysterious personage, and I am now starting on the most reckless, the most risky, the most irrational, and the most romantic venture ever undertaken by mortal man, and if I succeed you shall hear from me; but if I fail, oblivion will claim Leo Bergin, and the claim will be promptly allowed. I made my new acquaintance and formed my new plans but yesterday, and I stand at the dawn of the most enchanting dream that ever lured a sensible man to ruin.”
I begged him to unfold his tale, but he answered, “You are a practical man, and you would regard my undertaking as so wild and visionary as to indicate insanity, for you do not regard me as an imbecile. If I fail, only another leaf, its stem nipped by the frost, flutters to the ground to fertilise the soil. If I fail, the world, save you, knows not of my folly. If I succeed, the facts that I shall reveal will be more strange than fiction, and the results of my adventure will redound to the glory of the land I love.”
“Ill as I was,” he continued, “I began my notes yesterday, October 5th, 1898, off the coast of Spain, and I shall keep a true record of my doings and my observations. If I survive, which is hardly likely, I shall find you and place my notes at your disposal. If I perish—if possible you shall have them brought down to the last breath, and in every page you shall have evidence of my gratitude and my integrity.”
“But tell me,” said I, with impatience. Here the whistle blew, we saw all confusion, and we were entering the port of Lisbon. Time for further explanation, there was none. We separated, I to follow out well-laid plans for business and pleasure, he—well, to me it was an unsolvable riddle; but I never lost faith that, some time and in some place, Leo Bergin would again turn up.
SCENE II.
LEO BERGIN “TURNS UP.”
Two years had passed, and with all my professions of interest and regard, for a full year of that time Leo Bergin had not entered my mind, and for the whole two years, he had occupied very little of my thoughts. As a fact, save on one occasion when D. J. Folder, in forgiving jest told me that he needed a man, and asked if I could recommend a young man with “talent, good looks and ambition,” for the position, I do not remember having thought of Leo Bergin.