Something in Calhoun’s voice roused the rage of Lord Mallow, but he controlled it, and said calmly: “Don’t talk nonsense, sir; we shall walk together, if you will.”
At the entrance to the house of the general, the man to whom this visit meant so much stopped and took a piece of paper from his pocket. “Your honour, here is the name of the slayer of Erris Boyne. I give it to you now to see, so you may not be astonished when you see her.”
The governor stared at the paper. “Boyne’s wife, eh?” he said in a strange mood. “Boyne’s wife—what is she doing here?”
Calhoun told him briefly as he took the paper back, and added: “It was accident that brought us all together here, your honour, but the hand of God is in it.”
“Is she very ill?”
“She will not live, I think.”
“To whom did she tell her story?”
“To Miss Sheila Llyn.”
The governor was nettled.
“Oh, to Miss Llyn When did you see her?”