“I was articled to an attorney, wance upon a time, but I’d no time to sthick to it.”
“But ye’d know how to hev the law on a man, if he was yer inemy?”
“Some of it is in me mind still, maybe,” replied Linsky, not with much confidence.
Jerry sprang lightly down from the table, walked over to the fire, and stood with his back to it, his legs wide apart and his thumbs in his waistcoat armholes, as he had seen The O’Mahony bear himself.
“Well, Linsky, I’ve a bargain to offer ye,” he said, bluntly.
Linsky stared in wild-eyed amazement. He had not heard the sound of this name of his for years.
“What—what was that name ye called?” he asked, with a faltering voice.
“Ah, it’s all right,” remarked Jerry, with assurance. “Faith, I knew ye wor Linsky from the beginning. An’ bechune ourselves, that’s but a drop in the bucket to the rest I know.”
Linsky’s surprise paralyzed his tongue. He could only pluck nervously at the cord about his waist and gaze in confusion at his jailer-friend.
“You believed all this time that ye were hid away down here by your fri’nds, to save ye from the poliss, who were scourin’ the counthry to arrest Fenians. Am I right?” Jerry asked, with a dawning smile on his red face.