“’Tis the same thing—the worst fool is the rogue; but I tuk to ’t to keep soul an’ body together. Sure, I got into throuble in Cork, as manny another boy did before me, an’ fled to Ameriky, an’ there I listed, an’ came in at the tail of the war, an’ was shot down an’ robbed where I lay, an’ was in the hospital for months; an’ whin I came out divil a thing was there for me to putt me hand to; an’ the Fenians was started, an’ I j’ined ’em. An’ there was a man I knew who made a livin’ be sellin’ information of what winton, an’ the same offer came to me through him—an’ me starvin’; an’ that’s the way of it.”
“An’ a notorious bad way, at that!” said Jerry, sternly.
“I’m of that same opinion,” Linsky went on, in all meakness. “Don’t think I’m defindin’ meself. But I declare to ye, whin I look back on it, ’t is not like it was meself at all.”
“Ay, there ye have it!” exclaimed Jerry. “Luk now! Min do be changin’ and alterin’ all the while. I know a man—an old man—who used to be honest an’ fair-spoken, an’ that devoted to a certain family, egor, he’d laid down his life for ’em; an’ now, be rayson that he’s married a widdeh, an’ got a boy of his own, what did he but turn rogue an’ lie awake nights schamin’ to rob that same family! ’Tis that way we are! An’ so wid you, Linsky, ’tis my belafe that ye began badly, an’ that ye’re minded to ind well. Ye’re not the man ye were at all. ’T is part by rayson, I think, of your studyin’ in thim holy books, an’ part, too,” his eyes twinkled as he added, “be rayson of enjoyin’ my society every day.” Linsky passed the humorous suggestion by unheeded, his every perception concentrated upon the tremendous possibility which had with such strange suddenness opened before him.
“An’ what is it ye have in mind?” he asked breathlessly. “There was word of a bargain.”
“’Tis this,” explained Jerry: “An old thief of the earth—him I spoke of that married the widdeh—is for robbin’ an’ plunderin’ the man that saved your life. There’s more to the tale than I’m tellin’ ye, but that’s the way of it; an’ I’ll die for it but I’ll prevint him; an’ ’t is beyant my poor wits to do that same; an’ so ’t is your help I’m needin’. An’ there ye have it!”
The situation thus outlined did not meet the full measure of Linsky’s expectations. His face fell.
“Sure ye might have had me advice in anny case,” he said “if that’s all it comes to; but I thought I was goin’ out.”
“An’ why not?” answered Jerry. “Who’s stop-pin’ ye but me, an’ me needin’ ye outside?”
Linsky’s eyes glowed radiantly through their glasses.