The two stared in helpless bewilderment at the young man.
“That O’Mahony seems to have been a right smart chap,” Bernard continued. “No wonder he made things hum here in Muirisc. And a prophet too. Why, the very first time he ever laid eyes on this cave here, by your own telling, he saw just what it was going to be good for.”
“I don’t folly ye,” said the puzzled Jerry.
“Why, to put O’Daly in, of course,” answered the young man, lightly. “That’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“Egor! ’T is a grand idea that same!” exclaimed Jerry, slapping his thigh. “Only,” he added, with a sinking enthusiasm, “suppose he wouldn’t come?”
Bernard laughed outright.
“That’ll be easy enough. All you have to do is to send word you want to see him in your place up stairs; when he comes, tell him there’s a strange discovery you’ve made. Bring him down here, let him in, and while he’s looking around him just slip out and shut the door on him. I notice it’s got a spring-lock from the outside. A thoughtful man, that O’Mahony! Of course, you’ll want to bring down enough food and water to last a week or so, first; perhaps a little whiskey, too. And I’d carry up all these papers, moreover, and put ’em in your room above. Until the old man got quieted down, he might feel disposed to tear things.”
“Egor! I’ll do it!” cried Jerry, with sparkling eyes and a grin on his broad face. “Oh, the art of man!”
The pallid and near-sighted Linsky was less alive to the value of this bold plan.
“An’ what’ll ye do nixt?” he asked, doubtfully.