“Yes, that’ll be easy enough,” said Bernard. “You got my telegram all right?”
Major Snaffle took his tablets from a pocket, and made a minute on them unobserved.
“I did—I did,” said Jerry, buoyantly. Then with a changed expression he added, whispering: “An’ that same played the divil intirely. ’T was for that they arrested us.”
“Don’t whisper!” interposed the resident magistrate, curtly.
“Egor! I’ll say nothing at all,” said Jerry, who seemed now for the first time to consider the presence of the official.
“Yes—don’t be afraid,” Bernard urged, reassuringly. “It’s all right now. Tell me, is O’Daly in the place we know of?”
“He is, thin! Egor, unless he’d wings on him, and dug his way up through the sayling, like a blessed bat.”
“Did he make much fuss?”
“He did not—lastewise we didn’t stop to hear, He came down wid us aisy as you plaze, an’ I unlocked the dure. ’T is a foine room,’ says I. ‘’T is that,’ says he. ‘Here’s whishky,’ says I. ‘I’d be lookin’ for that wherever you were,’ says he, ‘even to the bowels of the earth.’ ‘An’ why not?’ says I. ‘What is it the priest read to us, that it makes a man’s face to shine wid oil?’ ‘A grand scholar ye are, Jerry,’ says he—”
“Cut it short, Jerry!” interposed Bernard. “The main thing is you left him there all right?”