In due course, he saw all he wanted to see. There were Marg and the cattle-dealer, drinking their tea and eating fried eggs and bacon; and badly they both stood in need of their bit. Then the dealer pulled out the purse, and counted out the money upon the table, that he was paying for Mickey’s stock; and the luck-penny was handed back to him. Ratigan’s mouth was watering at the sight, and when he saw Marg tying up what she got, a full hundred pounds, in a strong bag, and fastening that into the front pocket of her cloak, inside, a very safe spot.
“Yiz never got any account of the bullock that was lost ... not to say, stole?” says the dealer.
“Never a word,” said Marg; “whoever done it, no one knows, nor can’t think. And to say that all over the whole of Ardenoo such work to be going on! Sure it’s a fright, so it is!”
“You may say that; a fright it is, sure enough!” says the dealer; “but whoever it is, will soon be known! I have that from certain knowledge; and that the polis has all ready, and will have the thief inside of the barracks, before he’s a day oulder! so mind, now, I’m telling you!”
“It would be a charity, too!” said Marg; and then the dealer bid her the time of day, and went off, to get the cattle home before it would be dark night down upon him and them, and it raining hard still.
Marg was just thinking in herself, had she the money safe for Mickey, and fidgeting with her hand to feel was it where she had put it, not two minutes before, and she was thinking of the long road that lay between her and the Furry Farm, where she’d be as apt as not to meet with tinkers and queer people going along, after leaving the fair and maybe they not so sober as they might be ... when the door of the parlour opened, very easy, and in walked Ratigan. And not a limp was upon him then! He had too many other things in his head, to remember about his lame foot. But anyway, Marg was too much surprised to meet him there quite suddenly, after she trying to not see him all day, to remark on that. She was flustered, too, about the bag of money, not having satisfied herself yet that she had it in the safest place.
She turned to face Ratigan, trying to look careless. But she felt trembly and queer, meeting him there, in that little crowded-up parlour. Someways, it wasn’t the same thing at all as when they would be having just a chat in the dusk at the Holy Well, or straying along through the quiet fields.
“Good-evening, Mrs. Heffernan, mam,” said Ratigan, very polite; “I seen you over and over to-day ...” and he stopped short, and his eyes began looking at her every way.
“Well, and if you did, and had anything to say, why didn’t you come up and speak to me?” said Marg hurriedly.
It wasn’t what she wanted to say to him at all.