His son came into his place, but he was a mild and not very intelligent young man, not long out of his articles, and very dependent upon Daireh, who knew all the details of his father’s clients’ business, and was so deferential and obsequious, that he made him think very often that he had originated the course of conduct which the wily Egyptian had suggested. As for the other partner, Fagan, he confined himself entirely, as he always had done, to the criminal and political part of the business.
Daireh was a bachelor, living in lodgings, and might have saved money to a reasonable extent in a modest way. But he was anything but modest in his desire for wealth, and the law would have given a very ugly name to some of the transactions by which he sought to acquire it if they had but come to light.
One February afternoon he left the office rather earlier than usual, and after a hurried dinner repaired to his lodgings, where he mixed himself a strong glass of whisky. Then he took a flask of glass and leather with a metal cup fitting to the bottom, and, unlocking a bureau, took out of a drawer a small phial.
He listened; went to the door—opened it, and looked out on the staircase; shut it again, locked it, and returned to the bureau. His hand shook so that he took another pull at his grog, and then uncorking the phial he poured the contents into the flask, filled it up with whisky, screwed the top on, and put it into his pocket.
Then he went out once more, and bent his steps to a railway station, where he took a ticket to a small country place about an hour’s ride from Dublin. It was growing dark when he arrived, but there was a moon, and the sky was fairly clear from clouds.
He walked for a mile along the road, and then turned off by a path which crossed a moor, and pursued this until he came within sight of a small disused quarry, from which all the valuable stone had been long ago carried.
As Daireh approached the place he clapped his hands three times, and a man came out of the shadow into the moonlight.
“Stebbings, is that you?” said Daireh.
“Yes, it is,” replied the other, sulkily. “No thanks to you for having to skulk like a fox. As I told you in my letter, the police are after me, and if I cannot get out of the country I’m done.”
“What made you come to Ireland, then? It would have been just as easy to have shipped abroad.”