'Pah! ye stink of the Staghouse! Stale blood and brains! Go on, hangman; do your worst. Mr. Crosbie was here--has been here for weeks. I won't deny, since ye know all about it. If ye hadn't been a dolt, ye'd have found him long ago. Why, he walked out with Norah each evening on the shore. He was here when the yeoman blackguards wounded and hurt my arm. Do ye think, if it was otherwise, I'd have stooped to give them drink? Not likely! Mr. Crosbie was here, but the bird's flown. You may well look glum. Sorra a drop of the crathur your men'll get out of me this day. Go, search the house; turn it inside out. He lived in the right-hand garret. Ye'll find some of his things about, though he's in Wexford by this time. Here are all my keys (except the cellar key). Search!'
This was disheartening. Behaviour coarse and rude. But duty is duty. Sirr stooped to pick up the keys, which had been tossed to his feet, and, wrapping himself in a rag of dignity, proceeded to examine the premises. It was as she said. There was no one there, though there were signs of recent occupation. Ruefully the major looked into the dining-parlour. There were no nice things laid out for his behoof.
'I've only done my duty,' he urged, as he clutched the virtuous lady's fat hand. 'Don't be cross with me. I'm glad my mission's failed, though I should have won a thousand by it--there!'
But she shook him off and swept away, murmuring over her shoulder, with sniffing nostrils, that she had done with him; would never meet him as a friend again (though her house was open to examination whensoever he was anxious for an outrage); that she would take it as a personal favour if he would save her the pain of cutting him dead in public; for under no conditions whatsoever would she consent to condone this insult.
Sirr was sorry, but shrugged his shoulders. He ordered his men to march on to Strogue. Perhaps the culprit was not gone to Wexford, but was lying perdu in the vaults of the ancient Abbey. Mrs. Gillin screamed to old Jug, from an upper window, to run round to Larry in the farm-buildings, and bid him bring out the carriage. She must go to Dublin to the doctor. Her nerves were rooned now, as well as her spirits and poor arm.
Then, closing the window, she called on the fugitives to come forth.
'There's no time to be lost,' she said. 'Sirr suspects nothing, but the other will. The serpent! He is capable of coming down himself, in a friendly way, to spend the evening; and that's more than I could endure, even for you.'
'Of whom do you speak?' asked Terence, bewildered.
'Don't chatter!' interrupted the kind lady. ''Twill be twilight in an hour or so. You must get out of this before Sirr gets back, and reports to the other what he's done. Then the brute may come, and welcome. It'll be a pleasure to laugh at him. Sirr'll be an hour or so rummaging through the Abbey. Meanwhile you'll take my place in the coach. You're just my size and figure. Your arm looks awful bad. You want a doctor sadly. But that gossoon there; he can't go too, as I've always gone alone. Unlucky! He can't stay, either; that's certain. What'll we do at all?' She tore off the soiled turban to rub her head, for the better coaxing of her ingenuity. Presently she clapped her hands. 'That's it. Ye'll go separate to the same rendezvous. You, Phil, shall go first, for ye must walk. It's like a masquerade in the good old times; yet my heart is dreadful sore--ochone!'
Rapidly Madam Gillin produced some sailor-slops which her own boatman used to wear when she took her pleasure on the bay. 'Phil will wear these and start at once,' she explained. 'His face must not be seen; it's too well known. In the boathouse yonder he'll find a coil of rope. He must bear it on his shoulders as a motive, and let a loop or two fall over his forehead. Be off now, and be careful. Take a knife, in case of accidents. Ye must be clear off before Sirr returns from the Abbey. If by ill-luck ye were to come face to face, stab at his legs. He wears a coat of mail. I felt it with my scissors. Away!'