“Sir John,” said I, “the name of Davell is not unfamiliar to me, and, if my memory serve me aright, you must know him well.”
“Yes,” said he shortly; “he once stood between me and death in a former war. But what of that,” added he grimly, “as things are now?”
I held my peace, whereupon he exclaimed passionately: “I will suffer nothing to stand between me and the deliverance of Ireland! Let us proceed.”
Fitzmaurice, however, would not agree to this; so Sir John went on, as had been suggested, and we withdrew into the forest not far from the castle. But about midnight Sir John sent to say that the Englishmen had gone to bed, and that, as all was now quiet, he invited us to come. Nor did we refuse.
When we had entered within the silent castle, Sir John met us, and led us, who were leaders, into the hall, but our men lay down in the courtyard. When wine and meat had been put before us, the waiting-men going about on tiptoe, Fitzmaurice inquired of Sir John if we might be told on what business it was that Carter and Davell had come to Tralee.
“As spies. What else?” said Sir John. “The tidings of your landing have reached the ears of the President, and they have ventured hither for more news. They tell me they wish to see for themselves what is going on.”
“What say they of Desmond?” I asked.
“They say—what I cannot believe,” cried he, forgetting to whisper, as we had been doing; “they say that Desmond himself sent a letter to the President—a letter he had received from you,” and here he glanced at Fitzmaurice—”and that he has offered to drive the Spaniards back to their ships.”
We were all silent. As for me, my mind was as a blank, while my heart beat so furiously that it was like to rend my body.