“Well,” said the Fiscal, “it is a very good thing for you, Mrs. Connoway, that young Sir Louis is likely to recover after the knock on the head he got from your friend. But the wonder to me is that you did not speak more plainly when there was a former fatal assault in the same place.”
“Now, I put it to ye, sorr, what was a poor woman like me to know about the affairs of the great, my lord?” said Bridget. “Now, in my country, two gentlemen sit late at the wine, and maybe there’s a little difference of opinion, the cartes, or politics, or a lady—or maybe just a differ for the sake of a differ. And wan gives t’other a skelp on the side of the head, and if the man’s skull’s sound, where’s the harm? ’Tis done every day in Donegal and nobody a bit the worse! For it’s O’Neil’s country, my lord, and the skulls there are made thicker on purpose—such being the intintion of a merciful providence that created nothing in vain.”
“And can you give us no light on why Mr. Lalor Maitland wished harm to Mr. Richard Poole?”
Bridget shook her head slowly.
“Doubtless,” she said, “’twas something about property and a lass. For if money’s the root of all evil, as the Book says, sure and t’other—(that’s the woman) is the trunk and branches, the flowers, and the fruit!”
The mystery of the death of Mr. Richard Poole was never wholly cleared up. If anything was found among the private correspondence of the late member of the firm of Smart, Poole and Smart, certainly the firm did not allow it to transpire. It is practically certain that Bridget told all she knew. But, poring over the mystery afterwards, and putting all things carefully together, I became convinced that, under the name of Wringham Pollixfen Poole, Mr. Richard had mixed himself up in some highly treasonable business, which put his life within the power of the informer and traitor Lalor.
Consequently when the latter, an expert in disguises, found it necessary to take refuge with Bridget Connoway after the failure of the attack on Marnhoul, he could not have chosen a safer name or disguise.
Mr. Richard, he knew, could not betray him. If any trouble befell he would come at once and see him. So, in fact, when Richard Poole arrived, he demanded that, by the influence of his firm, the children should be at once returned to his tutelage. That Lalor dreamed of marrying Irma is evident, and what he meant to do with little Louis is equally clear—for his death would leave him heir to the properties.
But Richard proved unexpectedly stubborn. He refused flatly to have anything to do with Lalor’s schemes—whereupon the wild beast in the man broke loose. He struck and escaped. But it was a sudden fit of anger, probably repented of as soon as done, because it rendered unsafe a useful disguise.
In the case of Sir Louis the plot was deeper laid. From the boy’s borrowing of the gun, I believe that Louis had made up his mind to escape with his so-called uncle. But some condition or chance word of Lalor’s had caused a shadow of suspicion to arise in Louis’s mind. He had drawn back at the last moment. Whereupon, exasperated by failure, and possibly shaken by hearing me thundering at the door, Lalor had smitten, just as he had done in the case of Mr. Richard. Happily, however, with less result. The necessary weapon was not to his hand. The poisoned sword, with which he no doubt expected the boy to play till he pricked himself, was lying with the handle turned away from him.