“It’s false!” exclaimed I, betraying more confusion at this sudden announcement than was good for me. “I was once forced, years ago, with a gun at my head, to repeat the words or some of them; but I was never properly sworn!”
“How did you hear of the attempt that was to be made on Mr Gorman?” demanded the officer suspiciously.
“By accident, sir. I overheard the whole plot.”
“Where?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m not under arrest?”
At this the officer glared at me, his honour drummed his fingers on the table, and the other magistrate looked sharply up.
“We can remedy that in a moment,” said he; “and will do so unless you treat this court with more respect. We require you to say if you know the meeting-place of this gang.”
“Sure, your honour, I’m after telling you—” began Flanagan, when he was peremptorily ordered to be silent.
“Answer the question!” thundered the officer, “or—”
Mr Gorman looked up. He had his own good reasons for preventing any revelations as to the secret uses to which Kilgorman had been put in past times.