"Only the big, black letthers, misther."
This explained Mungovan's ignorance of Floyd's arrest. It seemed to be an accident that the two had never met in prison. Though they occupied cells in the same ward, their daily work carried them to opposite parts of the yard, Mungovan's to the harness-shop under "Slim" Butler; Robert's to the greenhouses near the team gate.
"Misther!" The poor wretch clasped Shagarach's wrist and drew the lawyer's ear to his lips again.
"Misther, will you bury me where Ellen is buried?"
"I'll see if that can be done."
"Misther!" The man's eyes were glazing. "Look!" He fumbled with aspen fingers in his breast, finally drawing forth an envelope. From this he removed a ringlet of black hair, probably a love-lock of Ellen's. Then he showed the inclosed writing to Shagarach. It was not addressed.
"Read it," he whispered. "Ellen gev it me to carry."
Shagarach opened the envelope and read in a servant-girl's painstaking hand the following words:
"The peddler has not come for two days, so I send you this by a trustworthy messanger. As I rote you in my last, the professor said in the study, 'Harry gets his deserts.' That was all I could hear only he and Mr. Robert talked for a long time afterwards. The will is in the safe in the study. If I hear ennything more I will let you know, and please send me the money you promised me soon."
There was neither address nor signature to this document.