“Ferreting out!” thought the stranger—“what does the old scoundrel mean?” Yet, on second consideration, he could not for the soul of him avoid admitting that, considering the nature of the task he was engaged in, it was by no means an inappropriate illustration.
“No,” said he, “we have made no progress, but we still trust that you will enable us to advance a step. I have already told you that we only wish to come at the principals. Their mere instruments we overlook. You seem to be a poor man—but listen to me—if you can give us any assistance in this affair, you shall be an independent one during the remainder of your life. Provided murder has not been committed I guarantee perfect safety to any person who may have only acted under the orders of a superior.”
“Take your time,” replied the old man, with a peculiar expression. “Did you ever see a river?”
“Of course,” replied the other; “why do you ask?”
“Well, now, could you, or any livin' man, make the strame of that river flow faster than its natural course?”
“Certainly not,” replied the stranger.
“Well, then—I'm an ould man and be advised by me—don't attempt to hurry the course o' the river. Take things as they come. If there's a man on this earth that's a livin' divil in flesh and blood, it's Sir Thomas Gourlay, the Black Barrownight; and if there's a man livin' that would go half way into hell to punish him, I'm that man. Now, sir, you said, the last day you were here, that you were a gentleman and a man of honor, and I believe you. So these words that have spoken to you about him you will never mention them—you promise that?”
“Of course I can, and do. To what purpose should I mention them?”
“For your own sake, or, I should say, for the sake of the cause you are engaged in, don't do it.”
The bitterness of expression which darkened the old man's features, while he spoke of the Baronet, was perfectly diabolical, and threw him back from the good opinion which the stranger was about to form of him, notwithstanding his conduct on the previous day's visit.