“And are you sure,” replied Greatrakes, “that it is not his Evil Eye that is killing his brother?”
“I don't know that,” replied Barney; “perhaps it may be so.”
“No,” replied Greatrakes, “from all I have read and heard of its influence it cannot act upon persons within a certain degree of consanguinity.”
“I would take my oath,” said honest Barney, “that it is the poison that acts in this instance.”
He then gave him a description of Woodward's having poured the poison—or at least what he suspected to be such—into the drink which was usually left at the bedside of his brother, and of its effect upon the dog.
Greatrakes, on hearing this, drew up his horse, and looking Barney sternly in the face, asked him,—
“Pray, my good fellow, did Mr. Woodward ever injure or offend you?”
“No, sir,” replied Barney, “never in any instance; but what I say I say from my love for his brother, whose life, I can swear, he is tampering with. It is a weak word, I know, but I will use a stronger, for I say he is bent upon his murder by poison.”
“Well,” said Greatrakes, “keep your counsel for the present. I will study this matter, and examine into it; and I shall most certainly receive your informations against him; but I must have better opportunities for making myself acquainted with the facts. In the meantime keep your own secret, and leave the rest to me.”
When Greatrakes reached Rathfillan House the whole family attended him to the sick bed of Charles. Woodward was there, and appeared to feel a deep interest in the fate of his brother. Greatrakes, on looking at him, said, before he applied the sanative power which God had placed in his constitution,—