“'Well,' said the spokesman, 'will you give that letther,' handin' me this, 'to Mr. M'Carthy?'” and as the pedlar spoke he placed the note in M'Carthy's hands. “'Do so,' says the fellow, 'as soon as you can—if possible, widout an hour's delay. It consarns himself and it consarns me—can I depend on you to do this?' I said I would: and now there's the letther—-my message is delivered.”
M'Carthy read as follows:—“Francis M'Carthy, as you regard the life of the man that saved yours last night, you won't breathe a syllable about seein' a young man's corpse last night in the shebeen-house, nor about anything that happened to you in it, till you hear further from me. If you're grateful, and a gintleman, you won't; but if you're a traitor, you will. Your friend, as you act in this.”
“Now, Mr. Frank,” said the, pedlar, “as you know the danger that's about you, I say that unless you get out o' the counthry at wanst, you'll only have a hand in your own death if anything happens. You're, goin' now, I suppose, to Mr. Purcel's; if you are—if it wouldn't be troublesome—jist say that the Cannie Soogah will call there in the coorse o' the mornin' for breakfast.”
He then turned off by a different road; and M'Carthy proceeded at, a very slow pace towards the proctor's, which lay in a right line between the house to which the White-boy had brought him and O'Driscol's. As he reached the back yard, by which he intended to enter, anxious to get himself washed before any of them should see him—he was met by Mogue, who after a glance or two recognized him at once by his shooting-dress.
“Why thin, good fortune to me, Misther Frank, is this you?”
“It is, Mogue; but I have no time to speak to you now. Only get me soap and a towel till I wash my face at the pump here. These are strange times, Mogue, and that was a very suspicious place of refuge to which you brought me; however, it will go hard or we shall make Mr. Frank Finnerty speak out, and to some purpose too. Get me soap and towel quick—-I do not wish to be seen with this diabolical-looking face upon me.”
“That I may be blest, sir, but the same face surprises me. Wisha, then, Mr. Frank, might one ax—”
“No,” replied M'Carthy, “do as I have desired you—some other time you may hear it, but not now.”
At this moment, Mogue, who was very circumspect in all his looks as well as in all his motions, saw by a side glance that Julia, on coming down the stairs, saw M'Carthy—a circumstance which delighted his very heart, inasmuch as he resolved to so manage it, that it might be made to confirm the hint he had already thrown out against M'Carthy—if that could be called a hint which was a broad and undisguised assertion. He accordingly watched until an opportunity presented itself of addressing her apart from listeners; and in the course of the morning, as she went to look after some favorite flowers in the garden, he met her at the gate.
“Miss Julia,” said he, “I wish to spake one word to you, i' you plaise, miss.”