Chapter 33

BILLY CROOM

�But the game is not played out yet,� said Mr Fanshawe; �we have nearly twenty-four hours before us. I�ll hocus the horses, I�ll get Patsy to take the lynch-pins out of the brougham, I�ll do something�anything�before letting him win like that. The case is desperate. It will be two years before you are of age and your own mistress.�

�Two years, three months and three�no�four days,� said Miss Lestrange.

�He will take you away from here and bottle you up somewhere, or put you in Chancery or something�I know him! He will keep you so close I will never be able to see you or speak to you. He will intercept my letters�we will be able to make no plans. We will be separated two years certain�I may die, you may die�you may get to care for some one else. I have a conviction that if we don�t carry out our plan, and go away with one another day after to-morrow, something will divide us for ever.�

�Dicky!� said the girl.

�Yes?�

�You know what you said about doing something to the horses or the carriage.�

�Yes.�

�Don�t�leave everything to me.�

�What will you do?�

�Never mind; I have made a plan.�

�Tell me it,� said Dicky. �I may be able to improve on it.�

�I will do as Mr Boxall has done.�

�But you haven�t a glass eye.�

�No, but I can catch influenza.�

�Hurrah!� cried Dicky. �I never thought of that�but can you?�

�What?�

�Do the thing properly. What are the symptoms of influenza?�

�You sneeze,� said Violet.

�Can you?�

�No, I�m afraid I can�t; however, we�ll leave that part out. I can say I�ve sneezed.�

�What are the other symptoms?�

�Pains in the bones and headache�Dicky!�

Miss Lestrange suddenly pinched her companion�s arm.

�What?�

�Look!�

A broad, red face was peeping at them from behind a tree-bole.

�Why, I�m blest if it isn�t the burglar chap!� said Mr Fanshawe.

The body belonging to the face came forth from behind the tree-bole, and Mr Murphy, greatly tattered, evidently exhausted, but still grinning, stood before them.

�Faith,� said Mr Murphy, with a tone of happy recognition, �it�s yourself, sor, and glad I am to see you.�

�Can�t return the compliment,� said Mr Fanshawe.

�I�m bone dry,� said Mr Murphy, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth. �Near run off me legs. I�ve left me ould hat in the brambles beyant, and it�s sorry I am to appear before the young lady all rags an� tatters�whisht!�

Shouts and haloos came from the distance, and the yapping of a dog.

�They�re afther me still!� said Mr Murphy, as though he were speaking to confederates. �Listen to �um, Mr Fanshawe, sir, you�re a gintleman, you won�t be givin� me away, will you, if they axes have you seen me?�

�Not I,� said Dicky. �But don�t waste time here talking, hook it as hard as you can; they are coming.�

�Unhappy man!� cried Violet, gazing with dilated eyes at the tattered figure before her.

�Make haste! Dicky, have you no money to give him to help him? Listen�they are coming�don�t wait to be taken�fly!�

�It�s into the tree I�ll be flyin� if you get off me dure-step, miss,� said the pursued one, buttoning the one button of his coat and preparing to climb. �It�s me house is this ould tree, an� I�ve lived in her a month wid me ear to the ground for the polis. Aisy does it.�

He got on to the moss-grown root, placed his arms round the bole, and, scrambling like a great tom-cat, in half a moment was gone from sight.

�Come,� said Dicky to the girl, �let us go.�

�Wan minit,� came a voice from the tree.

�Well, what is it?�

�Sure, y� ain�t goin� to lave me!� complained the voice. �If they strike the ould tree they�ll sarch it sure. Misther Fanshawe!�

�Yes?�

�For the love of God, sit down an� talk aisy to the young lady. There�s Con Cogan knows I�ve hid here, and wan or two more�the sight of the young lady will drive thim away as the blessed angels drives the divils.�

�Well, of all the cheek!� said Mr Fanshawe.

�Dicky, dear!� said Violet, laying her hand on his arm. �He�s running away.�

�Well, what of that?�

�Think, if we were running away, if we were chased, and if we found a tree to hide in, think how glad we would be to have some one to�to help us.�

�Listen to her voice!� came a voice from the tree that seemed communing with itself. �Sure, it�s like running wather over pebbles to hear her.�

�It would be unlucky for us,� went on she, �not to help a person who���

�Yes, it would,� said Dicky. �Sit down. All right�we�ll do what we can for you.�

�God in hivin bless you; may God in hivin rain His blessin�s on you; may the saints make your bed, and the howly angels smooth your pillas; may the���

�Shut up!� said Mr Fanshawe.

�Listen!� said Violet.

Voices were audible in the wood close by.

�Swear be all�s blew you saw me runnin� towards Castle Knock,� came the voice, muted and confidential.

�Hold your beastly tongue,� replied Mr Fanshawe, irritated at the way in which the rascal had made him a tool to assist his flight, and the familiar tone of his voice.

�Here they are,� said Violet.

A spot of dingy scarlet showed through the trees, and next moment Billy Croom, followed by Con Cogan, broke into the glade.

�That�s the tree!� cried Con. �Musha! but who�s them?�

When the rabble had run Mr Murphy to earth, or rather into the wood, they paused. They did not mind pursuing him across the open a hundred strong. Pursuing him through the wood was quite a different matter, for pursuit through a wood means breaking up into small parties, and there was not a man amongst the lot who would have tackled Mr Murphy, even with the assistance of a couple of others.

�Lave him be!� cried the populace. �Sure, you might as well hunt for a needle in the siven acres. More�s the pity, with the reward out aginst him, and all.�

�What�s the reward?� asked Billy Croom.

�A hundred pound.�[3]

[3] The reward, as entered in the Police Register, was �10; ten times ten makes a hundred.

�A hundred pound, and him in the wood!�

�Ay, a hundred pound.�

�Sure, I�d chase a hundred divils through a hundred woods for that,� said Billy Croom, slipping off his horse. �Here, Bob Mahony, take a hoult of the reins.�

�He�ll murther you!� cried the populace.

�Will he, begob?� said the whip, his lean, dark, devilish face lighting up with battle.

�Mr Croom!� came a voice. It was the voice of Con Cogan, who, assured that the police were absent, had been hanging round the tail of the proceedings like a carrion crow.

�What is it?� asked Croom.

�I can tell yiz where you�ll find �um. What will yiz give me?�

�I�ll give you a tin poun� note out of the hundred,� replied the huntsman, approaching close to Con.

�Then you can hand it over, for he�s in the ould oak tree widout a top to it.�

�Where�s that?�

�Sure, where would it be, but in the wood?�

The populace tittered. They thought Con was �having� the whip, otherwise such base treachery would have condemned Mr Cogan to a speedy and literal downfall.

�What part of the wood?� demanded the whip.

�Two hundred yards, maybe, to the lift of the drive, before you rache the turnin� to the Druids� Althar.�

�He�s gave Paddy away!� cried the onlookers, who perceived from the exact directions that there was no joking in the matter. �He�s bethrayed him�oh, the baste!�

�Lave him to me,� said Croom, as disgusted as the rest, but still determined to use Mr Cogan.

�Now, then, you holy scarecrow, lay on to the sint, into the wood wid you before me.�

They were a picture. The lean, dark-faced whip all fight and energy; Con, with his brigand�s appearance, and his face of an ideal stage-robber, wilting before the other.

�Lay on!� cried the huntsman.

�Let up!� cried Con. �Lave me be�who are you afther talking to? Help! Mary! Moses!�

The thong of the whip curled round his legs. Then, whip in one hand and grasping the collar of Con�s old coat in the other, Croom ran the villain in amidst the trees, and they were lost to sight.

The populace danced.

�On you go before me,� said Croom, releasing the collar. �Play me crucked, and I�ll brain yiz with the butt-end of me whip.�

�I�ll go quiet,� replied the other. �But, sure, it�s the fear of Paddy Murphy that�s before me.�

�Faith, it�s the fear of Billy Croom that�s behind yiz. On you go. Which way, now?�

�To the lift.�

Con led fair and straight, and in ten minutes they had reached the little path that led to the Druids� Altar.

�To the lift again,� said Con. �There�s the ould tree�musha, but who�s them!�

�Sit quiet,� said Mr Fanshawe to Violet; �we may be able to bluff them without telling lies.�

Con, seeing Mr Fanshawe and knowing the strength of Croom, began to lose fear of Paddy Murphy, and did not bolt away as he might otherwise have done, but waited�for his own undoing�to see the sport.

Croom touched his hat to Mr Fanshawe�s scarlet coat.

�Beg pardon, sir,� said he, �but have you seen a sight of that chap we was chasin�?�

�I have,� replied Mr Fanshawe. �What do you want with him?�

�Faith,� said Croom, �I want to kitch him.�

�And what do you want to catch him for?� asked Mr Fanshawe.

�You must ax the polis that,� replied the huntsman. �They can bile him, for all I care, all I wants is to kitch him, and if you axes me why, it�s because there�s a hundred pounds reward aginst him, and I�ve a wife and childer.�

�Well, you can go home to your wife and childer, and tell them you�ve lost a hundred pounds to-day, for you�re not going to catch him.�

A blaze came into the eyes of Billy Croom and was smothered.

�I�m not wishful to be disrespectful, sir,� said Billy, �I�m axing you have you seen him?�

�I told you before, I have.�

�And where was that?�

�Here.�

�Con Cogan!� said the whip.

�Yes,� replied Con.

�Is this the tree or not.�

�It is.�

�Well, then, sir,� said Billy, �I�m not wishin� to be disrespectful, but is the chap in the ould tree behind you, or is he not?�

�He is,� replied Mr Fanshawe.

�That�s all right,� said the whip, buttoning his coat and approaching the tree. �It�s worse than tacklin� a badger in a barrel, but I�ll do it.�

�Stop,� said Mr Fanshawe.

�Who�s goin� to stop me?� enquired Billy, the blaze lighting up again in his eyes.

�I am.�

�For sure?� said Billy.

�Yes, for sure, he�s under my protection�do you want him?�

�I�m goin� to have him.�

�I say, do you want him?� repeated Mr Fanshawe, rising to his feet.

�O� course I want him.�

�Then, you�ll have to fight me for him.�

�O Dicky!� murmured Violet.

�It�s a question of honour,� said Mr Fanshawe. �I don�t know why I should fight this scoundrel�s battles, but he has placed himself under my protection, and I�m not going to give him up.� Then, in a lower voice: �You wouldn�t have it otherwise?�

�No,� said Violet, shivering; �but tell me before you begin, and I�ll shut my eyes, and�stop my ears.�

�Misther Fanshawe.�

The voice came from above. Dicky looked up. Mr Murphy had scrambled up, and was leaning over the tree-top rim.

�Misther Fanshawe, there�s no call for fightin�. I�ll come down and settle me account peaceful wid Billy Croom. I�ll go wid him quiet, for I�m sure to be cocht anyhow, and he may as well have the hundred pound as another. Aisy, now, Mr Fanshawe, and listen to me. I�ll go wid Billy on one condijion.�

�What�s that?� asked Mr Fanshawe, glad to be done with the business.

�That you take hould of Con Cogan�s arm over there, and hould him till I ax you to loose him, for I�m powerful anxious to say a word to him before I goes to prizon.�

�Right!� said Dicky, stepping over to where Con stood and taking hold of his arm.

�I ax you, sir,� said Mr Murphy, �not to loose him till I say when.�

�Right!� said Mr Fanshawe.

�Now,� said Mr Murphy, whipping a frightful-looking old horse pistol into view and levelling it at the head of Billy Croom, who stood right at the bottom of the tree, �now that all�s settled. I�m going to have a word wid me friend, Billy. Move the hundredth part of an inch, y� widge-faced houn�, and your brains go on the grass. Misther Fanshawe, will yiz ax the young lady to go away beyant and shut her eyes and ears?�

�Go quick!� cried Dicky, and he had not to repeat his words. �Hi, you scoundrel, stop it! You�re not going to shoot the man.�

�Mr Fanshawe,� went on the man in possession of affairs, �you�ve give your word�this is betune Billy and me, man to man. Billy Croom, have I thrumped your ace, or have I not?�

Billy was a very brave man, but he knew the infernal devil in the tree, and his utter recklessness when moved by whisky or rage.

�You have,� said Billy.

�You came afther me for gowld, and I�m goin� to give yiz lead,� said Mr Murphy, �if yiz as much as blinks wan eye before I lays down me conditions of war. They�ll be hard, Billy Croom, but, begob! they�ll be better than hell.�

Dicky, holding Con by the sleeve, looked on fascinated. Intuition told him that Murphy would kill the man under him, if the man under him moved so much as a finger, for there was that in Murphy�s face which was beyond the earth.

�What�s you afther?� asked Croom, whose breath was coming hard.

�Strip!� said the other��all but your britches and brogues; I�ll lave you those for dacency sake.�

�I�ll be��if I do!� said Croom.

�I�ve said it wanst, I�ll say it twice, and if I say it three times, I�ll shut�strip!�

Croom stripped.

�Shut your eyes,� cried Dicky, and a voice came from the wood:

�They�re shut.�

�Now,� said Mr Murphy to the half-naked figure before him, �I�ll give yiz a chanst. I�m goin� to count five; at the fifth sthroke I�ll fire if there�s a speck of yiz to be seen. Use your legs�Wan�two�three�four��Mr Fanshawe, sir!�

�Yes?�

�Did yiz happen to see a party be the name of Billy Croom around here anywhere in the neebourhood to-day?�

�I did,� said Mr Fanshawe, �but he seems to have gone.�

�Faith,� said Mr Murphy, putting his leg over the edge of his fortress and scrambling down, �he�s left his clothes behint him.� He approached Mr Fanshawe and the trembling Con. �There�s a lady in the wood, sir, and maybe you�ll be escorthin� her home. Good-mornin�, Con Cogan, I have a word to say with you.�

�Don�t lave me with him, sir,� implored Con, �or it�s me brains he�ll be blowin� out.�

�Don�t you be afear�d, sir,� said Paddy; �sure, he hasn�t any brains to blow. I�m not goin� to hurt a feather of him.�

�Well, I can�t stay here all day,� said Mr Fanshawe; �you must settle your differences between you. What are you going to do? The police will have you, sure. Why don�t you get out of the country?�

�Sure, where could I go?� said Mr Murphy.

�Go to America. Here�s a couple of sovereigns for you; and, see here, if you�ll make up your mind to cut the country I�ll help. Apply to me at No. 10A Merrion Square, Dublin, and I�ll pay your passage, and give you a fiver to start you.�

�Sure, what could I do in Amerika?� said Mr Murphy, pocketing the coins without a word of thanks.

�Do? Why, go on the stock exchange�no, go into politics, that�s your true position in life. You waste your time here. Well, I�m off�good-day.�

�Good-day to yiz,� replied the other. �Sure, it�s you I�d like to have at me elbow in a row.�

�Oh, I think you�re able to look after yourself;� said Mr Fanshawe, as he departed.

�I�m not a chicken,� replied the other. �Good-day to yiz. Come, Con, we�ve words to say to wan another.�

�O Dicky,� said Violet, when�having found each other by hallooing�they pressed their lips together, �I�m so frightened. Has he shot him?�

�No,� replied Mr Fanshawe, chuckling, �but he�s done nearly as bad. Come on, and let�s find the road; it�s half-past twelve, and that confounded luncheon will be kept waiting for us again.�