The Great Agrarian Murder.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 65, 30 August 1884, Page 5

The Great Agrarian Murder.

Nicholas Flint, Lord Grabmore's agent, was, like his master, a well-hated man, but while the Peer was more hated by the tenantry than feared, the agent was more feared than hated. It was not tenderness on the part of his lordship which, before Nicholas Flint became his agent, prevented him from making a merciless uso of his power to evict, and the tenants — Irish peasants are, as a rule, shrewd judges of character — knew this. They never for a moment imagined that Lord Grabmoro's mildness towards them had been dictxited by consideration for them. They knew that he was essentially a cruel and seltish man, but that, like many cruel and selfish men, he was a coward, and hesitated to adopt severe measures to increase his somewhat scanty income, only because he was afraid their adoption would put his life in jeopardy. And they were right. Once he came under the influence of Flint's stronger nature, his whole conduct was changed. He employed without hesitation the most inhuman means to increase the value of his property ; indeed, after a time, their employment seemed to give him positive pleasure. Flint was of a different stamp from his lordship. He was a man of the most resolute determination and most reckless courage. Whenever he had made up his mind that anything should be done, no matter what misery it might produce, or what cryof shame it raised over the country, or what hatred and danger it brought upon himself, done it was. He was actuated by no feeling of hostility towards the unfortunate people who trembled before him. On the contrary, he was animated by the most conscientious conviction that in acting as he did he was doing his duty, not merely towards his employer, but towards society, and not morely towards society, but towards the tenants themselves. He had, as he often said, to be cruel to be kind. In fact, he was an ardent believer in, and victim of, the Irish agent's creed. It taught him that there could be no prosperity on an estate of «mall holdings, and to bring prosperity lie -evicted cottiers and united their plots. It taught him that nothing improved farming like salting well the land with rent; and to improve fanning he screwed the rents up to the highest iarthing. And undoubtedly, under this treatment, Lord Grabmore's estate greatly improved in appearance. But that improvement was bought with much suffering and the desolation of many humble homes. Whatever might be the result of this system of estate management, it could scarcely be expected that the existing generation of tenants, who suffered all its privations and experienced none of its benefits, would regard its originator with kindness ; and they did not. He was looked upon by them with absolute detestation and abject terror. They considered his CDnduct so atrocious as to be incredible in an ordinary human being. Many believed he must have sold him&elf to Satan, and not a few had a suspicion that he was the Old Gentleman himself. The whole country regarded him as the incarnation of evil, bringing with him all manner of trouble and misfortune wherever he went. Yet in his very character he found a certain protection from their ill-will. He went abroad, and mixed freely with the people, unarmed and unattended ; and though at the sight of his pale, delicate face, and thin drooping moustache, the children shrieked and the women crossed themselves, nobody interfered with him. He even wandered about the country at night alone ; yet the tenants sought only to keep out of his way. It was too dangerous a task to tackle such a fierce and dauntless enemy. Yet his few friends regarded his recklessness with misgivings, and felt that it must some day end in calamity. They again and again remonstrated with him, but without effect. The authorities offered him a police guard, but he rejected the offer with contemptFlint was a widower, but not childless. If, as his enemies alleged, his wife had died of a broken heart, no one could affirm that there was much likelihood of a similar fate befalling his two sons. These were now young men of three-and-twenty and one-and-twenty respectively, and as unlike their father as sons could well be. They were of a bright and frolicsome disposition, always enjoying themselves, and glad to see others doingthesame,butfoolhardy and thoughtless in the extreme. Their exuberant animal spirits and thoughtlessness were continually getting them into scrapes ; but never on one occasion was their father heard to address to them a single harsh word. His affection for them, indeed, was the one soft .spot in his hard heart. When these lads arrived from Dublin, where they were both studying for the Bar, to fepend their Christmas vacation with their father, the country had been for a long time convulsed by agrarian troubles. Hitherto, however, though there had been a few minor outrages on Lord Grabmore's estate, it had been free from murder. His lordship, aware of his unpopularity, had sought safety in England ; but Flint, although, if possible, still more unpopular, in no way altered his ways on account of the state of the country. He still, in spite of every remonstrance, persisted in his habit of going abroad at all houis, unarmed and alone. He rejected all offers of police protection, and seemed to rely for safety solely on the terror of his name; and apparently with good reason. JHis very recklessness led the superstitious tenantry to believe that he did not fear attack, because, by a compact with the de-v£2, he was assured for a certain time against death. But his few friends could not be blind to the risk to which he was exposing himself, and so strongly was his, danger felt by some of them that they might have been said to have awaited daily the news of his assassination. As the fear of outrage had driven most of the gentry from the neighbourhood, and as the farmers had put a stop to hunting, Mr Flint's boys had little company or sport to amuse them during their Christmas vacation ; and, a3 neither of them was of a studious disposition, before long they were at a loss how to kill the time. One day, as the elder of them, after having smoked until he was nearly sick, was wondering what he should do next, his brother Harry came up to him. "Nick," said he, " I've an idea." " Have you ?" said Nick. " Out with it." "What do you say, old fellow ?" This variation on the usual " Old boy " was suggested by Nick's name. "What do you say, old fellow, to our perpetrating a great agrarian murder ?" said Harry. "What?" cried Nick. "Do you mean we should murder some of the landlords or agents in the neighbourhood ?" " No, no ; only pretend to do it. Stuff an old suit of clothes with straw, take it out with us some night in the dog-cart, drive to Ballymulwhacking, throw it on the road, pour out some pig's blood -there are two to be killed to-morrow, you know— then fire two or three shots, and when the people are coming out of their houses, pitch the dummy back into the dog-cart and drive off like the deuce. That would create stir enough in the country to keep us in fun iill we get back to Dublin,"

" Very likely ; but what if wo'ro found out ?" " Not much chance of that. There's no horse-police near Ballymulwhacking, and with the black mare we could escape if thero were. Besides, even if we were found out, it wouldn't matter much." Nicholas did not altogether agree with this, and at first declined to take any part in the business ; but ultimately the impetuosity of his younger brother overcame his prudence, and they resolved to carry out the project the very next night. They searched up an old suit of their fathor's, stuffed it with straw, and tied on it one of his hats. Putting this in their dog-cart, and furnished bosides with some pigs' blood and a revolvor, they set out a few hours after dark. Making a wido circuit from their father's house, they reached Ballymulwhacking about midnight. The village was silent, every house was shut, and every inhabitant asleep. When they had passed through it to the end next their homo they began operations. Throwing some pig's blood upon the road, they tossed the dummy near it, and then Harry fired three shots from the revolver in not very rapid succession. Before ho had stoppod firing, half a dozen windows were opened, and as many heads popped out. He sprang to tho ground, and flung the dummy back into the dog- cart. By tho time he got back himself, several people, more or less un- . clothed, were in the road calling out and running towards them. The boys saw it was time to be off, so slashing the mare into a furious gallop, they rapidly disappeared from the villagers. They were three or four hundred yards past the last cottage, and were beginning to moderate tho marc's pace and laugh over the consternation they had caused, when they suddenly became aware that a horseman was following them. The clatter of their own animal and vehicle had prevented them until now from hearing him ; and when they became conscious of his presence he was close upon them. Onco more they put the mare to her swiftest pace, and, for a moment, seemed to be distancing their pursuer ; but their animal was tired by the long drive they had already taken, and it soon became evident that the horseman was gaining upon them. They could distinguish his figure in the dark — that of a fine, broad-shoul-dered man on a big, broad - breasted horse. They began to see that theii joke might turn out anything but enjoyable for them, and to think uith anything but pleasure of the scandal their absurd bohaviour would provoke. Every moment their pursuer came closer.^ If they were to escape, evidently something must be done. Harry, in his impulsive manner, determined to firo wide of tho horseman, in the hope that he might thus scare him from further pursuit. Turning in his seat lie aimed several yards off him and fired, but, as he did so, a sudden jolt of the dog-cart altered his position, and to his intense horror, both horse and rider went down before his pistol. Nicholas, who -nas driving, pulled up in a perfect agony of apprehension, and Harry sprang down to run to the fallen hor&eman's assistance. He had scarcely reached the ground, however, when he observed that the horseman was on his feet, and while Harry stood irresolute whether to go towards him or remount the dog-cart, the crack of the stranger's pistol and the whistling of the bullet past his ear determined him. He sprang back on tho dog-cart, and called on Nicholas to drive for his hfc. As the mare dashed off the stranger fired again, and the tearing of the ball through Harry's sleeve showed the boys the danger they were in. A third shot followed, but by that time the dog-cart was beyond pistol range, and they were safe. It was not until they had traversed several miles that they thought of moderating the mare's headlong pace. The country they were then in was spar&ely peopled ; and so, to avoid being noticed, and as there seemed no reason to believe that they were being followed, they slackened speed and began to talk over their night's adventures. It was no longer the mere innocent fun it appeared to bebeforo the horseman turned up. They had, they fully saw, got into a serious scrape, and they could not help acknou lodging to themselves that, if they were discovered, it was possible that at the approaching as-sizes they might have to defend themselves against the charge of attempted murder. The only consoling point they could find in thewholebusines&wasthat their pursuer had not been, as they had at one time feared, injured by the shot ; the bullet had evidently struck the horse only — probably on one of the forelegs. For a time they were in doubt whether it would not be the wisest course to go in the morning to the police-station and confess all. They might by so doing escape any danger of being indicted. But, after some discussion they agreed that, as the chance of discovery was small and the ignominy of confession great, the best they could do was to take every possible precaution to bailie inquiry. They accordingly pulled the dummy to pieces, and cast the straw with which it was stuffed into a road-side ditch. While doing so they noticed, to their alarm, that the hat was missing. Upon considera tion, however, they became reassured. It was extremely unlikely that an old felt hat, such as halt" the farmers in the country wore, would be anything like a sufficient clue to put the police on the right scent. Then, having finished the work of dismantling the dummy, they drove round by a circuitous route, so as to reach their father's house by a different road from that leading from Ballymulwhacking. When they reached home they were pleased to see that nobody was yet about. They entered quietly, and, after putting up the horse and dog-cart, and hiding the old clothes, they went to their bedrooms without apparently disturbing any of the house's sleeping inmates. Though both the boys were extremely tired by their night's exertions, neither of them slept well. They could not free their minds from the fear that the morning would bring exposure of the whole absurd affair, and, though their father had always shown them great indulgence in their boyish escapades, they felt that their present behaviour had overstepped the bounds of even his patience. Besides, even should he find no iault with them, they knew that their conduct, if discovered, must give him considerable pain, and, as they both bore him undoubted affection, this knowledge did not contribute to their peace of mind. It was early morning, and Nicholas had just at length fallen into a troubl«d 3leep, when he was awakened by a rather loud knocking at the door. The first thought that came into his head was that everything had been found out. Springing out of bed, he asked in a stern voice what all the row was about. " Oh 1 sir," said the old housokeeper from without— "Oh ! sir, the master didn't come last night, and there's a policeman below inquiring about him. I'm afraid homething bad has happened to him, sir." In a second all recollection of last night's adventures was out of young Nick's head. "Call Harry," he said, "and tell the policeman I'll be with him in a minute." Hastily throwing on some clothes, he hurried down to the hall where the policeman was awaiting him. It was old Sergeant Grimshaw, whom he knew well— a rugged and clear-sighted old fellow from the North, Before he had well returned

Nicholas's salutation, Harry came running down in his dressing-gown from his bedroom, palo and excited. "Woll, sergeant," said Nicholas, "1 hear you are asking about my fathor j has anything happened to him ?" "I greatly fear it, sir," replied Grimshaw, in his strong Ulster accent and official style. "Last night sub-constables O'Mulligan and O'Reilly, when out on night-duty, heard several shots, but when they reached the placo tho offenders had disappeared; though it was clear that a murderous outrage had boon committed, for the road was covored with blood. Sub-Inspector Hurry just then arrived. Ho was riding home from his uncle's in tho Mullamoro direction, where he had been dining. Hearing that the criminals had drivon off, ho pursued them, but when ho overtook them they fired on him, and broke his horse's log. Afterwards &üb-constablo O'Mulligan found on tho road a hat with your father's initials in it and a pistol-shot through it. Thoy took the body with them, and we haven't yel found it." " And where did this take place, sergeant ?" asked Nicholas, his face pale with excitement. "At Ballymul whacking," sir," replied the sergeant. Tho two brothors glanced at one another in confusion. Thoy know not what to say. At length Nicholasasked if tho sub-inspector washurt. "No, sir," answered the sergeant, " only a bit shaken." "Would he recognise his assailants again ?" "No, sir, he doesn't think he would. Tho night was very dark, and lie saw littlo of them ; but he noticed by the flash of their pistol that they weren't dressed like farmers, but townspeople. I may say, your honours," added the sergeant, in a confidential -way, and at the same timo with a knowing air, "I may say, your honours, we have a suspicion that they aic agents sent up from London to do the job." Nicholas rcilected for a moment, and then said: "Well, sergeant, if you wait until wo dress, wo'll go with you to tho subinspector." "Well, sir," said the sorgeant, "I'm in charge of the men searching the road the murderers drove off by, for tho body, and I'd rather go there. But Mr Hurry told me to call here and request you to go to him at Bally muhvhacking a» soon as you could." This tho young men agreed to do, and the sergeant took his departure. As soon as ho was gone they retired to Harry'? bedroom, and there began to consider whether they should at onco explain to tho sub-inspector tho true- version "of the Ballymulwhacking affair, or wait to see how things would turn out. One thing seemed clear — something serious had befallen their father. Though he was accustomed to tako midnight walk.", he never had been known to remain out long after midnight ; and neither of tho boys could doubt that ho had been murdered. To allow, then, the police to remain even for an hour on the wrong scent, was simply to play into tho murderers' hands — perhaps to secure them their escape from justice. The boys therefore determined to go straight to tho subinspector and confess all. Just as they ■were starting off for this purpose, the postmaster arrived with some letters. Nicholas glanced hurriedly at tho superscriptions. One of them seemed strange to him. The letter it wat> on Mas from Cork, and was addressed to himself:, Ho tore it open, and tho moment his eye met the writing he almost fainted. After reading the contents rapidly he handed it to Harry. It ran as follows :—: — My deak Boys,— l am a ruined man. I have abused my position to rob my employer. It was all through stock speculation. I always 1 nought my luck would change, and so kept on until all hope was gone. I had not the heart to tell you, my boys, how I had disgraced you. lam bound for America, and you'll nover hoar of me again. Thank God, tho pittance your mother left you will save you from starvation. May God protect you, is the one prayer of your heartbroken Father. The brothers wero dumbfounded. They could not for a time realise their position. When they became calmer, how- [ over, and considered the state of affairs, they found it somewhat improved. Their father's life, at least, was safe, and if thoy only let the polico persist on the scent they were following, his honour too might bo preserved. They proceeded, therefore, to the sub-inspector, and, after a long consultation with him, agreed that the perpetrators of the Ballymulwhacking outrage must be their father's murdeiers, and that the proper course was to discover them. They were the bolder in recommending this, as they found that the sub-inspector did not for a moment suspect them. Great attempts were made to discover the miscreants, and largo rewards were offered — the sons themselves promising one of £250 ; but it i? scarcely necessary to say that the crime remained a mystei'y.