CHAPTER XLX. UNKNOWN

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 317, 17 November 1888, Page 6

CHAPTER XLX. UNKNOWN

As we" have said, Tim Fogarty, alia s Murple, was in a most wretched guise. During the fortnight which had elapsed since his hurried flight from the hotel in Dublin, after his. recognition of Lame Bill, he had passed througn the several stages of seediness and poverty, and now presented a strong family resemblance to the great tribe of beggars which infest all the Irish and English cities. It was a wonder that even his mother had the courage and the affection to reoognis-e and to claim him. It was no wonder that the smooth, mild-faced, srentle - seeming lawyer, scanning him so closely through his gentle, half-shut eye.% should deem him an emissary of the father of Evil, and iusb the man of all others to assist him in carrying out his nofarious plans. Fogarty, or Murple, had not followed the j circuTtous route of tiignt laid out tor him by Bassantyne, and which had been intended to bring him at its close to Ballyconnor. He had intended to follow it to the letter, and had indeed gone to Drogheda, but. there had fallen in with some jolly ale-house frequenters, made their acquaintance, and remained to cultivate their society until his money was all spout in drinking and gaming. The end of the fortnight found him still at Drogheda, j.oor and pennile&s, his best garments disposed of for board, and utter destitution staring him in the face. At this crisis ot affairs he had decided to write to Bassantyne to send him money, aud was indeed on his way to a stationer's to invest his last three-pence in paper, pen and a stamp for the purpose, when to his horror he encountered his old enemy. Lame Bill, face to face. Losing his courage utteily at this rencontre, and comprehending in an instant that Lame Bill was searching for him, .Fogarty turned and fled down the nearest street, darting into alleys and hallways, and never resting until he had distanced Lame Bill, who had sprung after him in quick pursuit. The fugitive did. nob return to the iun where he had been lounging, but, with a wholesome horror of the law, with which Lame Bill was now associated in his eyes, he struck out for the open country, and made his way by slow and circuitous routes bo Clondalkiu, begging his food as he went, and sleeping at night in brick yards or under hedges. He had arrived at Clondalkin a half hour before midnight on this night of Michael Kildare's visit to his ward, and had stolen, with slow and creeping steps, to Yew Cottage. He entered the cottage like a burglar, and found himself, to his terror and amazement, confronted not only by his mother, but by the Dublin lawyer," whom he had formerly known, and whom he recognised in an instant. That his encounter with Mr Kildare boded him no good he seemed to feel instinctively, for be tried desperately to break loose from his mother's clinging embrace, treating her with a roughness which he might have bestowed upon Lame Bill himself. ' Let me go, will you ?' he cried, half choked and wholly maddened. • Let go your hold, I say. ' Do you want to hang me?' He tore from his neck her long, stout arms, and was about to make his escape, when the lawyer quietly closed and locked the door, withdrawing the key. * What are you afraid of, Tim '(' asked Mr Kildare, in his soft, mellifluous tones. ' Not of me, surely ? I wouldn't betray you for a thousand pounds. You are as safe with me as with your own mother.' Fogarty looked at the lawyer doubtfully and sullenly, and with a treacherous expression in his eyes. As he had no money, he regavded the lawyer as his natural enemy. 'I know all about you,' continued Mr Kildare, fixing his cat-like gaze full upon the fugitive. 'I know that you are an escaped, convict, and that the Dublin police, through some strange quarter, have got wind of your presence in the country. J know, too, that they are looking for you and a fellow-convict- of yours — a scheming, murderous fellow, with the manners and looks of a gentleman. I know that a heavy reward is offered for this man's capture and yours, and that more than one person is anxious to haadle the reward money. 1 The fugitive breathed hard. Adangerous look appeared on his savage face. He worked his hands nervously. ' You know too much !' he muttered. The lawyer smiled. 1 Not so,' he answered. *[ like a fellow of pluck. I like you, Tim Fogarty. You have only to say the word and you and I can be friends, and on the best of terms. More than that -while I am protecting you I can pub you in the way bf making a bib of money. I have gob a little irregular business on hand, and 1 want somebody to help me in it.' - Irregular, eh ?' muttered Tim. * Well, I'm your man. I'm used to 'irregular' business— l am. Anything in the way of a house burning. That's what I took my v'y'ge for, you may remember ; or would you want something that another chap owns 5 I'm good at lagging.' 'I'll tell you what I want, but not just yet,' said Mr Kildare. 'Just now you want food and drink. ' You look famished. ' 'I am, very neai',' assented Fogarty. * I've had nothing to eat since noon.' ' Then the first thing to be done is to give you some food,' said the lawyer. ' Mrs Fogarty, the shutters are closed in the ] parlour, aud Tim and I will go in there and wait while you bring up some supper.' As he spoke he opened the parlour door and passed into the room, taking the candle with him. Tim followed him. Left bo themselves, the two men sat down facing each other, and soon arrived at an understaridiug, so far that Fogarty trusted the lawyer and felt at ease in his presence, #nd Kildare came to the conclusion that by playing upon the fears and the greed of the escaped convict he could mould him to his will. Mrs Fogarty came up with another light, arid a tray laden with cold meat,, bread, and a bottle of ale, she having a weakness for Dublin porter and kindred jbeverages. The fugitive took the bray on his knees and fell to eating as if nearly starved. The lawyer watched him as he ate, and studied his countenance closely. 'He has more of the animal in him than of the intellectual/ thought Kildare. * Odd that there's euch a difference in families.

There's Mrs Liffey, this fellow'fc aunt, who only needs tine clothes to blossom out us a lady. 1 could do worse than marry her, although I don't intend to do that. And here's Mrs Fogarby, Mrs Liffey's sister, alsoa gentlewoman by birth, but of coarse nature and vulgar soul, ready to do anything bad for "money. And here's Mrs Fogarby 5 s son, who ought to be a respectable tradesj man, or even an architect, like Mr Lifiey, or a professional man ; and what is he ? oSTo street gamin grown to manhood could have greater aptitude for crime than Tim Fog-arty. And no street thief has a viler record than he. And perhaps, as far as Tarn concerned, it is just as well. If I were to marry Mrs Liffey, no one would ever need to know that this wretch Fogarfcy is her nephew. But 1 do not intend to marry her, and shall get rid of her justwhen she cease&> to be upoful to me. So with this fellow. Meanwhile he can be very useful to me!' None of these dark i ejections, however, appeared in the gentle, soft-featured face of the elderly lawyer. Instead, a benevolent smile glowed on his delicate vi°age, and ho stroked his chin leisurely with one small, white hand. When Fogarty had appeased his hunger and cleared the tray, the lawyer-said : * Now you may leave us, Mrs Fogarty. Tim and I have business to talk over. You will have the rest of the nigh I to talk with him, you know.' [ The widow assented, and took up the tray and the extra light and withdrew. When the sound of her foots-teps had died out of the hall, and .Mrs Fogarty had gone up to her own room, Air Kildare quietly locked the parlour door, and drew his chair to that of the fugitive. ' Now let us understand each othor. my triend/ he said. ' 1 have got a bis job on hand for you. You will have to work cautiously, and in disguise. When you shall have finished the job 1 shall require you tolea\ethe country — to emigrate, in fact.' ' On twenty pounds ':' 'No ; if the job is well done you shall have enough to take you across the ocean and set you up in borne decent business. But it must be understood that you will g°- ' 'Oh, yes, I'll go, N said Fogurty, glibly, adding, mentally, that he would go down to Wicklow and hide at Ballyconnor, where he would be as safe as in America. ' And now what is the business ?' The lawyer hesitated. lie was* not a man to put himself in the power of another ; yet here it became absolutely necessary, for the furtherance ot his plans, to make a confidant in some sort of this man. Alter a little silence spent in clo&e study of^ Fogarty *s. countenance, Mr Kildare drew still nearer to tho fugitive convict, and said : ' You may know. Tim, that 1 am an associate guardian of my young kinswoman, the Lady Nora Kildare. 1 ' Yes, I know. ' 'Another claimant has lately ari&en to L'oint Kildare, and this new claimant i^ now the earl, and m full possession — ' ' T know that to,' inteirupted Fogarty, hastily rind unguardedly. * You do . Ah ! you saw it in the papers? It's the great sensation of the day with the Lady Kathleen Connor's singular and sudden marriage. They form the chief subject of conversation at" every club, party, assembly or ale-house. Every journal contains some allusion to these two sensations. High and low alike discuss them. The new Earl of Kildare will be the lion of the season, if he will only show himself. He is a handsome fellow, and worthy of his exalted position.' 'Is he at Kildare Ca&tle now 'r" abked JTosrarfcy. ' No, he is in Dublin on business. J see him often. In fact, I wanted him to stay at my house, as [am his kinsman and am to be his lawyer, but he preferred an hotel. But to return to the point. My ward, the Lady Nora Kildare, is now my especial charge, Sir Russel Kyau giving up his post with the loss of her property. Jt has been my wish that Nora should marry her cousin, but she refuse.". .She is an obstinate, self-willed creature, and has made me much trouble.' ' It is the way of gals !' observed Foararfcy sententiou&ly. '.She was so rebellious, in fact,' .said the lawyer, keeping a keen watch on his companion through his sleepy -looking eyes-, • that I was obliged to deal harshly with her Jn short, Fogarty, 1 brought her to this house tour nights ago. And she is upstairs afc this moment a helpless prisoner !' Fogarty nearly leaped from his chair. i 'In this house !' he ejaculated. I ' Yes, in the dark room at the head of the stairs. She is poor, without money and without friends. 1 have given out in Dublin that she is gone down to Ballyconnor. And — there is one thing more, Kogaity. The girl is in my way !' 'In your way : repeated Fogarty, stupidly. ' Yes. Don't repeat eveiy word I say, like a parrot. Such words aie not pleasant enough to bear repetition, nor innocent enough to be often uttered. Remember the old saying, that ' walls have ears."' ' But if she in in your wny, what '.vili you do V The lavvyei replied in a hissing whisper : ' Remove her !' The eyes of the two men met iully. Then Fogarty fell bo trembling. Through the mild, innocent mask of Kildare's looks he hatd gazed down into his very soul, and seen there a hideous and awful purpose, coiling like a deadly cobra about to spring. ' Oh, I can't !' he tremulously. * I ant 90 bad as that. .She ant harmed you. And she's only a young girl, an innoceot crcetur ! Oh, I cant. The lawyer half withdrew his hand from his inner coat pocket, and the gleam of an ivory-mounted pistol caught the escaped convict's eye. 'ftefuse to obey my commands,' said Kildare, ' and I will deliver you up to the police with my own hands. Or I will set them on your track, if you should promise to obey me and then make your escape tomorrow ! You are in ray power, Tim Fogarty, and you will have to do my bidding !' A steel-like gleam shot from Michael Kildare's eyes, and the soft, full lips compressed themselves into an expression that struck terror to Fogarby's soul. 'Oh ! I don't know what to do !' he, muttered. ' I'm a bad man, but not so bad as this ! A poor innocent young gir' What has she done, Mr Kildare?' ' Bhe knows too much.' Fogarty looked bewildered. • It is enough for you to know that I want her removed, and that I want you to remove her,' said the lawyer, softly. 'No scruples, Fogarty, unless you prefer to return to your Australian home. Do you mind ? You will obey or go back? Which shall it be V A cold sweat broke out on Fogarty 's face. ' 1- 1 will obey,' he whispered. ' That is well. Now listen to my plan.' He proceeded to unfold it, in a low, cautious whisper, his hand on Kis pistol, his cat-like eyes full on the horror-struck ones of his confederate. . v You understand ?' he said ab,lasb, when he had concluded., , t , 'Yes,' said Fogarty, hoarsely. ■ ,

{ The rest ib caay. You will remain at this cottage, sately hidden, until to-morrow nighfc. To-morrow morning I will send you in' a box a suit; of decent clothes, a wig, and a beard. Yon will disguise yourself in thorn.' •But the boat! flow am I- to gob the boat V ' As soon as the disguise comes, put it on. Then yo to Kingstown and charter a small sloop of any description. Then velum home. And to-morrow night the job 1 have ordered must bo done-, and you must do it alone ! When it is dune I will meet you here -say four-ami -twenty hours later. Here is the money with which to charter a small vessel." He took out his pocket-book and counted out ton sovereigns. Fogarty took them up greedily. The lawyer spent a littlo fuvuhei time \n explaining his desigu.s, and then took hit departure. Fogarty went with him to the door, and gave him egress, after which the fugiti\o crept, up the &taii? to his mother's room, where the widow eagerly awaited hi* coming. ; Mr Kildare noftly descended the cottage i steps, and moved' toward the shrubbery, where his horse and wagon wore in waiting. As he did so, a woman's Jiguro emerged from the shadow of a clump of lilacs, creeping into the deeper shade ot a garden hedge. The figure was that of Alleen Mahon, the Lady Nora's maid. Wan and worn with much weeping, thin at»a shadow, as an occasional gleam ot light through the treo& upon her faced showed, Alleen mored with the stealth of a panther, her faithful, affectionate soul on me to discover her lost young mistress. Since the night of the Lady Nora's disappearance from JMr Kildare's house iv Dublin Alleen had stayed on, undeeehed by the plausible tale that hei young- lady had been sent for by the Lady Kathleen Basbantyne, and that she had lett in such haste to obey the summons that she was obliged to leave her maid behind her. Day after day the faithful girl had watched and waited for burnt) message from the Lady Nora, and she had waited in vain. Then, becoming buspicioufe of the now Kail of Kildare, who called at the house daily, Alleon had written a loiter to the Lady Kathleen, inquiring it the Lady Nora wu* afc Ballycounor. To this letter the Lady Kathleen leplied in wild alarm, baying that she had not seen her young step-sister since parting trom her at the station in Dublin. The effect ot this letter upon poor, pretty laithful Alleen may be imagined. Almost wild with anxiety, she had written a letter to Lord O'Neil, and, being new to Dublin, had induced a fellow-aer van b to post it. This servant, the housemaid, had betrayed her to Mrs Liffey, placing the letter in the housekeeper's hands. Of course, the letter thus intercepted was road by the housekeeper and by the lawyer. Aileen was called up to the drawiog-ioom, and while not permitting her to know that her letter had not been posted, Mi- Kildaie threatened her with all the terrors of the law if she declaied any suspicions that his story concerning his young kinswoman s whereabouts was false. He then assnied her anew that her young mistress was at Ballyconnor, and paying her wages, dismissed her, ordering her to return to Point Kildare and to her father, who was still steward there, by the lirst train. Alleen left the lawyer's house within the hour, but only to hide herself at a quiet inn in a humble quarter of the city. And then she began a system of espionage upon Mi Kildare, and upon the new earl. While she was thus engaged, she remembered to have heard the housemaid who had betrayed her say once, casually, that Mr» Lifl'ey was no better than othei people, having a sister as poor as any peasant, living out at Clondalkin, and having charge of Mis Liffey's sole property, Yew Cottage. By some inspiration the girl hud decided that day to pay Yew Cottage a visit, hid come out in a cab that evening some hours in advance ot the lawyei, and as he at last made his egress from the cottage she i ecognised him. Her joy at the recognition may be imagined. The sight of him at that place, at that hour, after her suspicions of him, she regarded as proof positive that the Lady Nora was within the dwelling. How her heart beat ! How her face glowed there in the darkness of the hedge to which she had retreated ! 'My suspicions weie right, aftei all !' she murmured. 'That day 1 overheard some words between Mr Kildare and Mrs Liiley about my Lady Nora was a lucky day ior me ! Yet all they said was something about 'breaking her spirits.' She refused to marry the new earl, I know. Mr Kildaie must have brought her here to Mrs LitFoy"s houso to stay till she gives in. My poor Lady Nora ! My poor Nora !' She waited untilMr Kildare had departed, and until the sounds made by his waggon wheels had died out of the still night air. Then she arose and commenced to \\ ander aiound the house, looking up at the windows with a yearning gaze. No light beamed from those upper windows-. No lively, despaiiing tace was pressed again&t the glasF. ' Yet she's in there, J know she is !' thought the faithful girl ; 'and [ must see her. I will see her ! Hub how ?' She tried the doors and the windows in the desperation of her affectionate zeal. All were fastened. Most of the windows were shutteied. ' F can't get in,' thought the girl at last, in her despair. '1 shall have to go back to Dublin without seeing her. Perhaps it is best so, for if 1 got into the house i might be discovered. I might telegrajph to Lady Kathleen, but her husband might betray me to Mr Kildare. Strange that Lord O'Neii did not answer my letter. 11l telegraph to him as early as I can after reaching Dublin. By to-morrow night he will be here. And to-morrow night my lady shall be free,' Thus strengthening hersinking heart, the courageous girl re.Ujotantly turned from the cottage, and stole from^the grounds. Having ■paid and dismissed t|je ca,b on her arrival, nothing now remained,- tor her but to walk back to Dublin, which slie proceeded to do.