Martin was a little disappointed regarding the value of his discovery.
He had expected to learn from Miss Fleming something about Hall. Still,
he had found an important link in the chain, and on his arrival in
London sought the inspector from whom he had secured Blount's services.
It was late at night--or rather early morning--and everything being
quiet, Inspector Prime was rather glad than otherwise to see Martin. The
latter related the finding of the locket, and the subsequent finding of
the original of the photograph in it.
The inspector listened attentively. He considered it an important piece
of evidence and said as much, but counselled waiting for news from
Blount. Hall was under surveillance, and there was no danger of his
slipping through their fingers again. Meantime he would put a "good
woman" into Hall's late residence in Harley Street--as chambermaid.
Through her everything there belonging to Hall could be examined without
exciting suspicion.
Martin did not reach his hotel until daylight, and did not arise until
late in the day. On descending to the office he was agreeably surprised
to find a letter from Blount. The contents, however, were not
encouraging. Blount was unable to find any trace of Hall, as yet, but
did not despair of doing so.
Martin immediately communicated with Blount by telegraph, telling him he
had discovered the original of the locket picture.
This being done Martin had apparently reached the end of his tether.
What to do with himself he did not know, but he would not go back to
Hanley Hall, for feeling reasonably certain of finally proving his case
against Hall, and being determined to follow it up, he did not care to
meet Kate. That she must have some regard for Hall seemed only
natural--otherwise why the engagement.
For want of something else to do, Martin sought Inspector Prime and
learned that he, too, had heard from Blount.
"I can't stand this infernal idleness," said Martin during the
conversation. "If I felt certain of catching Blount at Antwerp I
would----"
"Why not take a trip to Dublin?" interrupted the inspector. "You will
have to act carefully, however, and do just as O'Brien, the detective
there, bids you. Does this Hall know you?"
"I think not. He met me once at Hanley Hall, but under circumstances
which would probably leave no impression of my appearance on his mind."
"Well, you might go there to relieve the monotony of waiting--but be
careful!"
Within a few hours Martin was crossing the Channel, and on arriving in
Dublin found, on presenting a letter from Inspector Prime, that Hall,
and his shadow, O'Brien, were at Naas, in Kildare, where it was
understood the former was about buying considerable property, and after
spending the day in Dublin, Martin proceeded to Naas.
At the "Blessert Arms," the best of the two inns in Naas, Martin found
O'Brien, to whom he had a letter from Dublin.
There was nothing to report, O'Brien told him, except that Hall was well
supplied with money, which he spent freely; that he had made many good
friends, and was negotiating for the purchase of an estate in the
vicinity.
"Does he live here?" asked Martin.
"Yes--whenever he can get away from his friends. To-day, and for the
past two days, he's been off thirty mile from here shooting."
"But how the deuce can you keep track of him there?" exclaimed Martin,
in angry surprise. "I understood he was never out of your sight or
reach!"
"Be easy now, Mr. Martin. He's not out of either my sight or reach, for
on my recommendation he engaged my partner, Jim Farrel, as his valet.
Jim wired me just a hour ago that they will be back to-night."
O'Brien smiled just a little triumphantly as he finished, and then
pretending not to notice Martin's confusion, continued:
"You see, Mr. Martin, I formed the acquaintance of our friend almost as
soon as he arrived in Dublin, and I've cultivated that acquaintance with
great success ever since. I am here by his invitation, but my pride--I
am a gentleman in somewhat reduced circumstances, d'ye mind--my pride
will not permit of my mingling very much in the sport which he is now
enjoying, and in which he at first insisted I should join him."
The two gazed for a moment at each other as the detective finished. Then
Martin extended his hand:
"I don't suppose there's any use of saying anything," he said, smiling
ruefully at his own discomfiture.
"No more than there is necessity," responded O'Brien, heartily. "Come!
Let's take a drop of something!" and after giving the order continued:
"That reminds me of something--our friend, I am happy to say, is
beginning to drink heavily."
Martin looked inquiringly, and O'Brien exclaimed:
"It shows he's growing either careless or desperate, for he drank
nothing in Dublin, and something's bound to come of it."
Hall, together with several friends, arrived that evening. All were in
high spirits, because, perhaps, as O'Brien explained to Martin, "they
had a fair quantity inside of them."
The party proceeded at once to Hall's rooms, where wine and whiskey were
ordered freely until late in the night, when they adjourned to the bar.
Martin was standing with one elbow resting on the bar, his hand under
his chin and his feet crossed, when they entered. Hall, who was quite
drunk, either accidentally or in bravado knocked up against him and
almost threw him off his feet. Martin was not in a happy mood, and
angrily demanded what he meant; but even as he spoke, seeing Hall's
condition, turned away.
The latter was not too drunk to catch the contempt expressed by the look
and the action, and angrily insisted that Martin should listen to him,
but instead Martin walked slowly away as if about to leave the room. He
had not gone five paces before Hall was after him and struck him with
his walking-stick. The blow, if it could be called a blow, for Hall was
barely able to lift the stick, was the last straw--Martin's patience was
exhausted. Turning on Hall like an enraged lion, he lifted him bodily
and threw him half the length of the room--the flying body coming down
with a crash amidst the chairs and tables along the wall.
Hall did not move, and as his friends picked him up someone said he was
dead, and suggested detaining Martin, who, after lighting a cigar,
walked out and off through the country for five miles. When he returned
he had walked off his excitement, and enjoyed a good night's rest.
Martin paid no further attention to the matter, and laughed at O'Brien
when the latter next day spoke of further trouble; but that evening a
gentleman called upon him with a message from Mr. Hall demanding an
apology, as public as the injury, or a duel!
At first Martin laughed at the idea, but his caller was an Irishman,
very gentlemanly, very pleasant, but also very determined that his
friend should have either one or the other, with the preference largely
in favor of the duel. Mr. Martin must recognize the fact that he
(Martin) was a big, powerful fellow, while his friend was comparatively
a small man; and while it was true there had been a little trouble, the
punishment was very largely in excess of the provocation. Moreover, the
affair having been so public, he could hardly see how Mr. Hall should be
satisfied with an apology--but, then, that was not his affair.
The upshot of the conversation was that Martin allowed himself to be
badgered into saying he had a friend in the inn to whom he would refer
the matter, and Captain Carroll having accomplished his object, departed
with a satisfied smile and a pleasant "good-evening."
"I ought to have pitched the fellow out of the window! But I'll be
hanged if you could be angry with him, you would think it was a marriage
instead of a possible funeral he was arranging," said Martin, as he
explained the affair shortly after to O'Brien, adding: "Is it possible
this thing cannot be ignored? It seems ridiculous!"
"Yes, you might take the next train for Dublin," replied O'Brien,
quietly, "otherwise you may as well make up your mind to fight, for
Carroll will leave no loophole open for an amicable settlement. He
delights in fighting himself, and would die of mortification if any
affair he was engaged in should be settled without going out."
Martin swore he would not run, neither would he fight, but the man who
interfered with him would remember and regret it, if he lived long
enough; but in the end submitted to "the custom of the country," and
O'Brien called on Captain Carroll that very evening.