When Bobby had sufficiently rested himself, he took the car to the inn
at Crowsnest and put it up, and then came back to The Martens, where a
bed was made up for him, and where he slept the sleep of the just for
ten hours, reappearing at half-past nine that night for some supper and
a pipe. Then he retired to rest, and put another ten hours of slumber
behind him, awakening in the morning a new man.
Nothing important came by the post, only a few circulars and a postcard
effusively thanking Miss Grimshaw for some flowers which she had sent to
a female friend. As the day wore on, and as nothing appeared in the form
of a bailiff, the hopes of the party rose steadily. Mr. Dashwood had
suggested that the horse should be taken right away to Epsom, but French
was too old a practitioner to make such a false move as that. For, if a
bailiff arrived and found the horse gone, it would be the easiest thing
in the world to track him. You cannot entrain a racehorse without the
fact being known. Even if he were ridden up to London, a telegram would
have to be sent on to get a horse-box for the journey to Epsom. There
was nothing to be done but wait and trust in luck.
The morning of the 12th broke fair and unclouded, with no threat--at all
events, in the weather--of bailiffs. French had made all his
arrangements for moving the horse on the morrow. A horse-box was to be
attached to the 10:15 train from Crowsnest; also to the London train for
Epsom that started at 1:55. In less than twenty-four hours now the horse
would be out of Crowsnest, and the day-after-the-day-after-to-morrow was
the race.
Garryowen was not even mentioned in the betting lists. White Moth was
favourite, Vodki was second favourite; after Vodki you might have read
such names as your fancy wills, but not the name of Garryowen. Only in
the lists of the big English and Continental betting agents did this
name obscurely appear. French had been getting his money steadily on the
horse at 65 and 70 to 1. He reckoned that when the flag fell he would
stand to win seventy-five thousand pounds, and the thought of this, when
it came on him now and then, put him into such a fever that he could not
sit still.
They were all sitting at luncheon to-day and merry enough for the
moment, when a knock came to the door, and Norah entered.
"Plaze, sorr," said Norah, "there's a man wants to see you."
French half rose from the table.
"A man?"
"Yes, sorr. He came round be the kitchen way and 'What are yiz doin' in
me yard?' says Mrs. Driscoll. 'Is your masther in?' says he. 'If he is,
tell him a person wants to see him.'"
French, without a word, rose and left the room.
"He's come!" said Bobby, putting down his knife and fork.
"It sounds like it," said the girl. "But it may be only a tradesman."
"Shall I go out and listen at the kitchen door?" asked Effie, half
slipping from her chair.
"No," said Miss Grimshaw, "sit still. You are too fond of listening at
doors, and only for you, you naughty child----"
She checked herself. Only for Effie and her mischievous letter they
might have been in security now, and not threatened like this.
"Only for me, what?" asked Effie.
Miss Grimshaw had no time to reply, for at that moment Mr. French
re-entered the room. His face was flushed; he shut the door; and then,
"May the divil fly away with Dick Giveen!" he said. "He's got me at
last, confound him! It's the bailiff."
"Oh, heavens!" said Bobby.
"What's he like?" asked Miss Grimshaw the practical.
"Like!" cried French. "He's like a chap you see in a nightmare--white as
tallow and no legs to him, and he's going out now to inspect the horses.
Mark you, that chap's no use to us; he's one of the Methodist-parson
type, and he's not got the heart in him to help us."
"What is his name?" asked the girl.
"Piper," replied French, pouring himself out some whisky.
"Well," she said, "wait here, both of you; one never knows what one can
do till one tries."
She left the room hurriedly, and sought the stableyard, where she found
Moriarty.
"Moriarty," she said, "the bailiff has come, and he's just going to look
at the horses. Be sure that, whatever you do, you be civil to him."
"Yes, miss," replied Moriarty.
"Tell Andy the same."
"Yes, miss."
"I'm going round to the kitchen now to bring him."
"Yes, miss."
She left the stableyard and sought the kitchen. Seated in the kitchen,
hat in hand, was an individual of uncertain age. French's description
hit him off to a "T." Pale-faced, scanty-haired, with a trace of
side-whiskers, he had about him a suggestion of aggressiveness and a
suggestion of weakness very disheartening to his new beholder, who,
however, smiled upon him as she entered.
"Mr. Piper, I believe?" said Violet, speaking in a hurried and offhand
and friendly manner. "I have come round to take you to see the horses.
But have you had any luncheon?"
"Yes, thank you," said Mr. Piper, rising to his feet.
"May I not get you a glass of wine, or something after your journey?"
"No, thank you. I never touch liquor," said Mr. Piper.
"Oh, well, then, will you follow me?"
She led the way to the stables round by the kitchen entrance. All this
was French's duty, if any one's, but the girl would not trust him; she
determined to show Mr. Piper that the horses were safe, treat him as
civilly as possible, and try to gauge his corruptibility in the process.
"You know, I suppose, that this is a hired house," said she, as she led
the way, "and that there is nothing here belonging to Mr. French but the
horses?"
"Yes," said Mr. Piper. "I asked at the station about that, although my
instructions mainly concerned the horses. House and furniture belong to
Mr. Emmanuel Ibbetson. Still," concluded he, "I must attend to it that
nothing is moved from here, neither stick nor stone, till further
orders."
"If Mr. Ibbetson wanted to take his furniture away," said Miss Grimshaw,
almost losing command of her temper, "I don't think you could stop him."
"That's not the question at isha," replied Mr. Piper. "I'm thinking of
French."
"You mean, I presume, Mr. French?"
"Precisely."
"Moriarty," said Miss Grimshaw, "show this--man the horses."
Moriarty opened the upper door of a loose-box, and The Cat thrust her
evil head out. The Cat by Isonomy II. out of Express, would have won her
owner much money, only for her temper. She had a fleering eye. The Cat's
under lip and the cock of her ears were the two points you noticed at
close quarters, till she nobbled you, and took a piece out of your arm,
or let fly, and, to use the language of Moriarty, "kicked you to
flinders."
"Look out!" yelled Moriarty. He wasn't a moment too soon, for in another
second The Cat would have had the bailiff.
Piper stepped back and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. To be snapped
at by a horse is not a pleasant experience.
"It's only her play," said Moriarty, "but don't you ever open the door
of the box be yourself, for, begad, if she once got a hoult of you, it's
into the box she'll have you, over the dure top, and after that,
begorra, it id be all over but the funeral. Here's the other horse."
He opened Garryowen's box.
Garryowen projected his lovely head and expanded his nostrils at the
stranger. Miss Grimshaw looked from the horse to the bailiff, and from
the bailiff to the horse, contrasting the two animals in her mind.
"Are these carriage horses?" asked Mr. Piper, as Miss Grimshaw retired
to the house, leaving him in charge of Moriarty.
"Carriage what?"
"Horses."
"Sure, where were you born that you never saw a racehorse?"
"If you arsk me where I was born, I was born in Peckham," said Mr.
Piper, "and if you arsk me if I have ever seen a racehorse, I am proud
to say I have not, nor a race-meeting; and if you arsk me what I'd do
with jockeys and publicans and all those who corrupt the people and take
honest men's wages out of their pocket--I say, if you arsk me what I'd
do with them, I'd answer you that I'd put them in a sack and the sack in
the Thames."
"Faith," said Moriarty, contemplating his vis-a-vis, "if I hadn't fallen
into conversation wid you I'd never have guessed there was so much
'arsk' about you; but, faith, you're right. It's the whisky and the
horses that plays the divil and all wid men. Now, I'd lay, from your
face, you'd never been dhrunk in your life."
"I've never even tasted alcohol," said Piper. "Neither alcohol nor
tobacco has ever sullied my mouth, nor shall it ever sully a child of
mine."
"Have you any children?"
"No, I have not."
"That's a pity," said Moriarty, "for with such a father they couldn't
help turnin' out fine men. May I ax, are you a Liberal or a
Conservative?"
"I'm a Socialist."
"The masther has tould me about thim," said Moriarty, closing the door
of Garryowen's box and taking his seat on a bucket. "You're wan of thim
that b'laves every man is born equal, and we should all share alike.
D'you mane to tell me that, now?"
Mr. Piper, led on to his favourite topic, expanded, taking his seat on
the edge of an old bin by the stable door.
"So," said Moriarty, "thim's your opinions? A big puddin', and every man
wid a plate and spoon. And who, may I ax, is to make the puddin', and
who's to wash the plates?"
Mr. Piper explained that every man would help to make the pudding, and
every man would wash his own plate.
"And s'pose," said Moriarty, "one chap takes a double helpin' before his
turn, or cracks his plate over another chap's head?"
Mr. Piper explained that every man would be equally ungreedy and equally
well disposed to his neighbour.
"And where are you going to get thim men?" asked the tireless Moriarty.
"And, see here, they're not going to be all men, unless you smother the
women. And, droppin' the puddin', for the sake of argument, and comin'
to the question of bunnets, d'you think one woman is going to be content
wid as good a bunnet as her next-door neighbour, and the same price?
D'you think Mrs. Moriarty won't be sayin' to her husband, 'Mick, you
blackguard, why don't you stir your stumps and make more money to buy me
a hat and feather that'll squash Mrs. Mooney's?' And Mick, he'll say,
'Sure, Norah, how'm I to make more money when these Social chaps won't
let me earn more'n five pound a week?' And what'll she say but 'Be
hanged to Socialism, I want a blazin' big hat wid a feather twice as big
as Mrs. Mooney's, and I'm goin' to get it.'"
"That's not the point at isha."
"Isha or not, you see here. You may plot and plan and collar your
masther's money and pay it out all round to the likes of yourself, but
it's the wimmen'll quare your pitch, for begob, a man may get rid of a
masther, but he'll never get rid of a misthress as long as the world
rowls, and wather runs. Tell me," said Moriarty, with his eyes examining
Mr. Piper's legs critically and not complimentarily, "tell me now, are
you wan of them chaps the masther spakes of who're always boo-hooin'
about the souldiers and ba-haain' about the sailors and wishin' to live
in pace and contintment, sittin' on your starns under fig-trees wid the
figs droppin' into your open gobs?"
Mr. Piper explained that he was a peace party man.
"I thought you was," said Moriarty, still with his eyes fixed on his
examinee's legs, "and faith, I'm almost converted meself to the cause
whin I look at you. We had a man wanst, and he might ha' been your twin
brother, and he came down to Cloyne, lecturin' on all thim things, and
settin' up to contist the seat in Parli'mint wid ould Mr. Barrin'ton, of
Inchkillin Haal. Ould Mr. Barrin'ton stud six-fut-four. He'd never
missed a meet of the houn's for sixty years, 'cept whin he was lad up
wid broken limbs or sittin' in Parli'mint. This chap called ould Mr.
Barrin'ton his 'ponent, said he was wastin' the money of the people
keepin' houn's and horses, and went on till wan day the bhoys got hold
of him--and d'ye know what they did to him?"
"No."
"Faith, they headed him up in a barr'l, and rowled him into the river."
Moriarty, without another word, got up, left Mr. Piper to his
meditations, and strode towards the kitchen.
"Where's the masther?" asked Moriarty of Norah.
"In the sittin'-room," replied Norah.
He passed through the kitchen, crossed the little hall, and knocked at
the sitting-room door.
"Come in," said French's voice, and he entered.
French, Miss Grimshaw, and Bobby Dashwood were seated about the room.
The men were smoking and in arm-chairs, Miss Grimshaw was at the table,
sitting erect, with her elbows upon it. Her lips were pursed, for they
had been discussing Mr. Piper.
"If you plaze, sorr," said Moriarty when French bade him speak, "I've
been takin' the size of that chap in the yard."
"And what do you think of him, Moriarty?"
"Faith, sorr, I'm thinkin' he was one of the leftovers whin they was
makin' parr'ts, and the divil thried to make a monkey of him, and spiled
it in the bakin'. He's no use at all, sorr, to be talked over or talked
under."
"We couldn't bribe the man, do you think?" asked Mr. French.
"No, sorr," replied Moriarty, "he's not the man to take a bribe to do a
decent turn. He's wan of those chaps that hates his betthers--soci--what
d'you call 'em, sorr?"
"Socialists?"
"That's thim."
"Oh, Lord!" said Bobby.
"I thought he looked like it," said Miss Grimshaw.
"Hang him!" said French. "I thought there was something wrong with the
beast besides white liver and Board school----"
"If you plaze, sorr," said Moriarty, with a grin, "I've had a long talk
wid him, and he's convarted me."
"Hullo!" said French, staring at his henchman, "what's this you're
saying?"
"I've come to b'lave, sorr, in sharin' and sharin' alike. If you plaze,
sorr, have you everythin' ready for gettin' the horse away in the
mornin'?"
"Getting the horse away!" burst out French, forgetting Moriarty's
conversion and everything else in an outburst of rage. "How the dickens
do you think I'm to get him away with that beast stuck here?"
"All the same, sorr," replied Moriarty, "if you'll lave things to me,
you won't find any thrubble in the mornin', and not for some days
afther, I'm thinkin."
"What do you propose to do?"
"If you plaze, sorr, I'd rather just keep me tongue shut in me head.
It's not that I aren't wishful to tell you, sorr, but it's the divil to
spake whin you're fishin'. Do you remimber, sorr, young Mr. James and
his wife, whin they came to Drumgool, and went out fishin' the black
water? Him and she wid a luncheon-basket and tame minnows presarved in
bottles of glycerin' and the hoight of fine rods and patent hucks, and
landin' nets, and groun' bate, and the Lord knows all; and you could
hear thim chatterin' to wan another half a mile away, and the wather
thick wid fish. And the divil a thing they caught in three days but a
craw-been."
"Moriarty is right," said Miss Grimshaw, who had a profound belief in
the capacity of Moriarty for doing the right thing just in the right
way, when the thing was a matter of diplomacy.
"Look here, Moriarty," said French, "are you thinking of making a
prisoner of this chap? For that won't do."
"No, sorr," said Moriarty. "I'm not."
"He doesn't drink?"
"No, sorr."
"You're not going to bribe him?"
"No, sorr."
"Well, all I can say is, if you can find some other means of putting him
out of action you're a cleverer man than I am."
"If you'll just lave it to me, sorr, you may rest contint."
French poured out a glass of whisky, which Moriarty swallowed neat.
Then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and saluting the
company assembled, he left the room.
"He'll do it," burst out Mr. Dashwood, who seemed suddenly and for the
first time to fully comprehend the possibilities and impossibilities of
Moriarty.
"Faith," said French, "I believe he will. I've never known Moriarty fail
yet. Upon my word, I haven't. Looking back now, I never remember him not
getting the better of any man he crossed the foils with. Do you remember
that blackguard who came to hamstring Garryowen? And the best of the
matter is he always does things in such a way the laugh is on his side,
and the law, begad! Do you remember that bailiff he drove to the old
castle? Well, the law couldn't have touched him for that. The man wanted
to be driven to my house, and that was my house, though I didn't live
there."
"It's a man like Moriarty that comes over to the States with a bundle
under his arm," said Miss Grimshaw, "one moment a poor exile from Erin,
standing on a shore that is lonely and chill, and the next day, to quote
one of our poets, he's 'Alderman Mike inthrodjucin a Bill.' I wonder why
the Moriartys are so much nicer in their own country."