DORMER UNDER INVESTIGATION.
Kelly soon returned to the saloon, reporting his principal in the late
encounter as well as, under the circumstances, he could expect to be,
and hinting that, as far as he was concerned, he was eager to resume
friendly relations with McKenna, who, he very frankly acknowledged, “wur
quite in the right, an’ Frazer far in the wrong!” This proved enough to
warm the heart of the operative toward the second of his recent
adversary, and the two men, left to themselves, at once inaugurated a
close intimacy.
After another jig, to the lively tune of the “White Cockade”—suggested
by McKenna for a purpose, and which the fiddler, already fast asleep and
unmusically snoring, prone upon a bench, was awakened to execute—the
detective called all hands once more to the bar, and, through the use of
a little legerdemain, filling his tumbler half full of water—but his
friends meanwhile thinking it undiluted gin—he proposed:
“Here’s to ‘the power that makes English landlords tremble!’ Here’s
confusion to all the inimies of ould Ireland!”
Tom Hurley, who had been one of Kelly’s partisans, enthusiastically
thumped him on the shoulder and answered:
“Hurrah! Them’s the sentiments! Let all here drink to ’em!”
Hurley, Dormer, and Kelly, with the detective, and the remainder of the
assemblage, drained their goblets in silence. McKenna, who was on the
alert, thought he noticed a communicative wink passing between Kelly and
Dormer, but not a syllable was uttered to inform him whether he had hit
upon anything of importance in employing his well-remembered toast—first
heard at Tremont. No language having the sound of a legitimate response
to it was he enabled to distinguish. In a short time, however, Kelly
came over to him with a whispered request to repair to the little
sitting-room. He obeyed, and, as he followed to that place, he found
himself discussing in his own mind what might now be in store for
him—what would prove the result of the impending interview. He was not
fearful—but anticipated taking whatever came with as good a grace as
possible. After occupying their seats, his companion remarked:
“Didn’t I see you at Minersville, not long ago, in company with Hugh
Mahan?”
“Sure, an’ may be you did! You might as well as not, at laste, fur I war
wid him, at that place, only the last month sometime!”
Kelly scanned the face of the detective sharply for a second, and then
resumed:
“Do you chance to belong to the Emeralds? The benevolent society of that
name is what I mane!”
“No, I do not!”
“Well, I know Mahan to be a mimber, an’ he’s been makin’ himself very
free wid _lashins_ of people, hereabouts, within the past few wakes,
invitin’ them to join, an’ I didn’t know but you were wan of his sort!”
“Not at all! I niver belonged to any of the nature in this counthry! In
Ireland, once, sure an’ I had a little of what ye might call exparience
in that line!”
Before the conversation could go any farther—as McKenna thought, quite
providentially—Kelly was called out of the apartment, some person
wishing to see him, and Dormer entered and assumed his place at the
table. They both tasted the contents of a black bottle that the landlord
had brought with him, and then Dormer asked:
“How long is it since ye war made a mimber?”
“What do ye mane—mimber of phat?”
“Oh, ye nade not be backward, young man! I hev taken a likin’ to ye, and
all in this house are my _friends_—an’ yours!”
The word friend was peculiarly emphasized.
“Well,” said McKenna, “I never joined wid any body of the sort in
America; I didn’t know it would be any use to me when I left home, so I
jist quit it entirely. Had I stopped long in New York, instead of goin’
to Colorado, to dig in the silver mines, I might have acted in a
different way, kaping up me ould mimbership!”
“Yes! I see what you intend! Bedad, but New York _is_ full of the rale
stuff! Indade, I may say it is rotten wid that same! I have been on the
inside since I was old enough. But recently I have had a slight
misundersthanding, that I nade not mention now, but it’s bein’ settled,
an’ the sooner the better it’ll suit me! When it is once fixed, I mane
to be the best among ’em again! Most of those outside are mimbers. So
you see you’re safe enough!”
“Yes! but you see, Misther Dormer,” said McKenna, sipping the liquor
remaining in his glass, “it’s been such a long time since I heard
anything, or thought anything, of the order, that, as ye might say, I’m
almost as ignorant as if I niver had seen the inside of the affair, an’
I belave, until I am once more initiated, the best thing I can do is to
say as little about it as convanient! Perhaps, after a while, when you
all knows me betther, I may be found worthy of active mimbership. I’m
not the laste bit afraid but I’ll make as good a society man as iver
walked on two fate in all Pennsylvania! I’m not at all frightened—don’t
ye think that of me!”
“Who would belave that ye war, afther the divil’s own basting ye gave
Fightin’ Frazer, an’ he all the while big enough to put ye in his
breeches pocket an’ walk off wid ye, as a boy might wid a pet squirrel?
Oh, nobody hereabouts will long pretind to me that McKenna is at all
timid!”
Here Dormer—led off by expert hints, made by the operative, quite forgot
the object of his interview—which undoubtedly was to fully test the
stranger as to his former knowledge of the Sleepers—and the conversation
became general. Soon it was wholly interrupted by calls from the
bar-room, which the landlord was forced to give attention. McKenna had
fabricated all that he made pretence of having gone through with in
connection with the order in the old country—being as much in the dark,
as to the interior work of the association there as in the United
States—for the purpose of drawing something from Dormer, but he dare not
enter far into particulars, dreading an exposure of his shortcomings. He
thought it extremely fortunate that, thus far, none of his associates
had been able to fathom his assumptions or contradict his assertions.
Both of these had been purposely kept rather indefinite, that he might
safely retreat, assuming to have spoken of some other society, should an
exposure be imminent.
Presently the saloon was vacated and the doors closed. The morning of
another day was nigh at hand, and Dormer, donning his coat, went with
McKenna part of his way homeward, and would not separate from the
new-comer in Pottsville until he secured a promise that he would
frequently visit the Sheridan House and make himself quite at home
there. They parted warm friends, the detective to go to bed, and the
innkeeper to return to his hotel.
The next morning, when, after a few hours of unrefreshing sleep, the
detective arose, he felt very much the worse for his fistic and other
muscular exercises of the preceding twenty-four hours. About every bone
in his body ached fearfully, and his eyes and lips were dry and
inflamed. However, an application of cold water afforded him some
relief, and, having partaken of a late but hearty breakfast, he again
evaded Jennings and went to the Sheridan House, according to agreement.
The landlord greeted him very cordially and joined in something liquid
and inspiring; then informed his visitor that, as he was an “old trump,”
he was just the man to go with him to attend to some business of a
private character in another part of the city. They attended church,
after which their steps took another direction, landing them inside
Capt. Dougherty’s saloon, where several of the men McKenna had
previously encountered at Dormer’s were already convened.
Dougherty kept a real estate office, was a sort of a lawyer, and his son
took general charge of the drinking place. The elder Dougherty was
present on this occasion, and did not seem pleased that Dormer had
brought a stranger along, though he contented himself with scowling upon
him and saying nothing particularly hateful. Following a companionable
dram or two—one proffered all hands by the new arrival—the men repaired
to a back room, McKenna having been previously warned by Dormer to
remain behind, unless sent for. In a moment he was alone in the
bar-room, while, as he supposed, a body of the bloody Mollie Maguires
was in session under the same roof. More than an hour elapsed, and there
was not an order sent in for a drop to drink, which, considering the
character of the party, was, he thought, rather strange. Still the men
remained in council. He was only able occasionally to hear a confused
murmur of voices in the adjoining apartment, and could make out nothing
that was said. What were they deliberating about? He could not guess,
but he seemed to have a certain dread of the result, as though it might
affect his own safety. “Perhaps,” he surmised, “these fellows are even
now considering whether I am an impostor or not, and should they prove
successful in showing me up in my true character my life will pay the
forfeit of my rashness in venturing among them.”
Still he pretended to doze unconcernedly in his chair before the
cheerful fire.
But all similarly uncomfortable thoughts were dispersed and his
attention turned in another and more comfortable direction by the sudden
return of Capt. Dougherty to the bar. And he came not for liquor. He
evidently wished to speak with the stranger, as he advanced toward him,
extending his hand pleasantly, saying:
“Excuse me, friend McKenna, for keeping you so long alone! I must ask
your forgiveness for another thing! When I first saw you here, I made up
a rash opinion that you were against us, and I so charged, as I now see,
acting under a mistaken notion, as I am fully convinced you are all
right, an’ ‘old head’—an’ I desire to see an’ know more of you! Dormer
vouches for you—and his word is not to be questioned!”
“What is it all about, now? What do ye mane?”
“I mean you are all correct! You are an ‘old-timer!’ That’s what I
mean!”
“Af coorse I knew it! Why not? I hev no objections to all that! I’m also
agreeable to your better acquaintance!”
And the detective’s thoughts were lightened considerably. A load seemed
lifted from him. And, the remainder of the company soon coming in, he
was cordially congratulated by many, and quickly responded by another
urgent request to “assist in making the disappearance of some more
noggins of poteen.” That’s the way he fashioned it. All accepted with
alacrity.
In a short time Dormer and McKenna took their leave, after promising to
look in at the saloon again. As soon as outside Dormer began to inform
his friend that a committee had been engaged in investigating his own
case, the charge being that he, Dormer, was a member of an Odd Fellow’s
lodge, but so far they had been unable to fix it upon him, and he did
not believe they ever would. Dormer also explained that Dougherty had
cast doubts upon McKenna’s genuineness, otherwise he would have been
invited to take a seat with the Board. Of course he was not very
friendly with Dougherty for his “impertinence,” as he worded it, and
said he’d whip him, one of these days, if he was shoved out of the
order. As long as he remained in it, he would not dare strike him a
blow. McKenna said he forgave the Captain and wanted nothing farther
done about it.
While making for the Sheridan House, Dormer invited the operative to
enter a saloon, and there introduced him to one Deenan, alias Bushy
Deenan—called so from his plentiful crop of bristling, bushy hair and
beard—where they met a number of old acquaintances and made some new
ones. Deenan’s was another rendezvous for the Mollies in Pottsville. Not
remaining there long, the two once more started for Dormer’s house.
Arriving there, the landlord and McKenna had the bar to themselves; and
sitting in a comfortable chair, and stretching out his huge limbs before
the glowing stove, Dormer commented upon one they had just parted from.
“That man, Deenan, is a miserable hypocrite! I hev my own opinion of the
likes of him! They hev little good in them—barrin’ the big talk—an’ that
puts no whisky in the can. He’s all smooth and straight while forninst
ye, but when out of sight he’s worse nor a rattlesnake. More nor that,
he has no backbone in him! When the trying time comes you don’t find him
there! He’ll wag his jaw till all’s blue, but divil a bit of fight is
there in him! For instance: Last fall, early, when there was
considerable excitement among the miners, a fellow was to be beaten, for
some reason known to the byes who axed it to be done, in a township not
far from this, beyant the mountain, an’ the job fell on my nephew, Jim
O’Reilly, an’ Bushy Deenan. Well, I furnished all the money needful, and
O’Reilly, tho’ but a broth of a boy, was all ready, cocked and primed,
to start for the place, when what should Deenan do but crawl squarely
out, like a cur, an’ say he’d have nothing to do with it! Faith, he flew
the track enthirely! Phat sort of a fellow would ye be afther callin’
that in the ould counthry?”
“Nothin’ more nor less than a craven coward! An’ they’d expel him
forever! I’d sooner be a rat nor such a man!”
“You’re perfectly right!” said Dormer, grinning like the ogre in the
fairy tale. “I know you wouldn’t act that way! The McKennas, in my part
of the country, were always a bould set, an’ honest to the heart’s
core!”
Swallowing this dose of blarney with as good a grace as possible,
McKenna asserted:
“Thanks! I’ll try in the future to show that I’m wan of the rale ould
sthock!”
At a late hour the landlord was much overcome with drink, and when he
bolted the door, after McKenna’s departure, he shouted through the
key-hole: “Come agin, the morrow, ye thafe of the worruld, or I’ll bate
ye within an inch of your life!”
Of course McKenna returned answer to this delicately-conveyed compliment
that he’d “be sure to do that same!”
Light and elastic was the step, and buoyant and hopeful the heart of the
detective, that cloudy morning, when he sought his pillow in widow
O’Regan’s domicile. He had now been for some two months in the
stronghold of the Sleepers, or Mollie Maguires, and labored hard, day as
well as night, to reach his present position of intimacy with men
prominent in the order. Success, he thought, was about to crown his
efforts.
A few days passed, during which McKenna, who had purposely cut the
acquaintance of Jennings and been given up by that young man as
hopelessly in the snare set for him by Dormer, was continually found at
the Sheridan House, gaining fast the reputation of an incorrigibly hard
case, but a good singer and dancer, and jolly companion, nevertheless.
One day, in the presence of one Arthur L’Velle, who was a Mollie,
according to Dormer’s report, when the detective was bemoaning his bad
luck in getting work, the tavern-keeper said:
“I have regard for ye, McKenna, since ye whipped Frazer so handsomely,
fur nuthin’ plazes me more’n to see a yout’ able an’ willin’ to put up
his hands and take care of number one! Now, L’Velle”—turning to that
person—“I’ll tell you what sort of an idea has just been runnin’ through
my brain fur all the world like mice in a potato-bin. I’ve been thinkin’
I’d give McKenna, here, a loud letter to Mike Lawler, of Shenandoah, an’
it’s my private opinion that, if ‘Muff’ can’t get him a job, he may hunt
the mines over all this winter widout findin’ one!”
“An’ why do ye call him ye spake of ‘Muff’ Lawler?” asked the stranger.
L’Velle answered:
“Because of a choice breed of chickens that he raises! Dormer, your
thought is a happy one! Lawler is a leader, up there, an’ I know his
friendship will in that way be secured—an’ it’s valuable to any man!”
“Yes,” said Dormer. “Lawler is the big dog in these parts now; beside he
kapes a good tavern, and will see no old-timer, or young one either, for
that matther, sufferin’ from want while he can relieve him!”
Then L’Velle spoke up:
“If it were not that Dormer and I are, for the present time, under a
little cloud, I, for one, should insist that you be furnished with a
_staff_ to guide your steps over the mountains and through the mines!
But, by going up there and seeing Lawler, you’ll soon be as well
provided for! I know Mike’ll do all he can for you!”
“I think I understand what ye allude to! I shall be greatly obliged fur
the letther! An’ as for the other matter, when I gets to Shenandoah, I
can look to it. But what is it I see in the Boston _Pilot_ about the
Bishop bein’ opposed to us? Wouldn’t it interfere wid me proper duties
at the church?”
“Oh, bother!” answered the landlord, “that’s very aisy! Ye lave the body
a while—resign, ye see—an’ then ye are all right wid the praste. If ye
wants to go back agin, who’s the wiser? Not the clergy, sure! But you
know all about it! You are too old a head not to understand. An’ in
Luzerne, I hear, the prastes are more’n half way favorable to us—be the
same token, more will be afore many months! Oh, I can tell you, it’ll
not do ye the laste harrum in the worruld, an’ it may do ye much good!
Then, as ye are an ‘old one,’ we wants ye in the order, for it nades
some such to put sinse in the fool-heads of the many new and spooney
boys—an’ there’s plinty of them, an’ to spare!”
McKenna promised, after some palaver, to think seriously on the subject.
As the reader is aware—but as the Mollie Maguires were not aware—the
detective was only too anxious to place himself within the pale of the
order; yet, when the matter seemed so nigh accomplishment, he believed
it best that he move slowly, and it would not do to exhibit too much
anxiety. Great haste might spoil all and end in disappointment.
In about a week’s time from the date of this conversation, armed with a
complimentary letter from the landlord of the Sheridan House to Lawler,
the operative started for Shenandoah. At that place, if anywhere in the
mines, he made up his decision he would necessarily locate his
headquarters. There, if at all, he must solve the mystery surrounding
the Mollie Maguires.
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