The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II (of II)

“Some say, a returned convict, – a banker that was transported thirty years ago for forgery; others, that he is Con O’Hara, that killed Major Stackpoole in the famous duel at Bunratty Castle. Magennis swears that he remembers the face well; at all events, there is a mystery about him, and when he came into the shop below stairs – ”

“Oh, then, you have seen him yourself?”

“Yes; he came in on Monday last, and asked for some glazed gunpowder, and if we had bullets of a large mould to fit his pistols. They were curiosities in their way; they were made in America, and had a bore large as your thumb.”

“You had some conversation with him?”

“A few words about the country and the crops. He said he thought we had good prospects for the wheat, and, if we should have a fine harvest, a good winter was like to follow. Meaning that, with enough to eat, we should have fewer outrages in the dark nights, and by that I knew he was one acquainted with the country. I said as much, and then he turned fiercely on me, and remarked, ‘I never questioned you, sir, about your hides and tallow and ten-penny nails, for they were your affairs; please, then, to pay the same deference to me and mine.’ And before I could reply he was gone.”

“It was a rude speech,” said Repton, thoughtfully; “but many men are morose from circumstances whose natures are full of kindliness and gentleness.”

“It was precisely the impression this stranger made upon me. There was that in his manner which implied a hard lot in life, – no small share of the shadiest side of fortune; and even when his somewhat coarse rebuke was uttered, I was more disposed to be angry with myself for being the cause than with him who made it.”

“Where is he stopping just now?”

“At Kilkieran, I have heard; but he has been repeatedly back and forward in the town here during the week, though for the last few days I have not seen him. Perhaps he has heard of Scanlan’s intention to summons him for aiding and abetting an assault, and has kept out of the way in consequence.”

“He keep out of the way!” cried Repton; “you never mistook a man more in your life!”

“You are acquainted with him, then?” said Nelligan, in amazement.

“That am I, sir. No one knows him better, and on my knowledge of the man it was that I apologized for his incivility to yourself. If I cannot say more, Mr. Nelligan, it is not because I have any mistrust in your confidence, but that my friend’s secret is, in his own charge, and only to be revealed at his own pleasure.”

“I wish you would tell him that I never meant to play the spy upon him, – that my remark was a merely chance observation – ”

“I promise you to do so,” broke in Repton. “I promise you still more, that before he leaves this you shall have an apology from his own lips for his accidental rudeness; nay, two men that would know how to respect each other should never part under even a passing misunderstanding. It is an old theory of mine, Mr. Nelligan, that good men’s good opinions of us form the pleasantest store of our reminiscences, and I ‘d willingly go a hundred miles to remove a misconception that might bring me back to the esteem of an honorable heart, though I never were to set eyes again on him who possessed it.”

“I like your theory well, sir,” said Nelligan, cordially.

“You ‘ll find the practice will reward you,” said Repton.

“I confess this stranger has inspired me with great curiosity.”

“I can well understand the feeling,” said Repton, musing. “It is with men as with certain spots in landscape, there are chance glimpses which suggest to us the fair scenes that lie beyond our view! Poor fellow! poor fellow!” muttered he once or twice to himself; and then starting abruptly, said, “You have made me so cordially welcome here that I am going to profit by every privilege of a guest. I ‘m going to say good-night, for I have much before me on the morrow.”

CHAPTER XXXV. HOW DIPLOMACY FAILED

Repton was up at daybreak, and at his desk. Immense folios littered the table, and even the floor around him, and the old lawyer sat amidst a chaos that it was difficult to believe was only the growth of an hour or two. All the intentness of his occupation, however, did not prevent him hearing a well-known voice in the little stable-yard beneath his window, and opening the sash he called out, “Mas-singbred, is that you?”

“Ah, Mr. Repton, are you stirring so early? I had not expected to see you for at least two hours to come. May I join you?”

“By all means; at once,” was the answer. And the next moment they were together. “Where’s Barry? When did you see him last?” was Repton’s first question.

“For a moment, on Tuesday last; he came up here to learn if you had arrived, or when you might be expected. He seemed disappointed when I said not before the latter end of the week, and muttered something about being too late. He seemed flurried and excited. I heard afterwards that he had been somehow mixed up with that tumultuous assemblage that resisted the police, and I offered to go back with him to Kilkieran, but he stopped me short, saying, ‘I am not at Kilkieran;’ and so abruptly as to show that my proposal was not acceptable. He then sat down and wrote a short letter, which he desired me to give you on arriving; but to deliver it with my own hand, as, if any reply were necessary, I should be ready to carry it to him. This is the letter.”

Repton read it rapidly, and then, walking to the window, stood pondering over the contents.

“You know this man Merl, don’t you, Massingbred?” asked Repton.

“Yes, thoroughly.”

“The object of this letter is to try one last chance for an arrangement. Barry suspects that the Jew’s ambition for Irish proprietorship may have been somewhat dashed by the experience of the last few days; that he will be likely enough to weigh the advantages and disadvantages with a juster appreciation than if he had never come here, and, if such be the case, we are ready to meet with a fair and equitable offer. We’ll repay him all that he advanced in cash to young Martin, and all that he won from him at play, if he surrender his reversionary claim. We’ll ask no questions as to how this loan was made, or how that debt incurred. It shall be the briefest of all transactions, – a sum in simple addition, and a check for the total.”

“He’ll refuse, – flatly refuse it,” said Massingbred. “The very offer will restore any confidence the last few days may have shaken; he’ll judge the matter like the shares of a stock that are quoted higher in the market.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. I’m ashamed to say, Mr. Repton, that my knowledge of the Herman Merl class may be greater than yours. It is the one solitary point in the realm of information wherein I am probably your superior.”

“There are others, and of a very different order, in which I would own you the master,” said Repton. “But to our case. Suppose, – a mere supposition, if you like, – but suppose that it could be demonstrated to Mr. Merl that his claim will be not only resisted, but defeated; that the right on which he relies is valueless, – the deed not worth the stamps it bears; that this offer is made to avoid a publicity and exposure far more injurious to him than to those who now shrink from it. What think you then?”

“Simply that he’d not believe it! He’d say, and many others would say, ‘If the right lay so incontestably with these others, they ‘d not give some twenty thousand pounds to compromise what they could enforce for the mere cost of a trial.’”

“Mr. Massingbred, too, would perhaps take the same view of the transaction,” said Repton, half tartly.

“Not if Mr. Repton assured me that he backed the opposite opinion,” said Jack, politely.

“I thank you heartily for that speech,” said the old man, as he grasped the other’s hand cordially; “you deserve, and shall have my fullest confidence.”

“May I ask,” said Jack, “if this offer to buy off Merl be made in the interest of the Martins, for otherwise I really see no great object, so far as they are concerned, in the change of mastery?”

“You’ll have to take my word for that,” said Repton, “or rather, to take the part I assume in this transaction as the evidence of it; and now, as I see that you are satisfied, will you accept of the duty of this negotiation? Will you see and speak with Merl? Urge upon him all the arguments your own ingenuity will furnish, and when you come, if you should be so driven, to the coercive category, and that you want the siege artillery, then send for me. Depend upon it, it will be no brutum fulmen that I ‘ll bring up; nor will I, as Pelham said, fire with ‘government powder.’ My cannon shall be inscribed, like those of the old volunteers, independence or – ”

At any other moment Jack might have smiled at the haughty air and martial stride of the old man, as, stimulated by his words, he paced the room; but there was a sincerity and a resolution about him that offered no scope for ridicule. His very features wore a look of intrepidity that bespoke the courage that animated him.

“Now, Massingbred,” said he, laying his hand on the young man’s arm, “it is only because I am not free to tell another man’s secret that I do not at once place you fully in possession of all I myself know of this transaction; but rely on it, you shall be informed on every point, and immediately after the issue of this negotiation with Merl, whatever be the result, you shall stand on the same footing with myself.”

“You cannot suppose that I exact this confidence?” began Jack.

“I only know it is your due, sir,” said Repton. “Go now, – it is not too early; see this man, and let the meeting be of the briefest, for if I were to tell you my own mind, I’d say I’d rather he should reject our offer.”

“You are, I own, a little incomprehensible this morning,” said Massingbred, “but I am determined to yield you a blind obedience; and so I’m off.”

“I ‘ll wait breakfast for you,” said Repton, as he reseated himself to his work.

Repton requested Mr. Nelligan’s permission to have his breakfast served in his own room, and sat for a long time impatiently awaiting Massingbred’s return. He was at one time aroused by a noise below stairs, but it was not the announcement of him he looked for; and he walked anxiously to and fro in his chamber, each moment adding to the uneasiness that he felt.

“Who was it that arrived half an hour ago?” asked he of the servant.

“Mr. Joe, sir, the counsellor, has just come from Dublin, and is at breakfast with the master.”

“Ah! he ‘s come, is he? So much the better,” muttered Repton, “we may want his calm, clear head to assist us here; not that we shall have to fear a contest, – there is no enemy in the field, – and if there were, Val Repton is ready to meet him!” And the old man crossed his arms, and stood erect in all the consciousness of his undiminished vigor. “Here he comes at last, – I know his step on the stair.” And he flung open the door for Massingbred.

“I read failure in your flushed cheek, Massingbred; failure and anger both, eh?”

Massingbred tried to smile. If there was any quality on which he especially prided himself, it was the bland semblance of equanimity he could assume in circumstances of difficulty and irritation. It was his boast to be able to hide his most intense emotions at moments of passion, and there was a period in which, indeed, he wielded this acquirement. Of later times, however, he had grown more natural and impulsive; he had not yet lost the sense of pain this yielding occasioned, and it was with evident irritation that he found Repton had read his thoughts.

“You perceive, then, that I am unsuccessful?” said he, with a faint smile. “So much the better if my face betrays me; it will save a world of explanation!”