Part 13 (1/2)

he repeated, clapping one hand on the other. ”If you're a fool, I'm a bigger! By Heaven, I am! Or what would I be doing? Why, I'd be pressing you into this, by the Lord, I would, in place of holding you back! And then when the trouble came, as come it would, and you'd to quit, my lad, and no choice but to make work for the hangman or beg a crust over seas, and your sister 'd no more left than she stood up in, and small choice either, it's then she'd be glad to take Luke Asgill, as she'll barely look at now! Ay, my lad, I'd win her then, if it were but as the price of saving your neck! There's naught she'd not do for you, and I'd ask but herself.”

James McMurrough stared at him, confounded. For Asgill spoke with a bitterness as well as a vehemence that betrayed how little he cared for the man he addressed--whether he swung or lived, begged or famished.

His tone, his manner, his black look, all made it plain that the scheme he outlined was no sudden thought, but a plan long conceived, often studied, and put aside with reluctance. For the listener it was as if, the steam clearing away, he'd a glimpse of the burning pit of a volcano, on the shelving side of which he stood. He shuddered, and his countenance changed. A creature of small vanities and small vices, utterly worthless, selfish, and cruel, but as weak as water, he quailed before this glimpse of elemental pa.s.sion, before this view of a soul darker than his own. And it was with a poor affectation of defiance that he made his answer.

”And what for, if it's as easy as you say, don't you do it?” he stammered.

Asgill groaned. ”Because--but there, you wouldn't understand--you wouldn't understand! Still, if you must be knowing, there's ways of winning would be worse than losing!”

The McMurrough's confidence began to return. ”You're grown scrupulous,”

he sneered, half in jest, half in earnest.

Asgill's answer flung him down again. ”You may thank your G.o.d I am!” he replied, with a look that scorched the other.

”Well--well,” McMurrough made an effort to mutter--he was thoroughly disconcerted--”at any rate, I'm obliged to you for your warning.”

”You will be obliged to me,” Asgill replied, resuming his ordinary manner, ”if you take my warning, as to the big matter; and also as to your kinsman, John Sullivan. For, I tell you, I'm afraid of him.”

”Of him?” James cried.

”Ay, of him. Have a care, have a care, man, or he'll out-general you.

See if he doesn't poison your sister against you! See if he does not make this hearth too hot for you! As long as he's in the house there's danger. I know the sort,” Asgill continued shrewdly, ”and little by little, you'll see, he'll get possession of her--and it's weak is your position as it is, my lad.”

”Pho!”

”'Tis not 'pho'! And in a week you'll know it, and be as glad to see his back as I should be to-day!”

”What, a man who has not the spirit to go out with a gentleman!”

”A man you mean,” Asgill retorted, showing his greater shrewdness, ”who has the spirit to say that he won't go out!”

”Sure, and I've not much opinion of a man of that kind,” McMurrough exclaimed.

”I have. He'll stand, or I'm mistaken, for more than'll spoil your sport--and mine,” Asgill replied. ”I'd not have played the trick about your sister's mare, good trick as it was, if I'd known he'd be here. It seemed the height of invention when you hit upon it, and no better way of commending myself. But I mis...o...b.. it now. Suppose this Colonel brings her back?”

”But Payton's staunch.”

”Ah, I hold Payton, sure enough,” Asgill answered, ”in the hollow of my hand, James McMurrough. But there's accident, and there's what not, and if in place of my restoring the mare to your sister, John Sullivan restored her--faith, my lad, I'd be laughing on the other side of my face. And if he told what I'll be bound he knows of you, it would not suit you either!”

”It would not,” The McMurrough replied, with an ugly look which the gloaming failed to mask. ”It would not. But there's small chance of that.”

”Things happen,” Asgill answered in a sombre tone. ”Faith, my lad, the man's a danger. D'you consider,” he continued, his voice low, ”that he's owner of all--in law; and if he said the word, devil a penny there'd be for you! And no marriage for your sister but with his good will. And if Morristown stood as far east of Tralee as it stands west--glory be to G.o.d for it!--I'm thinking he'd say that word, and there'd be no penny for you, and no marriage for her, but you'd both be hat in hand to him!”

McMurrough's face showed a shade paler through the dusk.

”What would you have me do?” he muttered.

”Quit this fooling, this plan of a rising, and give him no handle.

That, any way.”