Part 9 (1/2)
”Come, come, Jack, no joking,” replied t.i.tus; ”the subject's too serious. I am to be chief mourner--and I expect you to be a mourner--and everybody else to be mourners. We must all mourn at the proper time.
There'll be a power of people at the church.”
”There _are_ a power of people here already,” returned Jack, ”if they all attend.”
”And they all _will_ attend, or what is the eating and drinking to go for? I sha'n't leave a soul in the house.”
”Excepting one,” said Jack, archly. ”Lady Rookwood won't attend, I think.”
”Ay, excepting her ladys.h.i.+p and her ladys.h.i.+p's abigail. All the rest go with me, and form part of the procession. You go too.”
”Of course. At what time do you start?”
”Twelve precisely. As the clock strikes, we set out--all in a line, and a long line we'll make. I'm waiting for that ould coffin-faced rascal, Peter Bradley, to arrange the order.”
”How long will it all occupy, think you?” asked Jack, carelessly.
”That I can't say,” returned t.i.tus; ”possibly an hour, more or less. But we shall start to the minute--that is, if we can get all together, so don't be out of the way. And hark ye, Jack, you must contrive to change your toggery. That sky-blue coat won't do. It's not the thing at all, at all.”
”Never fear that,” replied Palmer. ”But who were those in the carriages?”
”Is it the last carriage you mean? Squire Forester and his sons. They're dining with the other gentlefolk, in the great room up-stairs, to be out of the way. Oh, we'll have a grand _berrin'_. And, by St. Patrick! I must be looking after it.”
”Stay a minute,” said Jack; ”let's have a cool bottle first. They are all taking care of themselves below, and Peter Bradley has not made his appearance, so you need be in no hurry. I'll go with you presently.
Shall I ring for the claret?”
”By all means,” replied t.i.tus.
Jack accordingly arose; and a butler answering the summons, a long-necked bottle was soon placed before them.
”You heard of the affray last night, I presume?” said Jack, renewing the conversation.
”With the poachers? To be sure I did. Wasn't I called in to examine Hugh Badger's wounds the first thing this morning; and a deep cut there was, just over the eye, besides other bruises.”
”Is the wound dangerous?” inquired Palmer.
”Not exactly mortal, if you mean that,” replied the Irishman; ”dangerous, certainly.”
”Humph!” exclaimed Jack; ”they'd a pretty hardish bout of it, I understand. Anything been heard of the body?”
”What body?” inquired Small, who was half-dozing.
”The body of the drowned poacher,” replied Jack; ”they were off to search for it this morning.”
”Found it--not they!” exclaimed t.i.tus. ”Ha, ha!--I can't help laughing, for the life and _sowl_ of me; a capital trick he played 'em,--capital--ha, ha! What do you think the fellow did? Ha, ha!--after leading 'em the devil's dance, all around the park, killing a hound as savage as a wolf, and breaking Hugh Badger's head, which is as hard and thick as a butcher's block, what does the fellow do but dive into a pool, with a great rock hanging over it, and make his way to the other side, through a subterranean cavern, which n.o.body knew anything about, till they came to drag it, thinking him snugly drowned all the while--ha, ha!”
”Ha, ha, ha!” chorused Jack; ”bravo! he's a lad of the right sort--ha, ha!”
”He! who?” inquired the attorney.
”Why, the poacher, to be sure,” replied Jack; ”who else were we talking about?”