Part 75 (2/2)

He caught s.n.a.t.c.hes of their conversation.

”The rascal,” said one.

”Clane ruined the ould man, anyway,” said another.

”Ross Christian again,” thought Pete. But a greater secret swamped everything. Still he heard the people as he pa.s.sed.

”Sarve her right, though, whatever she gets--she knew what he was.”

”Laving the child, too, the unfeeling creature.”

Then the sharp voices of the women fell on the dull consciousness of Pete like forks of lightning.

”Whisht, woman! the husband himself,” said somebody.

There was a noise of feet like the plash of retiring waves, and Pete noticed that one of the groups had broken into a half circle, facing him as he strode along the street. He nodded cheerfully over both sides, threw back his bare head, and plodded on. But his teeth were set hard, and his breathing was quick and audible.

”I see what they mane,” he muttered.

Outside his own house he found a crowd. A saddle-horse, with a cloud of steam rising from her, was standing with the reins over its head, linked to the gate-post. It was Caesar's mare, Molly. Every eye was on the house, and no one saw Pete as he came up behind.

”Black Tom's saying there's not a doubt of it,” said a woman.

”Gone with the young Ballawhaine, eh?” said a man.

”Shame on her, the hussy,” said another woman.

Pete ploughed his way through with both arms, smiling and nodding furiously. ”If you, plaze, ma'am I If _you_ plaze.”

As he pushed on he heard voices behind him. ”Poor man, he doesn't know yet.”--”I'm taking pity to look at him.”

The house-door was open. On the threshold stood a young man with long hair and a long note-book. He was putting questions. ”Last seen at seven o'clock--left alone with child--husband out with procession--any other information?”

Nancy Joe, with the child on her lap, was answering querulously from the stool before the fire, and Caesar, face down, was leaning on the mantelpiece.

Pete took in the situation at a glance. Then he laid his big hand on the young man's shoulder and swung him aside as if he had been turning a swivel.

”What going doing?” he asked.

The young man faltered something. Sorry to intrude--Capt'n Quilliam's trouble.

”What trouble?” said Pete.

”Need I say--the lamented--I mean distressing--in fact, the mysterious disappearance----”

”What disappearance?” said Pete, with an air of amazement.

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