The tall figure was that of our old friend, Zekiel
Irons, the clerk. A sable form, as beseemed his
ecclesiastical calling—and now a white
figure was gliding without noise swiftly after him.
Suddenly, as he reached an open part of the road,
a thin hand was laid on his shoulder, and, with a
start, and a ‘hollo,’ he sprung round.
’Hey! why, you’re as frightened as if
you had seen Charles—Charles Nutter.
Hey?—don’t be uneasy. I heard
from the parson yesterday morning you were to be with
him to-night before nine o’clock, about that
money you left in his hands, and I’ve chanced
to meet you; and this I want you to understand, Charles
Nutter is in gaol, and we must not let him get out—do
you see? That business settled, we’re at
rest. So, Mr. Irons, you must not show the white
feather. Be bold—speak out what you
know—now’s the time to strike.
I’ll put your evidence, as you reported it to
me, into shape, and you come to me to-morrow morning
at eight o’clock; and mind you, I’ll reward
you this time, and better than ever you’ve fared
before. Go on. Or stay—I’ll
go before.’
And Mr. Dangerfield laughed one of his chilly laughs—and,
with a nod to Irons, repeated—’eight
o’clock’—and so walked on a
little bit.
The clerk had not said a word. A perspiration
broke forth on his forehead, and, wiping the drops
away, he said—
‘Lord have mercy upon us—Lord deliver
us—Lord have mercy upon us,’ like
a man dying.
Mr. Dangerfield’s bold proposition seemed quite
to overpower and unman him.
The white figure turned short, facing the clerk, and
said he—
’See you, Mr. Irons, I’m serious—there
must be no shirking. If you undertake, you must
go through; and, hark! in your ear—you shall
have five hundred pounds. I put no constraint—say
yes or no—if you don’t like you needn’t.
Justice, I think, will be done even without your help.
But till he’s quiet—you understand—nothing
sure. He has been dead and alive again—curse
him; and till he’s at rest, and on the surgeon’s
table—ha! ha!—we sha’n’t
feel quite comfortable.’
‘Lord have mercy upon us!’ muttered Irons,
with a groan.
‘Amen,’ said Dangerfield, with a sneering
imitation.
’There, ’tis enough—if
you have nerve to speak truth and do justice, you
may have the money. We’re men of business—you
and I. If not, I sha’n’t trouble you any
more. If you like it, come to me at eight o’clock
in the morning; if not, why, stay away, and no harm’s
done.’
And with these words, Mr. Dangerfield turned on his
heel once more, and started at a lively pace for Chapelizod.
IN WHICH MR. PAUL DANGERFIELD MOUNTS THE STAIRS OF
THE HOUSE BY THE CHURCH-YARD, AND MAKES SOME ARRANGEMENTS.
The white figure glided duskily over the bridge.
The river rushed beneath in Egyptian darkness.
The air was still, and a thousand celestial eyes twinkled
down brightly through the clear deep sky upon the
actors in this true story. He kept the left side,
so that the road lay between him and the Phoenix door,
which gaped wide with a great hospitable grin, and
crimsoned the night air with a glow of candle-light.
