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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42751 ***
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+     1. Page scan source:
+        http://archive.org/details/tempestdrivenrom03dowl
+        (University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            TEMPEST-DRIVEN
+
+
+
+
+
+                            TEMPEST-DRIVEN
+
+                              A Romance.
+
+
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                           RICHARD DOWLING,
+
+       AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF KILLARD," "THE WEIRD SISTERS,"
+  "THE SPORT OF FATE," "UNDER ST. PAUL'S," "THE DUKE'S SWEETHEART,"
+           "SWEET INISFAIL," "THE HIDDEN FLAME," ETC.
+
+
+
+
+                         _IN THREE VOLUMES_.
+
+                               VOL. II.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               LONDON:
+              TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8 CATHERINE ST., STRAND.
+                                1886.
+
+                       [_All rights reserved_.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS,
+                         CRYSTAL PLACE PRESS.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              CONTENTS.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+AFTER TEN YEARS.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX.
+
+SEEING NOT BELIEVING.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XX.
+
+TOLD BY GORMAN.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE SEA.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXII.
+
+THE ROCK.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE HOME OF THE MONSTER.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+KILCASH.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXV.
+
+THE "BLUE ANCHOR."
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+ON THE CLIFF.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE MONSTER LET LOOSE.
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+A NIGHT TRAVELLER.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+DULWICH AGAIN.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXX.
+
+ANOTHER VISITOR.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+"I HAVE BEEN ALWAYS ALONE."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           TEMPEST-TOSSED.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+                           AFTER TEN YEARS.
+
+
+Jerry O'Brien's words had been no sooner uttered than he saw how
+foolishly injudicious they were. In the excitement of the moment he
+had forgotten what ought to have been uppermost in his thoughts--the
+condition of his friend.
+
+He rang the bell. In a few seconds Madge entered the room. He briefly
+explained what had occurred, and then set off to summon Dr. Santley.
+
+The doctor looked grave, and hurried back to Carlingford House. Here
+he stayed an hour, and left with gloomy looks and words. A relapse was
+possible, and a great delay to convalescence certain. There was
+danger, serious danger of the patient's life.
+
+Jerry O'Brien was in despair. He had the greatest affection for
+Alfred, and he was in love with Alfred's sister. Yes, he might as well
+confess the matter boldly to himself; plain-looking, gentle, cheerful
+Madge was worth more to him than all the rest of the girls in the
+world put together. And here his impetuous rashness had brought her
+brother to death's door. Curses on his rashness!
+
+Santley said he was by no means to see Alfred again that day, or until
+he got formal leave to do so. He would give no opinion as
+to the ultimate course of the disease; but there was cause for
+anxiety--great anxiety.
+
+Jerry took his leave of the house with a heavy heart. He was quite
+alone in the world, and since he lost his mother, now years ago, he
+had known no trouble so trying as this. He told himself over and over
+again that all would yet be well with Alfred. In vain! His heart would
+not be comforted; his mind would not abide in peace.
+
+When he got into town, he did not know where to turn. The idea of
+going to the club under the unpleasant circumstances was out of the
+question. Walking about alone was dull work. He did not care to call
+on any friend, and the notion of spending the evening at a place of
+entertainment was simply monstrous. There seemed to be nothing else
+for it but to go home, and that was a stupid programme enough.
+
+Jerry had lodgings in Cecil Street, Strand, and thither he went. He
+let himself in with a latchkey, and walked upstairs in the gathering
+gloom of a late February afternoon. His rooms were on the second
+floor. He entered the one looking out on the street, and lit the lamp
+deliberately. There were two reasons for his proceeding slowly. In the
+first place, it was not yet quite dark; in the second, deliberation
+killed time, and he had nothing to do between that hour and to-morrow
+morning, when he should call to know how Alfred was.
+
+"Killing time," he thought, "is, when one is anxious, an excellent
+though slow way of killing one's self."
+
+He pulled down the blinds, drew the curtains, and roused up the
+smouldering fire; then, with a heavy sigh, he threw himself into an
+easy-chair, and looked indolently, discontentedly around.
+
+The room at best was not very cheering or elegant. The house was old,
+the room low, the furniture heavy, by no means fresh, and far from
+new. The table on which the lamp stood had a staring crimson cover.
+This was a recent and outrageous addition to the chromatic elements of
+the place. Until that afternoon the cover had been of a dim, nameless
+green, quite inoffensive, except for motley stains.
+
+In his present state of mind, this cover felt like an insult, and he
+rose quickly, and, having lifted the lamp, flung the obnoxious cover
+into a corner, and was about to sit down again, when his eyes caught
+sight of a letter lying on the carpet at his feet.
+
+He stooped and picked it up.
+
+"A letter from O'Hanlon, and a fat letter, too! What can it be, now?
+Nothing more about those weirs and the commissioners, I hope. Well,
+even the weirs and the commissioners in moderation would be better
+than dwelling on this wretched business about poor Alfred."
+
+He broke the cover, sat down, and began to read a long and
+closely-written letter in a clerks hand. It was signed in a different
+hand "John O'Hanlon," and from a printed chaplet in the corner it
+appeared John O'Hanlon was a solicitor residing at Kilbarry.
+
+Jerry O'Brien read on resolutely. The only sign he gave of
+perturbation while mastering the eight pages he held in his hand was
+now and then crossing, uncrossing, and recrossing his legs. When he
+came to the end he threw the letter from him with an exclamation of
+annoyance and disgust. Then he sat awhile motionless, with his elbow
+resting on the table, his cheek on his hand, and his eyebrows drawn
+low down over his eyes. At last he muttered:
+
+"It is my unfortunate weirs again--or, rather, it is the weirs of
+unfortunate me. They'll end by tearing up my weirs and leaving me to
+graze on the parish. I'll make a nice pauper--splendid! I don't think
+paupers have numbers like convicts; but if they have, I shall be
+number naught, naught, naught recurring. Confound those commissioners
+eternally! Obstruct the navigation of the Bawn! My salmon weirs
+obstruct as much the navigation of the Bawn as they do of the
+Euphrates or the Mississippi! If I had my will, these infernal,
+meddling commissioners would be drowned first in the Euphrates and
+then in the Mississippi, after which I'd give them a roasting alive in
+Vesuvius for a change. This will take eight hundred a year out of my
+pocket, and hand it over to--the Atlantic, and parts adjacent! That's
+a nice way to help a struggling country!"
+
+He paused for a while, and began walking up and down the room hastily,
+angrily. Presently his thoughts took another turn.
+
+"It's fortunate I said nothing to Madge. She must know by this time
+how I feel towards her, and I don't think her people would have any
+objection if this infernal affair was not hanging over me. But I could
+not speak to her father if I had to say: 'Will you, sir, be good
+enough to bring your daughter over to Kilbarry, and see her married to
+me in the poor-house?' It would not look swell. Not a bit of it! Why,
+'twould look quite squalid and ungenteel. Never mind, Madge. I'll
+fight them, darling, to the last. I won't leave a stone unturned, and
+every one I turn I'll fling at these rapacious fools."
+
+He paused in his walk at the table.
+
+He took up the letter again and looked at the end of it.
+
+"He says I must go over at once--that I must start to-night. That's
+peremptory and but short notice. Never mind; it may be all for the
+best. I know the people at Dulwich will not think I am running away
+from them after bringing this fresh trouble upon them. They are the
+most generous people in the world. My honour is perfectly safe with
+them. I have plenty of time to catch the mail. This letter must have
+come at noon, and fallen off the table. I'll write a letter to
+Carlingford House explaining matters, and then when I have packed a
+portmanteau I shall be all right for the road." He sang in a low
+voice:
+
+
+     "With my pistols cocked, and a kind good-night,
+        Then hurrah, hurrah for the road!"
+
+
+Adding: "I wish to heavens the days were not gone for 'pistols cocked'
+and 'the road.' Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to bag
+these accursed commissioners on the road, or in the water, or on the
+wing. Unfortunately, 'old times are changed, old manners gone,' as the
+poet says, and shooting even ruffianly commissioners is against the
+law of the land, or the sea, or the air."
+
+He got writing materials, gave Mr. Paulton a short account of the
+reason for his unexpected departure from London; then he ordered his
+dinner, packed his portmanteau, ate his dinner, and caught the mail
+train for Holyhead easily.
+
+He slept half the way from Euston to Holyhead, and nearly all the way
+from Holyhead to Kingstown. In Dublin, at an hotel close to the
+Westland Row Station, he got his breakfast, and then drove to
+Kingsbridge, where he booked and took train for Kilbarry, an important
+town in the south of Ireland.
+
+A railway journey in the early part of the year from Dublin to the
+south of Ireland is far from exhilarating. Half the way may be
+performed at a fair, but the second half is done at a funereal pace.
+The country looks damp, and is ill-clad with trees. It has not yet
+donned its summer vesture of astonishing green. The towns are small,
+far apart, and generally invisible from the train. Few people are on
+the platforms, and the stations of even important towns are paltry and
+forlorn. There are occasionally lovely mountains and pastoral streams,
+but the whole effect is dulling, depressing, from the absence of trees
+and the melancholy thinness of the population. It is a country empty
+of its children, and desolate at the loss of them.
+
+Jerry O'Brien was of a mercurial nature, and when he was down he was
+at zero, and when up, at boiling. This last stage of his journey
+plunged him into the profoundest gloom. Overhead there was a sick,
+watery sun, which gave a feeble white glare more dejecting than a pall
+of thunder cloud. Tobacco was powerless to ameliorate the chill
+influence of that changing landscape. He tried to read a newspaper,
+but found he could not fix his attention on one word of what he read.
+After ascertaining there was nothing in it about Fishery
+Commissioners, he gave it up as a bad job, and laid it with
+resignation on the rug which covered his knees.
+
+When he arrived at Kilbarry he was in the lowest and most desponding
+state of mind. He was firmly persuaded that nothing could save his
+weirs, and was almost convinced that the first news he should hear was
+that his weirs had been destroyed, and that the commissioners had
+resolved to lynch him if they could lay hands on him before he died of
+hunger.
+
+He left the station in an omnibus and drove along the mile of broad
+quays beside the noble river Bawn to the "Munster Hotel." Here the
+prospect was more cheering than on the bleak, cold journey down. The
+river was thick with shipping; the quays noisy with traffic; the
+stores, warehouses, wharfs, and shops alive with people. Sailing
+vessels were discharging corn and coal, and steamers taking in cattle,
+and cases of eggs, and bales of bacon, and firkins of butter. Here the
+stream of humanity was vivid and strong. Moderate prosperity asserted
+its presence blithely. The weather had cleared and brightened, and the
+sun hung in the clear western air, a pale golden shield of light.
+
+O'Brien was well known at "The Munster," and as he went up the steps
+of the hotel, was greeted cordially by the cheerful landlord and a few
+loungers with whom he was acquainted. He did not see a trace of the
+hated Fishery Commissioners, and by the time he had eaten a light
+luncheon, he began to think they were little more than an amiable
+fiction of a jovial Government. No one he met seemed to think his
+fortunes were in peril. The manners of John, the old waiter, were
+respectful and joyous as though the traveller had just returned from
+far distant lands, after an absence of many years, to enter into
+possession of a princely patrimony.
+
+There was no time to be lost if he wanted to catch his solicitor,
+O'Hanlon, at the office. Accordingly he set off at once in that
+direction, and, having gone through two or three streets, found
+himself in the presence of his legal adviser, agent, and friend all in
+one.
+
+John O'Hanlon was a man past middle life, tall, a little stooped in
+the shoulders, black-haired, neither fat nor lean, dark, ruddy, with
+whiskers just tinged with gray, loud-voiced, and aggressive in manner,
+and owning a pair of enormous brown hands. One of the peculiarities of
+O'Hanlon was that no matter how well prepared he might be for the
+advent of any one who came to him he was always at that moment busy,
+or about to be busy, with something or somebody else.
+
+As the young man entered the private office of the solicitor the
+latter rose hastily, pointed to a chair, and said rapidly:
+
+"A minute, O'Brien--a minute. Sit down. I want to tell Gorman
+something."
+
+Gorman was the head clerk--a red-haired, restless little man, who was
+always to be found in the front office, and who never seemed to
+have anything more important to do than lean against the folded
+window-shutter and look out into the street, but who was reputed to
+be more wily than any two fully sworn-in attorneys in Kilbarry.
+
+After a short absence, O'Hanlon came back.
+
+"My dear O'Brien, I'm delighted to see you."
+
+He took both his client's hands, and shook them most cordially. He had
+the reputation of being the most insincere man you could meet on a
+summer's day; but no one had ever been able to point out any one act
+of insincerity in his conduct.
+
+"I got your letter," said O'Brien, after replying to the greetings of
+the other, "and here I am. I came post-haste."
+
+"Right, right, my boy! Those rascally commissioners will be the death
+of me. They'll be the death of every man in the neighbourhood who
+takes an interest in salmon, except the net men."
+
+"Well, what is it this time? The same old story, as well as I could
+gather from your letter."
+
+"The same old story over again. The same old three-and-fourpence--(a
+professional sum, which, I am sorry to see, has grown into a saying,
+although a colourless and unmeaning saying). The facts are these."
+
+Here the solicitor gave a long and energetic account of the vile
+proceedings of these rascally commissioners, and wound up by saying
+that they hadn't a leg to stand on, and that "we" were sure to win in
+the long run, but that to insure success it was absolutely necessary
+for O'Brien to be in town or within very easy call for a month or two,
+as petitions and declarations and so-ons had to be considered, drawn
+up, and attended to generally and particularly.
+
+When Jerry heard the whole state of affairs, he felt considerably
+relieved on the score of his salmon weirs on the lower Bawn. Upon
+telling this to his friend, the latter became hilarious, slapped Jerry
+on the back, and said that he'd prove the commissioners were the
+greatest fools in Ireland, and, moreover, make them confess it
+themselves in their own little dirty hole-and-corner court.
+
+These and other gallant words and brave assurances served to put Jerry
+in good spirits, and when he rose to leave he was as buoyant as though
+he already held the proofs of triumph in his hand.
+
+As he was about to quit the office, O'Hanlon took him by the hand, and
+mysteriously said:
+
+"You were in London while that Davenport inquest was going on?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know anything about it?"
+
+O'Brien's good spirits instantly took flight.
+
+"Too much! I know everything about it."
+
+"You read a good report of the inquest?"
+
+"No; I was at the inquest."
+
+"Ah-h!" It was a long-drawn, deep breath. The eyes of the solicitor
+became suddenly introspective, and he lolled his head over his right
+shoulder as if in deep thought. "Why did you attend that inquest?"
+
+"Well, for two reasons. First, I, as you of course know, was
+acquainted with the Davenports; and second, because the dearest friend
+I have in London was greatly interested in Mrs. Davenport. It's a long
+story."
+
+"Is it? Ah-h! I am greatly interested in that story too."
+
+"Are you? Why? I didn't think you knew the Davenports."
+
+The solicitor straightened his head on his shoulders. His eyes were
+still turned inward.
+
+"You are right so far. I did not know the Davenports. But do you
+remember a client of mine named Michael Fahey--commonly called Mike
+Fahey!"
+
+"Let me see. That's a good while ago?"
+
+"Ten or eleven years ago," said the solicitor, shaking his head in
+accord with his private thoughts rather than with his words.
+
+"I do. He was drowned near Kilcash, wasn't he?"
+
+"At the Black Rock."
+
+"An awful death. I never think of any one being drowned there without
+shuddering. Wasn't there something wrong with that man--that client of
+yours?"
+
+"Yes. The police were after him."
+
+"Why do you speak of him now?"
+
+"Don't you remember that when seen by the police who were in chase he
+was in the neighbourhood of Davenport's house, and that he ran like a
+madman until he got to the Black Rock, and then threw himself in?"
+
+"Yes; it makes my flesh creep," said O'Brien, with a shiver.
+
+"He left some documents in my possession. They are in my possession
+yet. They show he had some connection with Davenport. I had forgotten
+all about it until----"
+
+The solicitor paused, and suddenly the eyes, which had been so long
+turned inward, flashed out their light, and blazed into those of the
+young man standing opposite.
+
+O'Brien started back in vague dread.
+
+"Until when?" he asked, in a low, constrained voice.
+
+"Until this day week."
+
+"And then"--O'Hanlon's eyes dilated--"I saw----"
+
+"In the name of Heaven, what?"
+
+"His ghost."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX.
+
+                        SEEING NOT BELIEVING.
+
+
+For a moment the young man looked at the other in amazement and doubt.
+But it was impossible to resist for any great length of time the
+conviction that O'Hanlon had spoken sincerely. O'Hanlon himself looked
+troubled, scared, affrighted, as though scarcely able, and wholly
+unwilling, to believe his own words. O'Brien was the first to recover
+his composure.
+
+"I will not," he said, "question what you say; I will go so far as to
+assure you I am fully convinced you saw the ghost of that unhappy man.
+You want me to tell you a story which, as I said, is a long one, and I
+want you to tell me your story at length. Dine with me at 'The
+Munster' this evening at seven, and we can chat the matter over."
+
+The reference to the hotel and dinner drew the mind of the lawyer back
+once more into its ordinary groove. With a shrug of his shoulders and
+a forced laugh, he said:
+
+"Right--you are right, O'Brien. This is not a good time or place for
+our little private theatricals. I'll join you with pleasure at seven.
+Here I have been holding you, which is an assault, and detaining you
+against your will, which is false imprisonment--both punishable by
+law. I ought to be too old a stager to be guilty of either offence.
+But I cry mercy, and will do my best to wash away my offences in your
+claret this evening. Till then, adieu."
+
+So they parted.
+
+O'Brien resolved to stroll about until it was time for dinner. He knew
+every street, almost every house in Kilbarry. He had lived in the
+neighbourhood the most part of his life. He had no relative alive, nor
+any place he could call home. When in this neighbourhood he usually
+stopped at "The Munster"; but of late years he had spent much of his
+time in London. He owned the land close to which his salmon weirs
+stood on the Bawn; but there was no house for him on them--only a few
+rude, primitive farmers' houses.
+
+He was now thirty years of age, and had been a rover most of his life.
+He had always made it a point to spend a month or two of the summer at
+Kilcash, a sea-bathing and fishing village ten miles by road from
+Kilbarry. Here it was that he learned what he knew of the Davenports,
+for Mr. Davenport's place, Kilcash House, was only a mile inland from
+the village whose name it bore. He had been personally acquainted with
+the Davenports, and had often seen them, and knew all about them.
+
+O'Hanlon's words, now that he was from under the influence of the
+manner which accompanied them, filled him with wonder more than
+anything else. He was only nineteen or twenty at the time that man
+Fahey was drowned--or, rather, committed suicide--and he could not
+recall all the particulars of the case. When it occurred, he had been
+living with his widowed mother at Kilbarry, and had not, like other
+young men of the city, gone out to the scene of the tragedy. He knew
+every nook of the coast for miles around Kilcash. It was a bold, bad,
+rock-bound coast save at the village, where there was a bay and a
+strand fatal to ships. He remembered that, from the first news of
+Fahey's death, there had not been the least hope of recovering the
+man's body. It was a tradition of the coast that the body of no one
+who had been drowned there was ever recovered. Who or what Fahey was
+he did not know, and so he resolved to banish the subject from his
+mind until O'Hanlon reopened it that evening.
+
+The great feature of this day was O'Hanlon's assurance that his weirs
+would not be torn up. If that were true, and Alfred Paulton recovered,
+then he would have to think of building a house somewhere near the
+weirs for--Madge.
+
+He got back to the hotel a little before seven, and wrote a letter to
+Mr. Paulton, announcing his safe arrival, asking for news of Alfred,
+and sending his kindest regards to the others in the order of their
+seniority. It was a little comfort to be able to send even kind
+regards to Madge through her father. But if he had the commissioners
+by the collective throat at that moment, he could have throttled them
+with great comfort to himself, and an assured consciousness that he
+was a benefactor to mankind.
+
+Seven o'clock brought O'Hanlon and the dinner. The latter was served
+in a small, snug, private room overlooking the broad white river. When
+at length they were alone and had lighted their cigars, the guest
+reverted to the Davenport affair, and asked for the full and true
+history of the case as far as it was known to Jerry.
+
+Then O'Hanlon's turn came:
+
+"Since I saw you I have hunted up and glanced over the documents left
+in my hands by the dead man Fahey. They are, I find, unintelligible,
+as far as my lights now lead me, and I think we may dismiss them from
+our minds for the present. I shall, however, keep them safe. I will
+say nothing more of them than that in whatever portions of them Mr.
+Davenport is mentioned, they always speak of him in terms of gratitude
+and respect. It is plain that at one time the relations between these
+two men were very close, but of the nature of these relations there is
+no hint. At the time of the death of Fahey he had been hovering about
+Kilcash for months. No one exactly knew who or what he was. He had
+taken a mean lodging in the village, and given out that he was poor,
+and had been ordered to the seaside for his health, and recommended to
+get as much sea air and boating as possible. He often went out with
+the fishermen, and at last bought a small punt, a mere cockleshell,
+and kept it for his own exclusive use. In this he put off at all times
+of the day and night, and the fishermen predicted that he would be
+drowned some time or other; and so he was, but not in the way
+anticipated by the people of the village. They made sure his boat
+would be swamped one day, and that would be the end of him. An
+additional reason for their fears was that he never swam, and said he
+was too old to learn.
+
+"On the day of his death he was followed from a distance by two
+policemen in plain clothes. They watched him leave the cottage in
+which he lived at Kilcash, take to the downs, and make straight for
+Kilcash House. They were not able to get near him until he had just
+gained the house. He then became aware that he was followed, and ran
+straight for the cliffs. The rest I have already told you. There never
+was an inquest, for, as you may know, the bodies of people drowned
+there are never found.
+
+"A week ago I was in the neighbourhood of Kilcash House. I had left my
+horse and car at Kilcash, and was walking over the downs to the
+village, when on the cliffs, just over the Black Rock, I cast my eyes
+down, and there, on that large shelf of rock, as plain as I see you
+now, I saw him. The same coat, the same Scotch bonnet, the same
+trousers--not a thing altered since the first day he stood in my
+office, going on eleven years ago."
+
+"What time of the day was it?"
+
+"Broad day. About three o'clock in the afternoon."
+
+"It must have been some one of about his stature dressed identically."
+
+"Must it?" cried the lawyer, scornfully. "You have not heard all yet.
+I made up my mind to be sure. I ran--I _ran_ to the top of the path,
+and went down to the rocks below. There was nobody there. You know the
+place. Tell me how a living man could get away alive, except up the
+path that I went down? It was Michael Fahey's ghost, as sure as I am a
+living man."
+
+"I confess," said Jerry, in perplexity, "I cannot explain away what
+you say, except upon the supposition that you were suffering from
+delusion. How do you account for the appearance yourself?"
+
+"This is my way of reasoning it out. I either saw the ghost of Michael
+Fahey or I did not. If I did, I account for it by the fact that
+Davenport and he were associated together in something while they were
+alive, and now that both are dead, one of them has to come back and
+see that something left undone--a wrong unrighted, a debt unpaid, an
+explanation unmade--is put straight."
+
+"But why should the one be Fahey? And why should it be at the Black
+Rock? And why should he appear to you?"
+
+"The first, because I had nothing to do with Mr. Davenport; the
+second, because seeing Fahey's ghost there would recall to my mind
+most vividly the circumstance of his death; and the third, because I
+hold the documents to which I have referred."
+
+"But don't you think the fact of Davenport's name having been brought
+before the public so lately, and that you recollected the documents
+you held belonging to Fahey, and that you looked over the cliff at the
+very spot where he lost his life, may all have helped to impose upon
+your imagination?"
+
+"Sir, an attorney of my years does not know the meaning of the word
+imagination. You may say I am mad if you like, but don't attribute
+imagination to me, or I shall break down altogether. O'Brien, do you
+mean to say seriously that you take me for a crazy young poet? Great
+heavens, sir, it can't have come to that with me in my declining
+years!"
+
+"But, then, what did you see?"
+
+"A ghost--Fahey's ghost."
+
+"You don't mean to tell me seriously you believe in ghosts!"
+
+"I mean to tell you most emphatically I do not."
+
+"Then what is your contention?"
+
+"That I, being one who does not believe in ghosts, saw the ghost of
+Michael Fahey this day week at the Black Rock."
+
+"I can make nothing of your position."
+
+"I can make nothing of my position either. I am beginning to think I
+shall lose my reason. You are the first person I spoke to on the
+subject. Don't say anything about it to a soul. I have no wife to blab
+to, and I look on you as a friend. I had hoped you would have brought
+me news from London--some facts not published in the papers, and
+bearing on this branch of the case. But you haven't. If you let this
+get abroad, some of my _kind_ friends will get me locked up. I got old
+Coolahan locked up because he kept on saying that farthings were as
+valuable as sovereigns because they had the Queen's head on them."
+
+O'Brien was sorely puzzled. It did not now look like a matter which
+ought to be laughed at. Either O'Hanlon had seen the ghost of this
+man, or he was losing his reason. There was one other possibility. He
+said: "I am not going to make light of what you have told me, or
+communicate it to a soul. There is one other question--a wild one, I
+own. I wonder have you thought of it?"
+
+"What is it? If you have thought of anything which has escaped me, you
+are a very Daniel come to judgment."
+
+"Could it be that man was not really drowned ten or eleven years ago?
+Either the police may have been mistaken in their man, and the wrong
+man may have leaped into the hole, or Fahey may have leaped in and by
+some miracle escaped."
+
+"Yes, I have thought of both possibilities. The only answer will
+dispose of both. The clothes seen ten or eleven, years ago, and those
+seen this day week, were identical."
+
+"What! You identify them?"
+
+"Yes, if"--with a shudder--"those of last week could be produced and
+handled. O'Brien, I'm not afraid of ghosts, but I begin to be afraid
+of myself, now that I have begun to see them."
+
+"But after such a lapse of time, and at a long distance, as from the
+top of the cliff to the plain of rock below. It must be a hundred
+feet."
+
+"It is a hundred and twenty feet from the brow of the cliff to where
+the cliff meets the sloping rock, and the figure was about one hundred
+and seventy or eighty feet from the base. I measured both roughly.
+That gives between seventy and eighty yards from my eye. Now, ten
+years ago, and this day week, the colour, cut, and material of the
+coat and trousers were identical, and both times there was a circular
+green patch on the right elbow of the coat, about the size of my palm;
+and both times the right leg of the trousers had evidently been torn
+up as high as the knee-joint behind, and rudely stitched by an
+unskilful hand. I'm not," he said, looking timidly around, "afraid of
+ghosts, but I am of men. Keep my secret, O'Brien, if you care for me."
+
+"You may swear by me. By-the-way, I have more time than you. Let me
+see those documents you have, and I'll try if I can puzzle anything
+out of them."
+
+"With the greatest pleasure and thankfulness."
+
+And so the two parted.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XX.
+
+                           TOLD BY GORMAN.
+
+
+The documents Jerry O'Brien found in his hand were four in number. He
+read them all hastily first, and then went over them carefully word by
+word. When he examined them next day, they proved in substance or text
+to be as follows:
+
+No. 1. A will dated about eleven years back, by which he left all
+property of any kind of which he might die possessed to Mrs.
+Davenport, wife of his good friend Louis Davenport. He explained that
+he would have left his property to Mr. Davenport himself, but that so
+well did he know the depth of affection between Mr. Davenport and his
+wife, that the surest way to make a bequest acceptable to the former,
+was to leave it to the latter. The bequest was accompanied by no
+conditions, and the will wound up with a hope that Mr. and Mrs.
+Davenport might live long and happy lives.
+
+To the will was affixed a piece of paper, on which appeared in the
+handwriting of O'Hanlon, the solicitor, this comment:
+
+
+Note.--There being no trace of property or relatives of deceased,
+nothing could be done. I sent my clerk to Mr. Davenport to make some
+inquiries, but could learn nothing except that deceased was an
+eccentric friend of Mr. Davenport, and that as far as he (Davenport)
+knew, deceased had neither relatives nor property.
+
+This was signed "John O'Hanlon."
+
+
+No. II. This was half a sheet of note-paper partly covered by writing
+not nearly so regular or well-formed as the will. To judge by the
+handwriting of No. III., it was the manuscript of Michael Fahey. It
+ran thus:
+
+
+Memorandum.--Rise 15·6 lowest. At lowest minute of lowest forward with
+all might undaunted. The foregoing refers to _skulls_. With only one
+_skull_ any lowest or any last quarter; but great forward pluck
+required for this. In both cases (of course!) left.
+
+
+No. III. was a letter of instructions from Fahey to O'Hanlon in the
+handwriting of Fahey. It was as follows:
+
+
+"Dear Sir,
+
+"I leave with you my will and three other papers. In case of anything
+happening to me, please read the will and put it in force. But if
+between this and then you hear nothing more from me, it will not be
+worth while taking any trouble in the matter. The 'Memorandum' is to
+be kept by you for me. In case I should absent myself from the
+neighbourhood for any length of time do not be uneasy, as I am much
+abroad. If I am away fifteen years, you may hand all these to my
+friend, Mr. Davenport, but not till fifteen years have passed without
+my return to the neighbourhood.
+
+                             "Yours truly,
+
+                                   "Michael Fahey."
+
+
+No. IV. was merely a long, narrow, slip of paper, bearing the
+following:
+
+
+"Dear Mr. Davenport,
+
+"Time has swallowed me, and everything connected with me. I hope when
+you receive this you will have forgotten I ever existed. I leave all
+the documents I own with Mr. O'Hanlon for you.
+
+         "Always most faithfully yours,
+
+                         "Michael Fahey."
+
+
+These did not throw a great flood of light on the subject. In fact,
+they did not help him to see an inch further than he had seen before.
+It was plain on the face of it that there must have been some kind of
+connection between this Fahey and the Davenports; but what the nature
+of that connection was there was no clue to. He had no particular
+interest in the mystery, if it could be said to reach the dignity of a
+mystery. He was a kind of indifferent centre in the events. He had
+known the Davenports and O'Hanlon for years, and now by a strange
+coincidence, or rather a series of coincidences, the Davenports,
+O'Hanlon, the Paultons, Fahey, and himself had all been drawn
+together.
+
+He shook himself and tried to argue himself into indifference, but
+failed. He told himself the whole matter was nothing in the world to
+him, and that, in fact, there was nothing particular in it to engage
+attention.
+
+What were the facts?
+
+Mr. Davenport had, under acute mental excitement, committed suicide
+after an interview with Tom Blake. He had left two documents
+respecting that act. Both of these documents were written in pencil,
+and on leaves of his pocket-book. One of these memoranda said he,
+Davenport, had committed suicide. The other accused Blake of
+poisoning, murdering him. Every one except Edward Davenport credited
+the former statement. Blake had formerly been Mrs. Davenport's lover,
+and might love her even still. Blake had got a thousand pounds years
+ago from the deceased for giving up his pretensions to that lady's
+hand. Blake had long been abroad; turned up unexpectedly at
+Davenport's house in London the first night the latter was in London,
+and the night of his death. Blake gets a hundred pounds from
+Davenport, and a promise of a further hundred in a few days.
+
+What was this money given for? Not, of course, with the old object. It
+did not come out at the inquest or elsewhere that the dead man had
+been in the least jealous of his wife. She had not seen Blake for a
+good while before her husband's death. Blake had been some years on
+the Continent, without visiting the United Kingdom. It was
+discreditable, but intelligible, that when the dead man was an elderly
+and unfavoured lover he should buy off his rival; but it would be
+absurd to suppose that ten or eleven years after marriage any man
+would continue to pay considerable sums of money to a former rival for
+absolutely nothing. Such an act would be that of a coward and a fool,
+and the dead man had been neither.
+
+For what, then, had Davenport given this money to Blake? The latter
+said the interview between the two had been of a pleasant character.
+Why? Blake was disreputable, and Davenport eminently respectable. It
+was absurd to suppose Davenport could have had a liking for Blake.
+Taking that thousand pounds years ago must have destroyed any good
+opinion Davenport had of Blake. Why, then, had the latter been
+received well and been given money? He had not only been received well
+and given money, but invited to dinner on a later date! It was simply
+incredible that out of gratitude for that service rendered long ago in
+Florence, Davenport was going to forget that this man had been his
+rival, and invite him to his house and a necessary meeting with his
+beautiful wife.
+
+O'Brien did not for a moment suspect the widow and her former admirer
+of perjury, of concocting their stories. These stories were not at all
+calculated to exculpate either of the two. In fact, these stories,
+uncorroborated by the evidence obtained at the _post-mortem_
+examination, would have heightened suspicion rather than allayed it.
+At first these stories seemed prodigal in daring, but this very excess
+of apparent improbability made them seem most probable when read by
+the light of Davenport's written confession. No, there was no reason
+to suspect perjury.
+
+He could make nothing of it so far. But did those documents of Fahey's
+aid one towards a solution? He could not see how they bore on the case
+one way or the other, and yet the coincidences were remarkable. He had
+seen Blake in London the day of the night on which Davenport died.
+When Alfred Paulton told him what had happened at Crescent House, he
+came to the conclusion Blake was in some way or other mixed up in the
+matter. This conclusion turned out right, although not exactly in the
+way he had expected. Now upon his coming back to Kilbarry he is met by
+a still more remarkable story. A man whom O'Hanlon knew ten or eleven
+years ago, and was then drowned at the hideous Black Rock, appears to
+O'Hanlon in the same spot and same clothes as he had been last seen
+alive in. It seemed as if he, O'Brien, were destined to be connected
+with the Davenport affair whether he would or not. Alfred Paulton was
+the greatest friend he had in London, and John O'Hanlon was the best
+friend he had in Kilbarry. He knew Blake by appearance and report, and
+he was acquainted with the Davenports; and here were all mixed up in
+the same matter in more or less degree, and all in a disagreeable way.
+It was the smallest of small worlds. He had no particular reason for
+being interested in the complication; and, indeed, except for the
+extraordinary statement made by O'Hanlon, the incident might be said
+to be closed, were it not that he was not quite sure whether Alfred
+Paulton--whom he hoped one day to have for a brother-in-law--had got
+over the fascination exercised on him by that beautiful woman. Any
+way, he had nothing particular to do now but fight those rascally
+commissioners; so he'd just glance over these documents again, and see
+if he could make anything out of them.
+
+With a sigh, he put them away a second time. He might as well look for
+help to the stars. He would call at O'Hanlon's to-day and ask was
+there any news.
+
+He found Mr. Gorman, head clerk to O'Hanlon, leaning against his
+favourite shutter with his hands in his trousers' pockets, placidly
+regarding through the window a tattered, battered, and wholly
+miserable-looking man of between sixty and seventy, who was playing
+"The Young May Moon," atrociously out of tune and out of time, on a
+penny tin whistle.
+
+"Well," said O'Brien, briskly to Gorman, "any news?"
+
+"Not a blessed word," answered the clerk, resting his back against the
+shutter instead of his shoulder, and so facing the visitor. "I suppose
+you came over about your weirs? Deuced bother, Mr. O'Brien!"
+
+"It is an infernal nuisance. Do you know, Mr. Gorman, I think half the
+people who ought to be hanged are never even brought to trial."
+
+"These Fishery Commissioners don't murder any one but fisheries and
+the proprietors of fisheries, and there is no precedent for hanging a
+man merely because he killed a fishery or the proprietor of a fishery.
+However, Mr. O'Brien, you need not be afraid. Your weirs are as safe
+as the Rock of Cashel. I often wonder why they call a rock a rock.
+It's about the last thing that would think of rocking, and the sea,
+which is the best rocker out, can't stir a rock that's in good wind
+and form. It would take the Atlantic a month of Sundays to rock the
+Black Rock, for instance, at Kilcash."
+
+The mention of the Black Rock made O'Brien start slightly, for it was
+in the rock that famous and treacherous Hole yawned and breathed
+dismay and destruction. It was odd Gorman should mention the rock
+which had occupied such a prominent place in his thoughts that
+forenoon.
+
+"It's strange," said O'Brien, walking over to the window, and placing
+himself against the shutter opposite Gorman, "that I should have been
+thinking of the Black Rock a little while ago! What put it into your
+head now?"
+
+"Well, I tell you, nothing could be simpler or more natural. I knew
+you arrived from London yesterday. I knew you were acquainted with the
+Davenports of Kilcash, and a man who once had some connection with the
+Davenports was last seen on the Black Rock, and drowned himself, to
+escape the police, in the Hole. You may remember the circumstance?"
+
+"Yes," said O'Brien, instantly interested; "I have a faint
+recollection of that man's death. Were you with Mr. O'Hanlon then?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I remember all about it. He was a client of ours. We didn't
+do much for him; in fact, we didn't do anything for him. He left some
+papers with the governor, and then got into trouble about passing
+flash notes. The police had their hands just on him, when he leapt
+into the Hole. You know what that means. The body was never found; but
+that does not count as anything, for the bodies of persons drowned
+near that spot are never found."
+
+"And nothing was known of the connection between this unfortunate
+Fahey and the Davenports?"
+
+"I don't know anything about it, and I don't think the governor does.
+It was supposed he was an old hanger-on of old Davenport's, since the
+time Davenport was abroad. Davenport himself, as far as I could find
+out, never volunteered information about Fahey; and, you know, he
+wasn't the kind of man you'd care to ask unnecessary questions. He was
+about the closest man in the county. I never had any business to do
+with him, but I've kept my ears open."
+
+"He died very rich, I suppose?"--with a laugh. "A friend of mine is
+already greatly interested in the widow."
+
+"Ah, no wonder! She's a fine woman--the finest woman in these parts. I
+often saw her. You might do worse than try your luck there yourself,
+Mr. O'Brien. If he left her the bulk of his fortune she will be very
+well off. He had no one else in the world but his brother, who is
+crack-brained, I believe; and the dead man was very rich--made a whole
+fortune abroad, in various kinds of speculations, both in Europe and
+America."
+
+"What did he speculate in chiefly?"
+
+"I don't know. All kinds of stocks and shares. They say he had some
+plan never before adopted, and out of which he made money as fast as
+he liked, and this plan he never would tell any one. At all events,
+for more than ten years before he settled down here he had been
+wandering pretty well over the whole civilized world. Every one who
+knew of his great business cleverness wondered why he retired before
+fifty, but he said he had enough for a lifetime, and that his asthma
+was too bad for him to go on any longer. But somehow it leaked out
+that he got a great fright about some bank on the Continent in which
+he had a large sum of money--I think ten thousand pounds--lodged to
+his credit."
+
+"Do you remember the story, Gorman?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Well, tell it to me. But, for heaven's sake, first send out the boy
+and order that man with the tin whistle to go away. Here's sixpence
+for him."
+
+"Not fond of music! I thought you were." He took the coin, and
+despatched the boy. "The Bank of England had its own reasons for
+keeping the thing quiet at the time, and it never came fully before
+the public, as the criminal was never discovered. Mr. Davenport gave
+notice to the foreign bank that on a certain day he would require the
+ten thousand he had lodged there, and that the more Bank of England
+notes he found in the packet, the better he should be pleased.
+
+"On the day he had named he called and got the money, and that very
+evening started for London with the cash. This was an unusual mode of
+proceeding, but most of his ways were unusual, if not odd. On his
+arrival the Bank declared several of the one hundred pound notes in
+his packet to be forgeries, and a few tens were also spurious.
+
+"This discovery started an inquiry, and in a little while it was found
+that one of the largest and most skilful forgeries ever made on the
+Bank of England had just been committed, and that upwards of two
+hundred thousand pounds worth of valueless notes had been palmed off
+on foreign banks of the highest class.
+
+"The forgeries did not stop at the notes. The signatures of some of
+the greatest banking firms had been imitated and used as introductions
+to the Continental houses of eminence, and an elaborate scheme of
+fraud had been based on these bogus introductions. The scheme had been
+in preparation for a long time. At first a small private account was
+opened in the regular way in London, the referees--two customers of
+the bank--being a retired military man and a shopkeeper, I think. I
+forget what name the account was opened in--false one, of course,
+say Jenkins.
+
+"Jenkins's account was gradually augmented, and a balance of a couple
+or three thousand was always kept. Moneys were now and then paid in
+and drawn out. The account was highly respectable. In the end Jenkins
+said he was going to live in Paris, and would feel obliged if his
+banker would give him an introduction to a Paris house. This was done
+as a matter of course.
+
+"In Paris the balance was still further increased, until it was kept
+above five thousand pounds. Then Jenkins asked if he might deposit a
+box containing valuable documents for safety in the bank. He got
+permission and lodged the box.
+
+"Then he drew out all his balance very gradually, and when it was
+exhausted, called, asked for his box, opened it in the presence of the
+manager, and taking from it fifty Bank of England one hundred pound
+notes, asked that they might be placed to his credit, as he was
+expecting heavy calls momently. He had been speculating and had lost,
+he said. In a couple of weeks he drew out the five thousand in one
+cheque payable to himself.
+
+"Shortly after this he took from the box, and handed the manager ten
+thousand pounds, saying he was still losing heavily, and should want
+the money that day, subject, of course, to a fair charge on the part
+of the bank. The bank accommodated him. He said there was a great deal
+more than ten ten thousands in the box, and showed the notes to the
+manager. Next day he came in a great state of excitement. He had a
+vast fortune within his grasp if he could only get money that day. He
+took from his pocket one hundred thousand pounds in Bank of England
+notes, and from his box all that was in it--one hundred and ten
+thousand more. Would they oblige him? It was neck or nothing with him.
+If he hadn't the money within three hours, he would be a ruined man;
+if he got the money, he could make a stupendous fortune. He would
+leave the odd ten thousand in the hands of the bank against expenses,
+interest, etc. Would they let him have two hundred thousand in French
+notes on the security of the Bank of England notes?
+
+"After an hour's consideration the bank gave him the money, and never
+saw Mr. Jenkins afterwards. The two hundred and ten thousand pounds
+were forged notes. He had of course a capital of ten thousand pounds
+in good notes, but these he carried off. What he did at the box was
+mostly sleight-of-hand, for he was supposed to have brought the good
+notes in his pocket, and by a little elementary legerdemain appeared
+to take them out of the box which contained the forged notes.
+
+"Mr. Davenport was in Paris at the time, and by the merest chance drew
+out all his money next day, when he got some of the forged notes, and
+on bringing them to London the crime was discovered.
+
+"At first people were much concerned for Mr. Davenport, but they
+afterwards heard he would get all his money from the French bank. It
+appears Mr. Davenport gave two forged ten-pound notes--all the notes
+were tens and hundreds--to the unfortunate Fahey; and although he
+passed them in Dublin, he got as far as Kilcash before the police came
+up with him. The silliest part of it all was that he should be such a
+fool as to drown himself; for after he threw himself into the Hole,
+Mr. Davenport recollected he had given him the notes, and said Fahey's
+had come out of what the French bank had handed him.
+
+"The whole affair gave Mr. Davenport an ugly turn, and they say he
+retired from business earlier than he had intended, even bad as his
+asthma undoubtedly was. That's all I know of the story," said Gorman,
+as he turned once more with his shoulder to the shutter, and gazed out
+into the dull, damp street.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXI.
+
+                               THE SEA.
+
+
+After a few more words of no interest with Gorman, Jerry O'Brien went
+into the private office of O'Hanlon, and found that gentleman
+encircled by hedges of legal documents, fast asleep, with a newspaper
+before him. The opening of the door roused the solicitor, who
+straightway sprang to his feet, exclaiming:
+
+"My dear O'Brien, delighted to see you! Sit down. I'll be back in a
+moment."
+
+He left the room, hastened into the outer office, asked Gorman what
+o'clock it was, and if the mail had been delivered yet, and then
+hurried back to his client, saying:
+
+"Excuse my running away; there was something I had to say to my clerk.
+Now, how are you? What kind of a night had you?"
+
+"I'm quite well, and had an excellent night. And you?"
+
+"Oh, bad, bad! Nothing could be much worse. I didn't get an hour's
+sleep. I was dozing as you came in. Don't say anything about it.
+Remember your promise! But I am sure I am breaking down. I am certain
+I shall break down mentally soon."
+
+"Nonsense!" cried O'Brien, cheerfully. "I am not going to listen to
+that rubbish in the noonday."
+
+"And a beautiful noonday it is," said O'Hanlon, looking out into the
+meagrely illumined back-yard, with its grass-green water-butt resting
+unevenly on its grass-green stand; its flower-pots three-quarters full
+of completely sodden clay; its brokenhearted, lopsided, bedraggled
+whisk, reclining dejectedly partly against the humid white wall and
+partly against the bulged and staring water-butt; its dilapidated
+wooden shed that did not go through the farce of sheltering anything
+from the universal moisture save a battered watering-pot without a
+rose; and its ghastly six-foot-high _arbor vitæ_--a shrub which makes
+even summer sunshine look dull.
+
+"I've been looking over the papers you lent me, and I had a chat with
+Gorman before I came into this room. Gorman told me more of Davenport
+and long ago than I knew up to this. But I can make nothing of your
+old client, and am sure the apparition was the result of pure nervous
+relaxation."
+
+"But, confound it, my dear O'Brien, can't you see extreme mental
+relaxation is what I am in dread of?"
+
+"Well, then, I won't say that. I'll say it was pure or impure liquor,
+or liver, or anything you like. Of only one thing am I sure--namely,
+that there was more than a little between this Fahey and Davenport."
+
+"That's my own impression too; but I can make nothing of these
+documents."
+
+"It is not intended you should be able to make anything of them; and
+if I were you, now that the two men concerned in them are dead and
+done for, I'd bother no more about them."
+
+"Get it out of your head for good and all, O'Brien, that I am
+troubling about the men. I am not; I am troubling about myself. I am
+afraid I am going to have something seriously wrong with my brain, and
+that's not a comfortable thing for a man who is not yet old to get
+into his mind."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I don't know what to do. I have often heard it said
+that one of the best ways to adopt in a case of this kind is to bring
+the man face to face with the thing which causes him annoyance----"
+
+"What! Bring me face to face with what I saw! I think, O'Brien, your
+brain is giving way before merely the story of my troubles."
+
+"No, no; I mean to set you face to face with the scene of your
+adventure, and then when you perceive nothing unusual there, you will
+be less disturbed by the memory of your last visit than you are now. I
+myself am curious to look at the place once more. Will you drive over
+with me now, and put your mind at rest for ever?"
+
+He spoke earnestly, considerately.
+
+O'Hanlon thought a moment, and then said with a sigh, followed by a
+lugubrious smile:
+
+"I don't know about putting my mind at rest, but I think the drive
+would do me good. I have been staying too much indoors of late. Yes,
+I'll go. I'll be ready in half-an-hour. Call for me then, and I'll
+have a car waiting outside. I hope the weather will keep up."
+
+O'Brien called at the time appointed, and they drove away towards
+Kilcash.
+
+When they cleared the city, their road lay through miles of bog and
+marsh, in which nothing grew but flags and osiers and bulrushes, with
+here and there patches of thin rank grass. The causeway along which
+they drove had been formed of the earth obtained from cuttings on each
+side of it, and these cuttings made long straight lines of dreary
+canals, uncheered by traffic. Snipe, and duck, and cranes were to be
+seen here, but the ground was rotten, and, in places, dangerous. As
+far as the eye could reach no human habitation was to be seen. On one
+of these canals a poor hare-brained enthusiast had built a small mill,
+now fallen into the last stage of decay. The useless water had no
+power to turn the useless wheel. Now and then a bald gray rock rose a
+few feet above the flat monotony of the swamp. To right and left, low
+green hills touched the leaden sky. All in front and behind was
+cheerless, unbroken morass.
+
+The air was heavy with moisture, but no rain fell. The iron rails,
+woodwork, and cushions of the car were clammy to the touch. The
+horse's head drooped as he plodded spiritlessly along the dark, miry
+road. The driver wore an oilcap, oilskin coat, and had a heavy,
+sodden, yellow rug about his knees. He used the whip with monotonous
+regularity and monotonous absence of result. The horse seemed to feel
+that not even man could be in a hurry on such a day. There was no
+movement in sky, or air, or on the land. The car startled two cranes
+that were fishing by the side of the road. They rose and fled with
+such intolerable slowness as proclaimed their belief that no creature
+which had once gone beneath could ever get from under the flat
+pressure of those purposeless clouds--could ever shake off the slimy
+unctuousness of the land.
+
+The two travellers sat back to back, holding their heads forward
+against the soft, clinging, clammy air. They scarcely spoke a word the
+whole way. The landscape afforded no subject for pleasant remark, and
+the younger man did not care to make matters gloomier. He had nothing
+new to communicate, so he smoked in silence. The elder man could not
+rouse himself to take an interest in any subject not immediate to
+himself, and the driver was half asleep.
+
+At last the ground began to rise very gradually. They were getting
+near the sea. The air grew lighter, fresher, brisker. A thin white
+vapour lay upon the marsh and rolled slowly inward, yet no wind could
+be felt. The air had grown much warmer, and although the dull pall of
+leaden sky still spread unbroken above, it could be felt that sunlight
+existed somewhere overhead. The bleak vacuity of an overcast winter
+day was being insensibly filled with assurances of activity and life,
+and from the wide sweep of the full horizontal front there was the
+breath, the inchoate murmur as though the leaves of a hundred thousand
+trees felt the approach of wind. That was the fine, broad, opening
+phrase of the diapason tones drawn by the ocean from the shore in its
+portentous prelude to the silence of eternity.
+
+Higher and higher they crawled slowly, gradually, until they could
+tell what part of the sky lay over the sea by reason of its greater
+whiteness.
+
+And now the various movements in the orchestra of the sea began to
+assemble and marshal before their ears. Here the shrill silver hiss of
+the long waves toppling in curved cascades, and running swiftly inland
+on the sand. Here the roar and rattle of stubborn boulders torn from
+their rocky holds by the mad out-wash of the shattered wave. Here the
+low hollow groaning of protesting caves, vocal, inscrutable. Afar off
+the deep boom of the mighty wave, which, gliding up to the land, a
+green, unbroken mound of water, flung itself in white, impotent rage
+against the unrepining, unappalled, forlorn cliffs, and made the air
+thunder with mutinous clamour.
+
+There was no storm--nothing beyond the ordinary winter roller of the
+Atlantic.
+
+The car stopped, and the two friends descended.
+
+"It's only a few hundred yards from this to the cliff over the Black
+Rock," said the driver. "But it's lonely there on a day like this.
+Don't go down. Don't trust yourself on that rock a day like this. She
+may begin any minute a day like this, and if she catches you between
+her and the water, you're dead men."
+
+The two friends struck across the downs, the younger leading the way.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXII.
+
+                              THE ROCK.
+
+
+Here was the dull blue wintry sea under the dull gray wintry sky. No
+wind blew, no rain fell. A thin, soft sea moisture rose from the sea
+and met a thin, soft cloud moisture descending from the clouds. The
+long, even roller of the Atlantic stole slowly, deliberately,
+sullenly, from the level plains of the ocean, growing to the eye
+imperceptibly as it came. The water was thickly streaked with tawny,
+vapid froth; the base of the high, impassable, brown rocky coast was
+marked by a broad but diminishing line of yellow foam.
+
+No bird was visible in the air, no ship on the sea, no living creature
+on the land but the two men, O'Hanlon and O'Brien. A mile inland stood
+lonely Kilcash House, which had for years been the home of the dead
+man and his beautiful wife. Below, between the towering, oppressive,
+liver-coloured cliffs and the foam-mantled, blanched blue sea lay the
+Black Rock, a huge, flat, monstrous table cast off by the land and
+spurned by the sea.
+
+For a while the two men stood speechless on the edge of the cliff
+overlooking the barren waste of heaving waters and the sullen ramparts
+of indomitable heights. The deep boom of the bursting wave, the roar
+of the outwashing boulders, and the shrill hiss of the falling spray,
+made the dismal scene more deserted and forlorn. The sea and cliffs
+were forbidding to man. They seemed to resent the presence of man--to
+desire, now that they were not engaged in actual war, no intrusion on
+the lines where their gigantic conflicts were waged.
+
+The Black Rock stretched out half-a-mile from the base of the cliff
+into the sea, and was half-a-mile wide. Above it the land was slightly
+hollowed towards the sea, and would, but for the Black Rock beneath,
+form a bay-like indentation in the shore. The chord of this arc was
+about six hundred yards, so that the greater mass of the Black Rock
+projected into the sea beyond the heads of the cliffs.
+
+The Rock, as it was called for brevity in the neighbourhood, was only
+a few feet above the reach of the waves and broken water when a strong
+wind blew from the south-west. It shelved outward, and when the waters
+were very rough, when a storm raged, the shattered waves leaped up on
+it, and bounded, hissing in irresistible fury, towards the inner
+cliff, but were arrested, dispersed, and poured down the sides of the
+Rock ere they reached the inner cliff. The Rock was highest at the
+centre, and descended to right, left, front, and rear. But although it
+was lower at the rear than in the centre, it was much higher there
+than in front. Viewed from above, it was not unlike the back of some
+prodigious sea monster rising above the surface of the water. In shape
+it resembled a vast creature of the barnacle kind, the apex of whose
+shell would represent the highest point of the Rock, and the
+corrugations stand for the ridges and hollows of the sides from the
+highest point of the ledge to the lower ones.
+
+The colour, too, was not unlike that of a barnacle. For, although the
+people had given it the name of the Black Rock, it was black only by
+comparison with the cliffs. The surface was made up of smooth, slimy
+ridges, dark blue-green in the hollows, growing lighter as the curve
+sloped upward, and on the summit, here and there, deep yellow brown or
+oak.
+
+Winter or summer, the Rock was never quite dry. It was always damp,
+clammy, treacherous. It was always dangerous to the foot. There was no
+fear of one who fell slipping into the sea, unless the misfortune
+occurred very near the brink. Then a fall and a plunge were certain
+death, for the great rollers of the ocean would grind or dash the life
+out of a man against these rocks in a few minutes. But many a man had
+slipped and hurt himself badly, and two fatally, on that cruel Black
+Rock.
+
+Once a man of the village of Kilcash had fallen, broken his leg in two
+places, and been carried up the cliff path and across the downs to
+die. Another had slipped on the top of one ridge. For a moment his
+body swept backward in an arc like a bent bow, until his head touched
+the top of the next ridge behind. All his muscles instantly relaxed,
+his chin was crushed down upon his chest, he rolled for an instant
+into a shapeless heap, rolled down into the trough, and lay at full
+length with dead, wide open eyes turned upward to the sun. Several
+people had from time to time met with dire accidents on that dangerous
+slope by reason of the uncertain footing it afforded.
+
+But the great terror of the Black Rock did not lie in the greasiness
+of its surface. The chief danger lay below the surface. The deadly
+monster of that desolate tract was hidden from view, until suddenly,
+and generally without warning, it sprang forth upon its victim, and
+seized him and bore him away to certain and awful death. It gave no
+chance of respite or rescue; it gave no time for thought or prayer.
+One moment man in the full vigour of life, full of the pride of life,
+full joy in life, stood upon that awful field of slippery rock, and
+the next was caught from behind and dragged into the foaming sea by a
+force no ten men could fight against for a moment.
+
+All the year round this terrible monster of death lurked here, and
+upon provocation would rush out, and, when opportunity offered,
+invariably destroy. It could not be drowned with water or scared by
+fire, or slain with lethal weapons. It could not be lured or trapped.
+It would come to an end no one knew when. It had begun to exist
+centuries ago. It varied in length with the season of the year, and in
+bulk with the phases of the moon. It had its lair in a cave. No boat
+along all that coast durst enter the Whale's Mouth for fear of it; for
+although much could be foretold of its habits, all could not. No one
+could infallibly predict for an hour what it would do--except one
+thing: that any boat in that cave when it did appear would infallibly
+be dashed into a thousand splinters. That was the only thing certain
+about it. To be caught in its cave would, if possible, be still more
+terrible than to be caught by it on the Black Rock.
+
+Its dimensions varied from twenty to a hundred and fifty feet one way
+by ten to twelve and six to eight another.
+
+Along the whole coast it was spoken of with fear. Nothing else like it
+was known in those parts. It was one of the sights which made holiday
+makers seek the secluded fishing of Kilcash. The inhabitants knew its
+ways better than strangers. And yet people of the village had fallen a
+prey to its fury. More than a dozen villagers had within four
+generations died in its deadly embrace, and more than an equal number
+of visitors within the same period. Suppose the season visitors had
+been at their highest number all the year round, it had been
+calculated that forty of them would have been sacrificed in the time.
+
+Over and over again visitors had been warned against going near the
+place; but the attraction of danger proved too strong for prudence,
+and people would go for mere bravado or out of morbid curiosity. The
+chance of contracting a fatal malady has no allurements for man: the
+prospect of a violent death fascinates him. The love of daring certain
+death by violence is found in few; the willingness to dare great peril
+by violence is almost universal in young men of healthy bodies and
+minds. It has been justly said that the most extraordinary contract
+into which large bodies of men ever voluntarily enter is that by which
+they agree to stand up in a field and allow themselves to be shot at
+for thirteenpence a day; and yet men risk their lives daily willingly,
+at a less price--nay, for no price at all.
+
+Here, on this very Black Rock, a terrible instance occurred with
+disastrous result five years before, when three young Trinity College
+students were staying for the summer vacation at Kilcash. They were
+friends, and lodged in the same cottage. They went on little
+excursions together. Of course they had heard all about the terrors of
+the Black Rock. In an hour of eclipse they resolved not only to visit
+the fatal Rock, but to lunch there under circumstances of the greatest
+danger. They mentioned their intention freely, and were warned by the
+simple people of the village that they ran a risk in going to the spot
+they named, and at the time they selected, and that they absolutely
+courted death by delaying for luncheon. That afternoon one of the
+three ran the whole way back into the village and told the appalling
+tale. He had strayed a few yards from his friends, when suddenly burst
+upon his ears a thunderous roar. The Rock shook beneath his feet as
+though it would burst asunder. He was instantly covered and blinded
+with mist and sea smoke. He gave himself up for lost, and
+instinctively ran towards the cliff. Then he heard a fearful crash of
+waters, and again the Rock shook. He wondered his destruction had been
+so long delayed. He waited until all was still. He turned round. His
+friends had disappeared. Their bodies were never recovered.
+
+As it has been said, the Black Rock was not in reality black, but a
+dark, dirty olive green. Perhaps it got its name from the dark or
+black deeds which had been enacted on it.
+
+Around the Black Rock the cliffs do not stand very high. They reach to
+little more than a hundred feet above the solid shelf below. In colour
+they are of a deep liver hue. They lean outward and take the form of
+huge broad broken pilasters, set against an irregular wall. These
+cliffs, like the Rock, are always damp, but, unlike the Rock, never
+clammy. They are smooth and flat, with sharp angles and rectangular
+fractures. They are cold and hard, and seem built by nature to define
+for ever the frontier of the ocean.
+
+At the point of the Rock furthest inland the cliff is of a softer
+nature, and hence the water has eaten deeper in here. The cliff is
+part clay, part gravel, and part boulder. Here is a temporary break in
+the continuity of the regular formation. There is no depression on the
+downs above to correspond with this fault. Thus at the back of what
+has been called the bay, there are about two hundred yards long of
+cliff, which the sea would soon tear away if it could get at it. But
+the Black Rock stood between the greedy ocean and the vulnerable point
+of the cliff. It formed a sufficient outpost. This part of the bay
+slants inwards, not outwards, as the two arms. In this part a little
+copper ore was once found, and a shaft sunk. But the mine proved of no
+practical value, and, after absorbing much money, was abandoned fifty
+years ago. The shaft was sunk two hundred feet; but here, even if the
+mine had proved rich, the water would have presented serious
+difficulties, for after getting down a hundred and twenty feet it
+began to appear, and at a hundred and fifty it occasioned delay and
+inconvenience. Forty years ago the top of the shaft had been covered
+with planks and clay to prevent accident. Long ago the machinery and
+wooden engine-house and tool-house had been carried away, and now the
+site of the head of the shaft was indistinguishable from the other
+bramble-grown parts of the sloping cliff over the Black Rock. This
+head of the mine was always carefully avoided by the inhabitants, for
+every one said some day or other the planks were sure to give way and
+fall to the bottom. It was of no interest whatever to visitors, for
+nothing was to be seen, and a landslip had destroyed the rude road
+long ago made to it. It was on the right-hand side of one looking
+seaward.
+
+On this inside of the bay of stone ran downwards the path leading to
+the great table below. It was a natural path almost the whole way. Art
+of the simplest kind had cut a little here and filled up a little
+there, and levelled a little in another place, but the lion's share of
+the work had been found ready to man's hand. There was no attempt at
+road-making, or attaining to a surface. Those were luxuries of
+civilisation: this was a work of rough art and benignant nature.
+
+As one faced the sea, the path crossed over from left to right, then
+from right to left, and finally from left to right. Standing on the
+cliff at the middle point of the bay, and looking down at the broad
+expanse of slanting rock, only two things caught the eye, when the
+dimensions, the colour, and conformation had been taken in. Directly
+in front, and almost in the middle of the Rock, rose the apex of what
+has been likened to the shell of a barnacle. It was not more than ten
+feet above the level of the Rock, twenty feet from its centre, and was
+part of the Rock itself.
+
+In a direct line with the apex, and about half-way between it and the
+outer rim of the Rock, there is a black spot which, upon closer
+inspection, proves to be a hole of some kind. At the distance it is
+impossible to perceive any more.
+
+Towards this hole O'Hanlon pointed his arm, and said to O'Brien:
+
+"There's the Hole. You know it well enough."
+
+"Of course. But you could not recognise him so far off," said O'Brien,
+shading his eyes to look.
+
+"No; but I told you I saw him in here quite close;" and he pointed.
+"He or it went on without hesitation, and then jumped in. He or it,
+whichever you prefer, O'Brien, went in as sure as I have a head on me.
+Either that or I am going mad."
+
+O'Brien thought awhile in silence, with his hand on his chin and his
+eyes turned on the bleak, dreary waste of stone and water before him.
+
+"O'Hanlon, you're not afraid to risk seeing anything--that thing
+again?" he asked at length--adding, "I want to have a look at the
+place."
+
+The other hesitated a little before he drew himself up, and said:
+
+"No. I may as well face it and be sure of the worst--be certain
+whether I am to end my days in a lunatic asylum or not."
+
+The two men descended to the Black Rock.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+                       THE HOME OF THE MONSTER.
+
+
+It was now growing dusk. The loneliness of the place was extreme. A
+few sea-gulls were wheeling and crying in the dull air overhead. They
+had come back from their long day's fishing far out to sea and up and
+down the coast, and were leisurely wheeling, scouting, and sailing
+shoreward to their homes among the crags.
+
+Nothing else stirred or broke the stillness, except the sea--the
+imperial, the insatiable, the eternal sea!--the sea that for ever
+chafes and storms, and seeks to eat away or overwhelm the land because
+it spurns and writhes under its function of merely filling up the
+hollows of earth and balancing the volume of the world.
+
+If all the solids of the earth were turned smooth in the mighty lathe
+that drives the earth round its axis, then water would be supreme, and
+this planet would be a polished, argent sphere, flashing through
+interspaces between clouds as it spun and flew along the orbit of gold
+woven of light for it by the sun.
+
+Day and night the waters work without ceasing to overwhelm the earth.
+Day and night the torrents tear down the sand and boulders and trees
+of the mountains and fling them into the hidden hollows at the mouths
+of rivers. All the deltas of the world are offerings of the torrents
+and rivers towards carrying out the grand scheme of the oceans
+metropolitan. Pool and tarn and lake and inland sea, and remotest
+waters that touch undreamed-of isles, are daily and nightly fretting
+or tearing away the uncomplaining shores.
+
+The sun and moon and winds are leagued against the pastoral earth.
+Daily the sun transports millions of tons of water from the harmless
+plains of deep-sea waters, and the wind takes these vaporous foes of
+the land and hurls them on the loftiest mountains, so that they may
+gain the greatest speed and rending force and carrying power as they
+fly back with spoils of earth to their old friend the sea. The sun
+splits the cliffs with heat, and the winds lend fascines to the waves,
+so that the injured portions may be reached, cast down, and another
+line of defence destroyed.
+
+Lest the sun and the winds and the rivers are not enough to accomplish
+the ruin of man's territory, the moon--the gentle moon of poets and
+lovers--the cold, frigid moon helps with that coldest of all things on
+earth, the glacier, to complete the havoc. The power of the wind is
+but partial, intermittent; that of the moon and the glacier general,
+everlasting. The tides are the heights commanding the outworks of the
+land; the moving fields of ice unsuspected traitors, in the garb of
+solidity, sapping the walls of the citadel.
+
+Even now the list of enemies is not complete. In the core and centre
+of the earth itself the arch-traitor, the mightiest traitor of all,
+lies, gravitation, which should naturally be the lieutenant of the
+denser of the two combatants. This is the most relentless, the most
+unmerciful leveller of all. It seizes with equal avidity upon the moat
+that the sunlight only makes visible, and the loosened but yet
+unapportioned cliff of a thousand feet high, cut by the river of a
+Mexican cañon.
+
+Electricity, the irresistible enemy and imponderable slave of man, is
+on the side of the waters. It binds the vapours of the oceans
+together, and scatters them when it reaches the hills. It rends trees
+and stones and buildings, and flings them down ready for easy
+porterage by the more methodical water.
+
+One of these forces that ought to be on the side of the land,
+gravitation, has deserted its own side for the water. It is one force,
+and is universally operative. One of these forces that ought to be on
+the side of the sea has deserted its own side for the land. It is one
+force, but it operates through hundreds of thousands, of millions of
+agents; it is the coral insect. It transmutes the waters which give
+life and sustenance to it into land against which the waters war. It
+raises up an island where there ought to be two hundred fathoms of
+water. It uses up more material in making islands than all the great
+rivers put together deposit at their deltas.
+
+The only loyal servant land has is the central fire. It can throw up
+in one minute as much as all the others can tear down in a hundred
+years. The central fire pushes an ocean aside with as much ease as a
+wave raises a boat. It throws up the Andes in less time than it took
+the sea, with its allied forces, to rob England of Lyonnesse.
+
+The coral insect and the central fire, the least and the hugest of the
+world's working forces, are more than equal to all the forces arrayed
+against them, and are the humble and the terrible friends of man.
+
+Here, by this gloomy sea, no coral insect toiled, no earthquake
+heaved, no volcano thrust up a flaming torch of hope to heaven. Here
+the enemies of the land had no foe to encounter but the resolute
+indifference of the veteran cliffs. Here the sea, and the tides, and
+the winds, and gravitation worked on unchallenged by active
+resistance. Year after year, almost imperceptible pieces of cliff
+fell, were engulfed. Year after year the incessant action of the waves
+was gnawing deeper and deeper into the heart of the land. Year after
+year the adamantine substance of the Black Rock was diminishing,
+though in a generation no man noticed a change in the Rock, and few a
+change in the cliff.
+
+This coast was honeycombed with caves. In the summer time, when the
+weather was fine, pleasure parties put off from Kilcash for "The
+Caves," as the district in which they were to be found was, with
+peculiar want of fancy or imagination in so imaginative a race, called
+by the inhabitants of the village.
+
+The region of caves was all to the east of Kilcash, and extended along
+several miles of coast. Some caves were wide-mouthed, shallow, low,
+uninteresting; others spacious, lofty, ramified. In order to excite
+curiosity and inspire awe, some were reported to be unexplored; others
+had legends. Others had sad stories of truthful tragedies. It was safe
+to enter one at low water only, and safe to stay no longer than a few
+minutes because of the stalactites. If you wished to see another, and
+not stay in its black, chill maw for four hours, you must go on the
+top of high water, and stay no more than a good hour. To a third you
+might go at any time of tide. To a fourth only on the last of the
+lowest of neaps, and then be quick and get away again. To a sixth only
+on the top of spring tides. To one, and one only, which might be
+entered at any state of tide--Never.
+
+This last cave, which not the boldest fisherman in Kilcash or the next
+village to it would face, was called the Whale's Mouth, and ran in
+under the Black Rock.
+
+The opening of the Whale's Mouth is on the south-west or extreme
+seaward side of the Black Rock. At full of spring tide the entrance to
+it is about fifteen feet high and of equal breadth. The difference
+between high and low water here is about fifteen feet. Hence, at
+lowest of spring tide, the measurement from the surface of the water
+to the roof at the entrance would be thirty feet.
+
+At the entrance of the Whale's Mouth the outline of the Black Rock is
+blunt, abrupt, solid. The base of the Rock is never uncovered by
+water. The wash of the long roller of the Atlantic is always against
+its sides. The general formation of the cave is that of a square. It
+is more like the hideous distended jaws of the crocodile than of the
+whale; but the reason for calling it the Whale's Mouth does not lie in
+the immediate entrance, but further on, in the roof of the forbidding
+cavern.
+
+For years no one had dared to enter that cavern. Along the coast were
+stories of two boats which had ventured in. Not a plank, oar, or man
+of the first had ever been seen again. Part of the boat, oars, and
+crew of the other had been seen for one brief moment, smashed and
+mangled, and then disappeared for ever. What the fate of the former
+was no one could tell; what the fate of the latter had been all knew.
+
+As far as could be seen into the cave from the outside, there was
+nothing dangerous or remarkable-looking about it. It declined slightly
+in height, but the walls did not seem to come any closer together.
+There was no rock or obstruction of any kind visible in it. The long,
+even swells rolled in unbroken; but after each wave passed out of
+sight there was a deep tumultuous explosion, and a strange, loud sound
+of rushing and struggling water. There was no weakening or gradual
+dispersion of the force of the wave. Its power seemed shattered and
+absorbed at once.
+
+This cave had another mysterious and disquieting faculty. It absorbed
+and discharged more water than could be accounted for by any other
+supposition but that inside somewhere it expanded prodigiously. At
+flood tide the water went in eagerly; at ebb tide it ran out at so
+quick a rate, many believed a large body of fresh water, or foreign
+water of some other kind, found a way into it. On flood tide, the
+fishermen gave it a wide berth, lest by any chance or mischance they
+might be sucked into it.
+
+Often curious people passing by at flood tide threw overboard articles
+that would float, and watched them as they were slowly but surely
+drawn into that gaping vault. There was no doubt they were swallowed
+by that inky void, but they never were seen by man again. Some of the
+simpler people believed that there was a whirlpool at the end of the
+cave, and that if this whirlpool took anything down, it never gave
+that thing, or sign or token of that thing, back again. People on
+these shores attach miraculous powers to whirlpools. There are no
+whirlpools of consequence in the neighbourhood, but terrible stories
+of them had reached the people, and filled the simple folk with
+superstitious awe.
+
+In this shunned and mysterious cell the rock-monster had its home. On
+the sea it was harmless. But no one durst enter its haunt, and yet
+this was not wholly from fear of the monster, but of the place itself,
+with its loud explosions, its unaccountable indraught and outflow, and
+the unreturning dead of the two boats. The monster had its home in the
+cave; but his sphere of action was on the vast plain of rock above.
+
+O'Hanlon and O'Brien succeeded in crossing the Black Rock without
+accident, and were drawing near the Hole.
+
+"It was there," said O'Hanlon, pointing--"just there. I saw him as
+plain as ever eyes saw anything."
+
+O'Hanlon pointed to the north-east, or shore side, of the Hole.
+
+The two men drew nearer, and then, pausing a moment to fix their hats
+firmly on their heads and grasp one another round the waist, crept
+cautiously forward until they stood on the brink of the Hole. They
+looked down.
+
+The Hole was almost square, about thirty feet by thirty feet, and
+narrowing irregularly as it went down to about half that size. The
+depth from where the two stood to the surface of the water below was
+thirty-five feet.
+
+The bottom of the Hole was naturally scant of light, and the light now
+in the sky was poor and thin.
+
+The sides were almost smooth, and at the bottom of the funnel the
+angles a little rounded in. The rock upon which they stood seemed to
+be about twenty-five feet thick, and the free space between the bottom
+of the rock and the surface of the water ten feet. Thus
+the height of the cave at the Hole was at the present time of
+tide--half-tide flood--ten feet.
+
+At the bottom of the Hole the water was no longer smooth, even quiet,
+but broken and turbid, opaque, and mantled with froth. Every wave that
+entered the vestibule of the cave swung the uneasy seething mass
+inward, to return in a few seconds on the back-wash. But the froth did
+not come back every time; it crept further on, until at the third wave
+the froth disappeared inward, to be succeeded by other froth moving at
+the same rate.
+
+It made one giddy to look for any length of time. After a few minutes
+both men drew back by mutual consent.
+
+"No mortal man could live down there for five minutes," said O'Hanlon,
+with a shiver.
+
+"No," said O'Brien, with a laugh, "or ghost either, for that matter.
+But, I say, O'Hanlon, what cool and roomy lodging it would afford to
+all the Fishery Commissioners in the United Kingdoms!"
+
+"This is no place for joking," said O'Hanlon, uneasily. "Let us get
+back. I am sick of this place."
+
+"Wait a minute," said O'Brien. "As this wretched man Fahey was seen
+here both in the flesh and the spirit for the last time, let me read
+the documents he left in your charge."
+
+He put his hand in his pocket, and read the papers by the fast-fading
+light.
+
+"Come on. Take care you don't slip. The papers are simple enough on
+the surface, except No. 11. Shall I read it to you?"
+
+"Ay," answered O'Hanlon absently.
+
+It was nothing to him. He was devoting his thoughts to getting safely
+over this greasy, clammy, slippery surface.
+
+O'Brien read out slowly:
+
+"'Memorandum.--Rise 15·6 lowest. At lowest minute of lowest forward
+with all might undaunted. The foregoing refers to _sculls_. With only
+one _skull_ any lowest or any last quarter; but great forward pluck
+required for this. In both cases (of course!) left.'
+
+"Well," said O'Brien, "I confess I can't make anything of it. Can
+you?"
+
+"No," said the other listlessly.
+
+They had now reached the foot of the path.
+
+"I think it's rubbish. What do you say?"
+
+"Unmitigated rubbish."
+
+"What, for instance, can he mean by 'skull' and 'sculls' with a line
+under each? The writing is that of a man of some education."
+
+"Oh, yes--he was a man of some education."
+
+O'Brien paused in his walk, and cried:
+
+"Stop! I think I have an idea."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"From what you know of this man, do you think he could spell a word of
+ordinary English?"
+
+"I should think so."
+
+"Then I _have_ an idea.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"_Wait_."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+                               KILCASH.
+
+
+O'Brien and O'Hanlon gained the top of the cliff, and reached the car
+waiting on the road without saying anything further. The former was
+busy with his thoughts; the latter, after O'Brien's word "Wait," sank
+into indifference.
+
+"I'm ashamed of two sensible men such as you," said the driver, in a
+southern brogue, "going down there on an uncertain season like this,
+and at the end of daylight. It's a mercy you ever got back alive."
+
+"Or dead," said O'Brien, with a laugh.
+
+"Never mind, Terry; we're none the worse for it. Now, drive on to
+Kilcash, and pull up at the Strand Hotel."
+
+The driver whipped his horse, and the remainder of the journey was
+accomplished in silence.
+
+Kilcash is a small, straggling village, built on the slopes of the
+cliffs surrounding Kilcash Bay, and on the low ground lying in front
+of the bay. In summer it is usually pretty full of people, for
+although no railway has yet reached it, hundreds of families live in
+the neighbourhood, and many who dwell at a distance use it as a
+holiday resort. In winter it is dreary, deserted, dead. The closed-up
+lodging-houses and cottages which, under the influence of the summer
+sun, grow bright and cheerful with flowers and the faces of children,
+in winter stare with blank window eyes at the cold gray sky and
+monotonous level of the sea. It was difficult to say who governed
+Kilcash--five policemen and seven coastguardsmen, possibly; for there
+was no other sign of official life.
+
+There was no Corporation, no Commissioners under the Towns Improvement
+Act, no gas-house, no water-works, no sanitary board, no guardians of
+the poor, no bellman, no watering-carts, no workhouse, no police-court,
+no tax or rate collector, no exciseman, no soldier, no lawyer. There
+were only three institutions, and these were curative--namely, two
+houses of worship of different denominations, and a dispensary.
+
+Indirect taxation reached the people occultly; of direct taxation they
+knew nothing. No doubt some one paid for mending their sewer when the
+rain-water of winter burst it. No doubt some one paid for putting
+metal on the roads when the ruts became absolutely dangerous. No doubt
+some one paid the men who built up the breach in the Storm Wall.
+
+There was a slumbering belief that the police had powers, and the
+coastguards functions. For instance, the police fished a good deal,
+smoked fairly well, and were respectable with haughtiness. The
+coastguards had a boat. In the eyes of Kilcash the possession of a
+boat was sufficient to account for anything in the world. The
+coastguards went out in their boat only in fine weather, which gave
+them the aspect of gentlemen. They kept their boat scrupulously mopped
+and painted--painted, not tarred; which was foppish, and a little
+weak-minded. They carefully displayed in the station on the hill,
+carbines and cutlasses of which Kilcash stood in no more awe than it
+did of the bulrushes in the bog at the back of the village. To be
+sure, there was a theory that upon occasion the police might call on
+the coastguards to come out and assist them. But what this occasion
+was no one knew. Sergeant Mahony had been heard to hint broadly that
+in such a dire extremity--which would not, he said, curdle his blood
+in the least--the chief command would devolve on him. Although nothing
+was known for certain as to the exigency which might place the whole
+offensive and defensive forces of the village under the command of
+Mahony, Tim Curran had, when going home late of an evening, said he
+supposed the landing of the French in Dublin Bay would lead to that
+extraordinary act of power. Tim had been in Dublin for three days, and
+was believed to be infallible on all matters connected, or that might
+ever be connected, with the bay--from herrings to the French Fleet. It
+must not be deduced from this that Kilcash assumed a very servile
+attitude towards Dublin; for if Dublin had a bay, so likewise had
+Kilcash.
+
+In the village there was one secret held by all, known by all, but
+scarcely once in a lifetime spoken of by one neighbour to another. It
+is more than likely that this secret would never have been dreamed of
+only for a fool once famous in the village, now long since dead. And
+even this fool told the secret to but few. For a reason lost in the
+obscurity of local dulness, this fool was named "The Prince of
+Orange." He went about barefooted, in the most gaudy raiment he could
+beg. He preferred a soldiers or a huntsman's cast-off coat to any
+other, and if he was fortunate enough to get such a garment, he
+stitched to it all the blue, yellow, and green ribbons he could lay
+hands on. He was one of the villagers killed by the monster of the
+Black Rock. On the outer face of it the fishing was generally good for
+long lines, and one day, while making believe to fish there with an
+old brace and a piece of tattered ribbon tied together, he was
+surprised and overwhelmed.
+
+The great secret of the people of Kilcash was that no man, woman, or
+child of the whole village could understand why people came there in
+summer. Of course the advent of the visitors filled the pockets of the
+inhabitants, which was no more than the inhabitants were entitled to
+expect, which was no more than natural, since it has been so for
+generations. But why should people come to Kilcash in the summer
+months? It was said they came to the sea. But why?
+
+Supposing a sailor had been at sea for three years and then came home
+to Kilcash, did he want to look at the land? Did any one in the world
+ever want to see the land? These people who came with the long, hot
+days had near their own homes lakes or rivers, or pools or wells. All
+these were water--nothing but water. There was salt in one, and not in
+the other--that was all the difference. Put a bucket of sea-water
+beside a bucket of fresh, and who could tell the difference without
+tasting or smelling?
+
+When a man came back from a three years' cruise, did he go straight
+off into the country and stand or lie staring at the fields and
+haystacks? Not he. Either he came home to Kilcash, or went to a big
+town where he could see strange sights and buy fine things with his
+wages. Some came to fish. To fish! Why, every gurnet they caught cost
+them about a pound of money. The doctors told them to come for health.
+Health! What did they think of rheumatism, and fever, and bronchitis,
+and pleurisy, and lumbago, and other diseases, a thousand times worse
+at the sea than inland? Did any one ever know the land to kill a man?
+How many thousands a year did the sea kill? In the heat of summer it
+was all very well to bathe, and swim, and lie about on the sands and
+rocks, to wade and tumble into pools and get drenched with spray. But
+wait until the winter comes. Wait until they get the wages of their
+summer folly. Wait until they are racked by pains, and choked with a
+cough, and crippled with stiff joints. When they feel the penalties
+they are far from the place where they incurred them, and the fools of
+doctors tell them they must go back to the sea next summer in order to
+get finally rid of their maladies! Rubbish. In reality they come to
+the sea to drive in the few nails still wanting in their coffins.
+
+This secret made the people of Kilcash conscious of being hypocrites,
+and accounted for the forced smile with which they greeted visitors in
+summer, and the night of leaden gloom which descended on them when the
+visitors departed for the year. The inhabitants of Kilcash never
+smiled in winter. To laugh in winter would have sounded like a pæan
+over their miserable, misguided visitors. It would have indicated a
+heartless and brutal nature.
+
+O'Brien and O'Hanlon alighted at the "Strand Hotel," and ordered
+dinner and beds. During dinner, O'Hanlon made two ineffectual attempts
+to extract O'Brien's idea from him, but the latter would not speak. He
+smiled, and repeated his former word "Wait." O'Brien in his turn tried
+to induce O'Hanlon to talk, but the latter answered in the briefest
+and most apathetic way. The dinner was finished in absolute silence.
+
+When it was over, O'Brien rose and said:
+
+"You won't mind my going out for an hour or so?"
+
+"Going out!" cried O'Hanlon, rousing up. "Where on earth are you going
+at such an hour, in such a place? Not to that accursed Black Rock?"
+
+"No, no," said O'Brien. "Only I'm quite sure you would never dream of
+entering such a place, I would ask you to come with me."
+
+"What place?"
+
+"Oh, you're too respectable for it, I assure you."
+
+"Nonsense! I'll go with you."
+
+"I'll lay you a sovereign you don't."
+
+"Done!"
+
+"Done! I'm going to the 'Blue Anchor' to drink a pint of beer and
+smoke a pipe of tobacco. Hand over the money."
+
+"The 'Blue Anchor'--the Blue 'Anchor!' Are _you_ out of your mind too,
+or are you joking? Oh, I know! You want to get rid of me for an hour,
+but don't like to say so."
+
+"I have a bet of a sovereign on it, and I'll take the money now, if
+you like. Will that convince you?"
+
+"No; I'll pay when you come back and tell me you have been there. But
+if you really are going to that low beershop, tell me what you are
+going there for."
+
+"Amusement. I find you dull."
+
+O'Hanlon screwed up his eyes and regarded O'Brien closely.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+He knew O'Brien much too well to think he meant to be offensive, or
+even smart at the expense of an old friend without good reason. He
+suspected O'Brien was waiving a direct answer, which might cause pain
+to his hearer.
+
+"It's something you suspect, and don't like to tell me. You're not
+going over to the dispensary to ask Dr. Flynn to drop in presently, as
+though by accident, and find me here, and make an informal
+examination?"
+
+This was said half-playfully.
+
+"Take care," said O'Brien, as he buttoned on his overcoat. "If you
+don't knock off talking about your infernal sanity, you'll drive _me_
+mad; and won't that be a nice kettle of fish? Now look here: Are you,
+or are you not, coming with me to the 'Blue Anchor' to smoke a frugal
+pipe and drink a frugal pint of beer--or, more correctly, a pint of
+frugal beer? Yes or no?"
+
+"No," answered O'Hanlon, sinking back hopelessly on the chair from
+which he had risen. "It would be as much as my professional position
+is worth."
+
+"All right, then; I'm off. I'll be back within an hour. Don't forget
+you owe me a sovereign;" and he left the room.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXV.
+
+                          THE "BLUE ANCHOR."
+
+
+The "Blue Anchor" was certainly not a place suited to the leisure
+moments of a respectable solicitor enjoying first-rate practice in an
+important town. It was small, low, dingy, blear-windowed, dilapidated.
+It stood in a little by-street, if a place like Kilcash can be said to
+have a by-street, since it has no main street or streets, all streets
+being in some way or another intimately connected with the Storm Wall,
+as the road inside that work was called.
+
+The "Blue Anchor" has no pretensions to a "front." On one side of the
+door is a small, square window filled with small panes of unclean
+glass. The house is two storeys high; the ground-floor consists of
+three rooms--namely, the bar, tap-room, and kitchen. The floors of
+these three rooms are formed of beaten clay, and boast of neither
+straw nor sand.
+
+Within the bar are a plain deal table and four chairs. By means of
+these, the bar is, for the sake of gentility, used as the family
+refectory, for people of any pretensions know that dining in the
+kitchen is a sign of low origin. Opposite the counter of the bar
+stands the door into the tap-room. Folk who are in haste can be served
+at the bar, but most of the customers of the "Blue Anchor" are
+strangers to haste, and take their liquor seated in the tap-room--or
+tap, as it is familiarly and affectionately called by those who are
+familiar with the place. It is about twelve feet square, with a large
+deal table in the middle, and a bench on each side of the table. At
+the upper end is a hearth, on which smoulders a good peat fire, the
+smoke from which goes up a large flue that comes down to within five
+feet of the floor like a huge funnel. Two short pieces of logs, the
+spoil of some wreck, serve as chimney-seats. The benches are of
+home-make, and very unsteady on their legs. The continual presence of
+beer seems to have muddled them as to the exact position of their
+centre of gravity; and this condition, combined with the deplorable
+unevenness of the floor, has made them despair of ever being able to
+find it out.
+
+But the table is as firm as the Black Rock itself John Tobin, the
+landlord--an enormously fat man, in gaiters, knee-breeches, and a
+cutaway-coat--takes great pride in the invincible stability of that
+table. Whenever he is angered by anything, he goes into the tap-room,
+places his hands flat on the middle of the table, and gives two,
+three, or four shakes, according to the agitation of his feelings.
+Then he goes out to the front door, looks critically at the sky to
+seaward, comes back to the bar, and, having mopped his forehead,
+sighs, and is once more calm.
+
+The wonder of every one in the village is how the "Blue Anchor"
+manages to live, and support John, his wife, and daughter. In summer
+the men are too busy to go often, except for a pint or two before
+retiring for the night; and in winter the men have very little or no
+money to spend.
+
+When Jerry O'Brien reached the "Blue Anchor" he spoke a few cheerful
+words to John Tobin, whom every frequenter of Kilcash knew, told him
+he had run out from Kilbarry for the evening, with a view to seeing
+how things were in the village, and how things were likely to be there
+in the coming season. Jerry did not know exactly what the latter
+phrase could mean, but it sounded friendly, as though he took an
+interest in the place.
+
+Old John instantly attached a definite meaning to his words, and said,
+with a smile:
+
+"Ah, sir, glad to hear it. Going to marry, sir, and settle down and
+take a house here for the season?"
+
+Jerry started a little, coloured a little, and then said gaily:
+
+"No such luck, John--no such luck! I meant about the fishing, you
+know. I'll go in and smoke a pipe for a bit."
+
+"And welcome, sir," said the fat old man, steering himself around the
+end of the counter, and bringing his vast stomach safely into view,
+with watch-chain, watch-key, and seals swaying giddily from his
+overhanging fob.
+
+There were only two guests in the "Blue Anchor." Both were smoking
+short clay pipes; each had a pint pewter pot before him. Jerry nodded
+to each and said "Good evening" before sitting down. He called for a
+pipe and tobacco for himself, and then asked if all, John Tobin
+included, would have a drink, "because, you know," said he, "as I
+never have been here before, it is only fair I should pay my footing,"
+a speech which was very cordially received. A wish was expressed by
+John Tobin that since it was the first time he hoped it wouldn't be
+the last. Upon which the two fishermen applauded and cleared their
+throats in anticipation of beer.
+
+For a while O'Brien led the men to speak of the prospects of the next
+season's fishing, and the chances of its being a good one. By the end
+of half-an-hour they were ready for more beer. Then he ceased to ask
+questions, and began to talk:
+
+"As I was coming along from Kilbarry to-day, I told Tim to stop
+opposite the Black Rock, and I and Mr. O'Hanlon, who was with me, got
+down and went out on it. I haven't been on it for I don't know how
+long. Horrible place! I suppose very few people go over from the
+village this time of year?"
+
+"Very few. Only for the good fishing there's off the tail of it, no
+one out of the village would ever go there. It's a cursed spot. I
+wonder you weren't afraid to go down, sir, at such a time of year. Ah,
+but when you were passing it was no more than about half flood.
+There's not so much danger at half flood as at full. Were you to the
+southward of the Hole, sir?" said one of the fishermen.
+
+"No. I took care of that. I may be a fool, but I'm not such a fool as
+that. I was curious to see the place because of the death of Mr.
+Davenport."
+
+"Ah, yes," said John Tobin. "He's gone."
+
+There was neither joy nor sorrow in Tobin's voice, and that tone
+expressed the general feeling of Kilcash towards the event. It was
+nothing to the village, neither good nor harm. He had been little more
+than a name to them.
+
+"Well, you all remember an unfortunate fellow named Fahey--Mike Fahey,
+wasn't it?--who went down the Hole of his own free will, or, rather,
+when he was chased by the police, ten or eleven years ago. Of course
+you all remember him?"
+
+"Oh, yes"--they all remembered him.
+
+"Well, the affair of Mr. Davenport's death put him in my mind, and I
+thought we'd go and look at the place where he took his awful leap. It
+nearly made me giddy to look down, and sick to think of his awful
+end."
+
+"And he wasn't in the wrong, after all!" said John Tobin. "Mr.
+Davenport, I will say, afterwards cleared the man's character. That
+was good of Mr. Davenport, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes," said O'Brien; "but why did he make away with himself? If a man
+knows he's innocent, he needn't run off and drown himself. He must
+have remembered Mr. Davenport gave him the money. Why didn't he trust
+Mr. Davenport to clear him?"
+
+The three men shook their heads.
+
+"That's what puzzles me," said O'Brien. "This unfortunate man was fond
+of fishing."
+
+"And little's the good he got by it," said one of the fishermen. "He
+had a miserable cockleshell of a punt, and it was the wonder of every
+one he wasn't drowned seven days in the week. Nothing would satisfy
+him but to keep dodging about that Black Rock in his tub of a punt,
+all by himself, and he not able to swim a stroke. If he hadn't gone
+down the Hole of his own will, he'd have been drowned by his own
+foolishness some day."
+
+"How used he to manage that boat? With a sail?"
+
+"Sail! No, sculls."
+
+"Did he pull well?"
+
+"Not particularly well. Well enough, though, for a raw-boned chap like
+him. Now that I remember it, I think he was pretty handy with the
+oars--for a spell, you know. He'd be dead beat in a jim-crack with a
+heavy oar in a yawl, but he could fiddle pretty fairly with the oars
+he carried."
+
+"Did you ever see him scull from the notch?"
+
+"Ay, I have, sir."
+
+"And was he handy from the notch, too?"
+
+"Yes, in a hop-o'-my-thumb cockleshell like his. Why, you could twist
+her round your finger in a mill-race. But as far as I can remember, he
+could handle an oar aft as well as most of those that weren't brought
+up to the work from boys."
+
+"And what happened to this miserable punt of his?"
+
+"Well, I don't think, sir, I can remember that. I know he lost it in
+some kind of way or other--west, I think he said. Anyway, whether he
+said so or not, it must have been west somewhere, for if anything
+happened to the punt on the east shore he'd never come back to tell
+what it was, for there isn't a landing-place there for anything from
+the sea but gulls and curlews; and even if he was the strongest
+swimmer in the barony his swimming would be no use to him, for he
+could never get into Kilcash Bay--never get round the head."
+
+"Although, as you say, the east is much more dangerous than the west,
+isn't it strange he should have lost his boat on the west side?"
+
+"Well, sir, it may and may not be strange. You see the western coast
+is more broken up, and there are more coves, and little bays, and
+little strands, and sharp rocks half covered, and so on, so that he
+might stave her in there, and yet manage to get ashore. I'm very sorry
+I can't remember what became of the punt."
+
+"Never mind," said O'Brien. "Now, do you know the exact rise and fall
+of a neap tide at the Black Rock?"
+
+"The exact rise and fall?"
+
+"Yes; the exact rise of a neap tide from dead low water to the top of
+high water."
+
+"I could not say to the inch, Mr. O'Brien."
+
+"Well, to the foot. I don't want it to the inch; the foot will do."
+
+The fisherman consulted his companion, who had not yet opened his
+mouth. After a muttered talk, the spokesman said:
+
+"We wouldn't say to a foot, sir, if anything of consequence depended
+upon it."
+
+"Fill up the measures again, John," said O'Brien, whose pint stood
+before him untasted. "There's no bet on it; you needn't be afraid. I'm
+only asking for information. I may be coming round here for the
+summer, and I just want to find out all I can. How much do you think?"
+
+"Fourteen to sixteen feet."
+
+"You don't think fifteen feet six would be far out?"
+
+"No, sir. That's as near as can be. But there's the wind to be taken
+into account when you come to inches."
+
+"How near were you ever to the Whale's Mouth--I mean, what was the
+nearest?"
+
+"As close as that," he answered, stretching out his hand at arm's
+length. He added significantly--"On the ebb."
+
+"How wide is the Mouth?"
+
+"I couldn't say exactly, sir. It's a place we're rather shy of, as you
+know. I dare say it's as big as this room."
+
+"You couldn't pull a yawl into it?"
+
+"God forbid!" said the man devoutly. "Two did go in, and one was
+swallowed up into the bowels of the land, and the other was broken
+into ten thousand splinters. Pull a yawl in there! I'd go to the
+Canary Islands for life first."
+
+"I don't mean to say _would_ you, but _could_ you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"For two reasons. In the first place, there isn't room for the yawl
+and the oars; and in the other place, I'd drop dead with the fright.
+Heaven be between us and all harm!"
+
+"Is the Mouth much too narrow to allow a yawl to pull in?"
+
+"Mr. O'Brien, I and every one in Kilcash have a great wish for you,
+sir; and if you're asking me these questions with the intention of
+going into the Whale's Mouth, I'll not answer another one."
+
+"Upon my word and honour, Phelan. I haven't the least intention of
+making away with myself, or with anybody else, by means of the Whale's
+Mouth. I am inquiring simply for information, and perhaps if I come
+here in the summer, I may ask you to take care of me while I am having
+a look for myself; but just at present I want you to give me the
+benefit of what you know. How much too small is it for a yawl to pull
+in?"
+
+"I couldn't say how many feet, but some feet."
+
+"Ten?"
+
+"Hardly so many as that, but thereabouts."
+
+O'Brien was silent for a while. He looked down at the table, and made
+some figures on it with his finger. The other men talked together. At
+last he looked up and said:
+
+"Tell me, Phelan, did you, in looking into the Whale's Mouth, notice
+whether it was straight, or inclined to the right or the left?"
+
+"It's quite straight, as far as you can see."
+
+"Are you quite sure of that?"
+
+"Certain."
+
+O'Brien then turned the conversation back into local channels again.
+Soon after he took his leave, having by some strange freak of
+preoccupation forgotten to drink his beer, although he had smoked his
+pipe like a man.
+
+It was pitch dark. There was not a star in the heavens; no lights in
+the village, save here and there the thin ray of a rushlight shining
+through the wet window of some cottage. No phosphorescent gleam came
+from the sea, but a mournful, ghostly sound of wailing, as its waves,
+reduced by their passage up the bay, broke in diminished force against
+the flat, uneventful sand. Here were none of the grand organ tones
+heard near the lonely Black Rock, with its deadly legends, hideous
+Hole, and irresistible monster.
+
+But O'Brien did not want to hear the sea now, either in its tame and
+civilised musing or in its insane roar when it flung itself unimpeded
+against the barriers of its dominions. He was thinking of the Black
+Rock, and of his sick friend, Alfred Paulton; and of O'Hanlon, and of
+the fate of Mike Fahey, and of Mr. Davenport, and of Tom Blake, and
+of--of Madge--his Madge, as he called her to himself, now that it was
+dark and no one was near. His Madge!
+
+All around him was dark, cold, vacuous; all within him was full of
+light and warmth, and rich with figures in motion. He could not keep
+his great company of players in order at first. They hustled and
+jostled one another in his mind--all except Madge--his Madge! She
+moved apart from all the others, and the moment she appeared all the
+others fled as though abashed before her unstudied perfections.
+
+Up to this he had never seriously concerned himself about anything. He
+had always been in fairly comfortable circumstances, although never
+rich. He had been brought up in the belief that he need never take
+much more trouble about the present or the future than an occasional
+glance at his salmon weirs on the river, and here he was now
+threatened with the loss of those weirs, which formed the backbone of
+his income--at a time, too, when this income meant the one thing he
+held dearest in the future--Madge! He had never been really in love
+before; there had been a few trifling affairs, but up to this he had
+never made up his mind to marry. That was the great test. Then look at
+the way he was mixed up in the Paulton and Davenport affair! Alfred,
+Madge's brother, succours Mrs. Davenport, and falls in love with the
+widow. He, Jerry O'Brien, causes a relapse in Alfred's case by some
+indiscreet words spoken by him of Mrs. Davenport. Then the Fishery
+Commissioners (whom may perdition lay hold of and keep for ever!) come
+howling to him about those weirs, and O'Hanlon tells him he must come
+over to Ireland post-haste, or he'll be picked dry as a bone by the
+Fishery Commissioners (whom may perdition--as before!); and no sooner
+does he set his foot in Kilbarry than O'Hanlon placidly confesses
+there is not so much need for haste for a day or two, or perhaps more,
+and that his (O'Hanlon's) real reason for sending for him was because
+of the ghost, or the ghost of a ghost, of one Mike Fahey, who had been
+connected with the Davenports ten or eleven years ago, and had jumped
+into the Hole in the Black Rock. A pretty complication, truly, for a
+man to get into in a fortnight or three weeks!
+
+A pretty complication to get into, no doubt; but how would it all end?
+Except for poor Alfred's illness and the Fishery Commissioners (whom--
+as before!), upon the whole he rather liked it.
+
+And now he must go back to O'Hanlon, who would think him lost.
+
+"I say, O'Hanlon," he said, cheerfully, as he got back to the
+coffee-room, "you've won that sovereign, not I."
+
+"Did you go?"
+
+"Yes. I went and ordered the beer; but, I'm blowed, I was so much
+amused that I came away and left it undrunk."
+
+"Amused! What in the name of all that is wonderful could amuse you at
+that wretched beer-shop?"
+
+"I was only picking up some facts about your old friend, Mike Fahey."
+
+"Well, has any one seen him?"
+
+"I met three men, and they had all seen him."
+
+"In the name of heaven, when?"
+
+"Ten or twelve years ago."
+
+"Oh!" groaned O'Hanlon. "And not since?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That's not much good for me, is it?"
+
+"Is it the fact that they have not seen the ghost which strikes you as
+being bad for you?"
+
+"Yes, O'Brien. You know something."
+
+"No, I do not; but I hope to know. I have learned something. But
+still--_wait_."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+                            ON THE CLIFF.
+
+
+Next morning O'Hanlon went back by himself to Kilbarry. Jerry O'Brien
+made up his mind to stay a few days at Kilcash. His last words to the
+perturbed attorney were encouraging, reassuring. He would divulge
+nothing, nor indicate the nature of his hopes; but he told O'Hanlon in
+a confident manner that he might dismiss all thought of his brain
+being affected. "I now," he said, "verily believe you saw a ghost, the
+ghost of Mike Fahey, on the Black Rock within the past month. Will
+that satisfy you?"
+
+O'Hanlon shook his head.
+
+"I'm in the old fix still. I don't believe in ghosts; neither do you,
+I am sure. You are saying this merely to quiet my fears."
+
+"You may trust me, I assure you. I am not saying anything out of a
+desire to quiet your fears. If I do not tell you all, I am prevented
+from doing so only by the want of conclusive evidence. I shall hang
+about here until some more evidence turns up. I really believe what
+you saw was no figment of your own brain."
+
+They parted thus. O'Hanlon was little satisfied, still he had no
+resource but to endure. His faith in O'Brien was great in everything
+save this one subject, which so unpleasantly and threateningly
+engrossed his thoughts. He was a man of sanguine temperament, and now
+the strength and impetuosity of his mind was turned inward and preyed
+on his peace.
+
+O'Brien had little or nothing to do. His curiosity was strongly
+excited. Owing to the uncertainty of the movements of the Fishery
+Commissioners he could not leave the country. His heart was in London;
+no hour went over his head that he did not think of his friends there.
+He wrote to Mr. Paulton, and to his great relief heard that Alfred was
+gradually recovering, and that Dr. Santley hoped to have his patient
+up and about in a short time, his youth and good constitution
+favouring rapid convalescence now that the acute stage of the disease
+was passed. All at Carlingford House were well, and joined in sending
+kindest regards to him, and hoped he would soon get rid of his
+troublesome business, and run back to them. There was a postscript to
+the effect that Dr. Santley had just that moment pronounced Alfred out
+of danger, and said that he hoped in a fortnight or three weeks the
+invalid would be able to seek change of air and scene--the two things
+which would then be sufficient to ensure his restoration.
+
+O'Brien, upon reading this, struck the table with his hand, and cried
+out:
+
+"Capital!--capital! Nothing could be better! This is the mildest
+climate in all Europe. He shall come here. I'll run over for him if
+all the Fishery Commissioners whom Satan can spare were to try and bar
+my way. The least I may do after causing that relapse is to nurse him
+for a while."
+
+O'Brien had little or nothing to do in Kilcash. No newspapers came to
+him from London or Dublin. After luncheon he walked every day along
+the downs as far as the Black Rock. There, when the weather was fine,
+he lounged for an hour or so, and then strolled back to the hotel,
+where he read some book until dinner.
+
+The "Strand Hotel" was of course deserted. He was the only guest, and
+the staff had been reduced to one maid-of-all-work.
+
+"If Alfred wants quiet," thought Jerry, grimly, "he can have it here
+with a vengeance. As long as those wretched Commissioners are about, I
+could not stand Kilbarry. I'd be an object of commiseration there, and
+I can't bear commiseration. If I only had Alfred here I'd be as happy
+as a king. But until he comes I must try and keep up an interest in
+O'Hanlon's ghost. I begin now to think O'Hanlon is going mad, after
+all; for I can neither hear nor see anything of the late Mr. Fahey. It
+wouldn't do to tell my misgivings to O'Hanlon. He really is cut up
+about that spectre, and the only way to keep his spirits up is by
+professing an unbounded belief in his phantom."
+
+No doubt Kilcash was dull, and would have been found intolerable by
+any one not used to such a place at such a time. But O'Brien had been
+brought up close to the sea, and its winter aspect was as familiar to
+him as its summer glories.
+
+In summer, the sun and the clouds and the genial warmth of the air
+take the mind off the sea, and reduce it to a mere accessory to the
+scene. It is only one of many things which claim attention. In winter
+the sea is absolute, dominant--master of the scene. In its presence
+there is nothing to take the mind away from it. The land and the air
+and the clouds have suffered change: the sea is alone immutable. It is
+not then the adjunct to a holiday. In winter and summer its colour is
+the result of reflection; but the dull, gloomy colours it reflects in
+winter seem more congenial to it than the vivid brightness of gayer
+skies.
+
+From his childhood O'Brien had been familiar with every phase of
+change that possesses the watery waste. There was for him no
+loneliness by the shore. He was no poet in the ordinary sense of the
+word. He had never tried to string rhymes together. He considered that
+a man who deliberately sat down to write verses which were not
+intended purely to bring in money must be in a bad state of health. He
+never concerned himself with elaborate analysis of his feelings, or
+moaned because the destinies had not ordained splendours for his
+career. He wished the Commissioners would let his weirs alone, so that
+he might marry Madge Paulton. He wanted to lead a quiet, unromantic
+life. He felt much more relief in abusing the Commissioners than he
+should feel in writing a mournful ditty against fate.
+
+But he was in love, and dwelling by the sea in winter. He had
+inadvertently caused his dearest friend a serious relapse in illness,
+and he was asked by another friend to help him over a horrible
+suspicion that this other friend had of his own sanity. Here surely
+was matter for abundance of thought. So that, on the whole, he had no
+moment of the day that was not filled with engrossing reflection of
+some kind or another.
+
+He answered Mr. Paulton's letter at once. He was overjoyed to hear the
+good news of Alfred, and he had made up his mind beyond any chance of
+alteration that the finest place in the world for Alfred would be the
+south of Ireland, and that there was no spot in the south of Ireland
+at all equal to Kilcash for any one who needed recruiting. Then he
+sent his very kindest regards to each member of the family by name,
+and tried to write "Miss Paulton" like the rest of the letter, but
+failed, so that it was the most ill-written part of all. He had little
+hope of Alfred's coming.
+
+To his astonishment he got a reply thanking him for his kind
+invitation, and saying that although Dr. Santley at first thought the
+south of Europe would be preferable, he had at length yielded to
+Alfred's earnest importunities to be sent to Ireland, where he could
+enjoy the society of his friend Jerry, which he was certain would tend
+more to his recovery than anything else in the world.
+
+"I am astonished," thought O'Brien, "that he did not insist on going
+abroad, if it was only for the chance of meeting that siren who has
+bewitched him. There is one thing plain from this--he has not only got
+over his dangerous physical illness, but that much more dangerous
+affection of the heart from which he has been suffering. What a
+madness that was! I hope and trust, for his sake, that woman has
+married Blake by this time. But no--I do not. That would be too bad a
+fate to wish even to an enemy; and surely she has never done me harm."
+
+O'Brien did not repeat his visit to the "Blue Anchor," but now and
+then he met burly Jim Phelan, the boatman, and talked to him about the
+Black Rock and the Whale's Mouth.
+
+For the first week O'Brien was at Kilcash the weather had been
+singularly calm. It had rained nearly every day; nothing else was to
+be expected there at that time of the year. But scarcely a breath of
+wind touched the sea. The long even rollers slid into the bay, and
+burst upon the sands in front of the village. They flung themselves
+wearily, carelessly against the cliffs without the bay, and after
+tossing their arms languidly a moment in the air, fell back exhausted
+into their foamy bed.
+
+One morning, as O'Brien was walking on the strand after breakfast, he
+met Jim Phelan, and, as usual, got into talk with him. After a few
+sentences of ordinary interest, Jim said:
+
+"The other night, sir, at the 'Blue Anchor,' you asked me a whole lot
+about the Black Rock and the Whale's Mouth. Did you ever see her
+spout?"
+
+"No," answered O'Brien, looking at the south-western region of the
+sky. "I have often been here, winter and summer, but I have never been
+so fortunate. Do you think there's going to be a gale?"
+
+"Yes, sir; there's going to be a heavy gale from the southward and
+westward, and it will be high water at about three. You can see the
+scuds flying aloft already, and I'm greatly mistaken if we haven't a
+whole gale before a couple of hours are over. That won't give much
+time for the sea to get up, but I am sure she'll spout to-day even
+before the top of high water. Anyway, if she doesn't, I'm greatly
+mistaken. Would you like to go over and see it, sir?"
+
+"Yes, Jim. I have nothing particular to do to-day, and I certainly
+should like to see it."
+
+"Very good, sir. I have nothing particular to do to-day either, and if
+you like I'll go over with you."
+
+"I should be very glad. When shall we start?"
+
+"Well, sir, if you are to see it you may as well be there at the
+beginning, so we'll be off at once. Did you feel that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+A puff of warm wind touched the two men, and then the air was still
+again.
+
+"Go on, then, sir, to the hotel and put on your oilskins. I'll run and
+get mine, and be back in a minute."
+
+"But I haven't got oilskins!" said O'Brien, with a smile. "Will a
+mackintosh and gaiters do?"
+
+The boatman looked long and fixedly into the south-west before he
+answered:
+
+"No, sir; a mackintosh would not be any use out there against what's
+coming. This will be a whole gale, or I'm a Dutchman. It's been
+brewing a long time, and we're going to have it now, and no mistake.
+I'll get you a set of oilskins, and maybe if you went up to the hotel
+and put your flask in your pocket, it wouldn't be out of the way
+by-and-by. I'll bring the oilskins up to the hotel."
+
+"All right," said O'Brien; and he set off.
+
+In less than half-an-hour he found himself in a clumsy, ill-fitting
+set of oilskins a size too big. Jim had brought a sou'-wester also. He
+himself wore his own oilskins and his sou'-wester, and, so equipped,
+the two set out for the Black Rock.
+
+As they reached the high ground of the downs, another gust of wind,
+stronger and of longer duration than the former one, struck them. Jim
+tied the strings of his sou'-wester under his chin, and O'Brien
+followed his example.
+
+"It will be a sneezer," said the boatman, shaking himself loose in his
+over-alls, as if getting ready for action.
+
+The sea was still unruffled. The two puffs of wind which had come as
+the advance guard of the storm had passed lightly and daintily over
+the sleeping ocean. The long clean-backed rollers swept slowly
+shoreward, staggering a little here and there when they passed over
+some sunken rock. Down in the south-west the sky was leaden-coloured,
+with long fangs of cloud stretching towards the land and gradually
+stealing upward and onward. An unnatural stillness filled the air. No
+wild bird of any kind was to be seen. The gulls had long ago sailed
+far inland. There were few sea birds here but gulls.
+
+"We'll be there before the first puff," said Phelan, buttoning the
+lowest button of his coat. "She hasn't spouted now since a little
+after Christmas. In that southerly gale we had then she spouted fine."
+
+"Did it come over the cliffs?"
+
+"No, sir--not quite up to the cliffs. 'Twas a southerly gale, you
+know; and it takes a south-westerly gale to send it over the cliffs.
+Ah, that was a stiffer squall than the last! It's coming on. Heaven
+help the ship that makes this a lee shore for the next twenty-four
+hours!"
+
+The prediction was verified, for a fierce gust had caught O'Brien in
+front and threatened to tear the strings out of his sou'-wester.
+
+The two men turn and resume their way. The torn skirts of the
+south-western pall of cloud are now almost overheard. They are
+hurrying on at a dizzy rate. Out far upon the water under the lowering
+cloud a dulness has crept. The great mirror of the sea has been
+breathed upon and sullied by the wind. In shore, the waves rise and
+fall tranquilly.
+
+The squalls now become frequent. Although the solid mass of the water
+beneath is still unchanged, when the gusts fly across the waves and
+strike the cliffs the foam is blown upward, hissing, and bursts into
+smoke against the crags. From under the broadening cloud a faint
+whispering sound comes, thin and shrill like a broadened whisper of
+the wind in grass.
+
+"Do you think the storm will last so long as twenty-four hours?"
+
+"Impossible to say, sir. But I think there's that much due to us. Turn
+your back to it, sir."
+
+They draw near the Black Rock. Each man keeps his body bent to
+windward ready to meet the next onslaught of the gale. Now only a few
+seconds pass between each gust. Each gust is stronger and longer than
+the former one. When they are within a few hundred yards of the rock,
+when they can plainly see the outline of the little bay in which it is
+wedged, the storm bursts fully upon them. One blast strikes them, and
+lasts a minute. They are obliged to stand still, leaning against the
+gale. A lull of a few seconds follows, and then the broad, mighty
+torrent of the wind bursts upon them in its uninterrupted fury, and
+for a while it seems as if they must be swept away by its persistent,
+tremendous force.
+
+At length they turn round, and, holding on their sou'-westers, gaze
+into the face of the wind. The sea is now boiling, churning, but not
+yet roused. Foam spurts aloft, where, before, the dull blue waters
+rose and fell unbroken. The spray crawls further and further upward
+against the red-brown cliffs. The roar and tumult of the wind is
+pressing against them. The roar and tumult of the waters have not yet
+begun.
+
+At that moment Phelan catches O'Brien by the arm, and points towards
+the Black Rock. The figure of a man is seen clearly against the
+sky-line. It gradually sinks from view. It is descending the path to
+the Black Rock below.
+
+"Let us run," shouts Phelan. "It is certain death if he goes down."
+
+They run at the top of their speed in their clumsy oilskins. They
+reach the cliff directly over the fatal rock. They look down, around,
+at one another. Both start back with cries of surprise and horror.
+
+No one is to be seen.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+                       THE MONSTER LET LOOSE.
+
+
+Neither man spoke. Phelan's amazement had bereft him of words. He knew
+the place thoroughly. He had known and feared it from his earliest
+years. To left and right were perpendicular cliffs. In front stretched
+the evil Black Rock. From where they stood descended the pathway to
+the table rock below. On the broken ground around them was nothing
+taller than dwarf bushes, which could not conceal a goat and to reach
+which the sure-footedness of a goat would have been needed. In his
+youth Phelan had been as bold as any lad in the village. But neither
+he nor any other lad of the village had ever dared to tempt death on
+those steep, friable, rotten slopes.
+
+Beyond all doubt he had seen the figure of a man disappear over this
+cliff a few moments ago. Where was he--it--now? The Black Rock lay
+bare, naked, at their feet. A man's head could not be hidden there.
+Whither had that figure gone? It could not have reached the sea in the
+time. The monster had not yet broken loose, and the man could not have
+been swept into the water. No shattered corpse lay on the greasy rock
+beneath. A man cannot fly. What had become of this man? Or had they
+seen a ghost?
+
+He turned to O'Brien and noticed that the latter looked pale and
+scared.
+
+"You saw him?" he shouted above the storm. "You saw him as plain as
+daylight?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What do you make of it?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Once more Phelan looked carefully around him. Absolutely no trace of
+man was to be seen. Except for their presence, the place might have
+been alone since the making of the world. He again turned to O'Brien.
+
+"Heaven be between us and all harm, but it must have been a ghost!"
+
+"He could not have got to the Hole in the time."
+
+"Not if he had wings."
+
+"Did you ever see Fahey? Of course you did. You told me about him."
+
+"Merciful Lord, it was Fahey!"
+
+The two men looked mutely into each other's faces. Anything like a
+regular conversation was now impossible owing to the force and noise
+of the storm.
+
+O'Brien had had a theory. The events of the last two minutes had
+shattered his theory to atoms. The two policemen who had seen Fahey
+jump into the Hole had not been mistaken. It was no ghost they saw.
+They had tracked their man as surely as they had ever tracked any one
+on whom they laid hands. He, being innocent, was suspected of a crime;
+or, rather, he had innocently, in ignorance, committed a criminal act,
+and being pursued and hard pressed, had flung himself headlong into
+that awful pit. Within a couple of weeks or so, O'Hanlon had seen that
+same figure in this place, and now he (O'Brien) had seen such a
+figure, and Phelan had identified it. This was monstrous. What came of
+all his inquiries respecting the Whalers Mouth and the accessibility
+of the cave? Nothing--absolutely nothing. His theory was childish. He
+was glad he had spoken of it to no man.
+
+What was to be his theory now?
+
+Phelan was stupefied, and stood staring at the cliffs and the rock as
+if he expected them to undergo some stupendous change, display some
+more incomprehensible marvel. O'Brien stood back a few paces from the
+brink, and kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, which had lowered and
+come nearer.
+
+Suddenly Phelan stepped back to O'Brien, and, putting his mouth close
+to the ear of the other, shouted--
+
+"She blows!"
+
+O'Brien dropped his eyes to the Black Rock.
+
+From the Hole a thin wreath of sea-smoke rose, and, bent sharply by
+the gale, almost touched the cliff. A booming, hollow sound, like the
+flapping of distant thunder among hills, weighed on the air, and then
+came a shrill, loud hiss, as of falling water, and again the wind was
+drenched in sea-smoke.
+
+Phelan stretched out his hands towards the Hole, and shouted--
+
+"Look!"
+
+The word was scarcely uttered when the ground shook, and from that
+Hole a solid column of water sprang aloft with a shriek that drowned
+the raging of the storm. It rose fifty feet into the air, turned
+inward towards the cliff, and then toppled and fell with a mighty
+crash that again made the gigantic bases of the immemorial cliffs
+tremble to their lowest depths.
+
+The monster had broken loose!
+
+O'Brien started back. He had from childhood heard of the awful Puffing
+Hole, but had never seen it in action before. His first feeling was
+that this could be no display of ordinary power, but that the cliffs
+and rocks were riven by some Titanic force never exercised before. He
+felt certain that when again he looked down he should see the Black
+Rock shattered, disintegrated, annihilated. What could withstand such
+a blow?
+
+The boatman drew him towards the edge of the cliff once more. He was
+scarcely in position when the huge shaft of water sprang once more
+into the air, this time to twice its former height. He was appalled,
+and again sprang back. The gale caught the capital of the column and
+lifted it bodily, dashing it against the cliff. O'Brien was covered
+from head to foot with water.
+
+The two men shifted their position, so as to get out of the reach of
+the water, and then stood mutely looking at the terrible phenomenon.
+
+When O'Brien's alarm subsided, and he knew by the conduct of his
+companion that there was no occasion for fear, he stood fascinated by
+the stupendous spectacle. He had heard this described hundreds of
+times, but his imagination had not had space for grandeur such as
+this. The Hole did not spout at every wave, but took breathing space
+like a living thing. Now he understood why the opening of the cave was
+called the Whale's Mouth. Now he understood why the people said "she
+spouts" when the Puffing Hole flung its hundreds of tons of water a
+hundred feet into the air. It was a daring fancy which saw in the
+strange freak of nature a colossal representation of the spouting of
+the whale. The Black Rock was the head, the cave the jaws, the shaft
+in the rock the blow-hole of a whale multiplied a thousand times.
+
+And he, presumptuous fool that he was, had imagined a boat might enter
+that cave and come out uninjured--that a man might throw himself into
+that awful funnel and survive!
+
+In half an hour O'Brien and Phelan left the edge of the cliff and
+turned their faces towards the village. Notwithstanding the oilskins,
+both were wet through, for the spray and fine mist from the sea
+penetrated at the neck, the wrists, and under the buttons in front.
+They kept more inland on their way back. Phelan was the first to speak
+of the mysterious figure they had seen. He had no difficulty in the
+matter. They had seen the ghost of Fahey, who had committed suicide
+there ten or eleven years ago. Nothing could be simpler or more
+natural than this explanation. It was a horribly wicked thing to
+commit suicide, but to throw one's self into the Puffing Hole was a
+double crime; for, in addition to making away with life, it was
+defying Providence--it was courting the most awful death that could be
+sought by man. The supernatural appearance that day was to be a
+warning to O'Brien, who had displayed an unwise curiosity as to the
+Puffing Hole and the Whale's Nose. From the nature of O'Brien's
+inquiries, it was, notwithstanding his denials, almost certain that he
+had formed a design of going in a boat up the cavern. The spirit of
+the dead man had been sent to show him the penalty of any such impious
+risking of life, and to remind him of the fate he would surely
+encounter if he dared to do anything so rash.
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+                          A NIGHT TRAVELLER
+
+
+When O'Brien got back to the "Strand Hotel" at Kilcash, he thought the
+whole matter over for an hour or so. Then he sat down and wrote a
+note:
+
+
+"My dear O'Hanlon,
+
+"Jim Phelan, the boatman, and I went to the Black Rock to-day to see
+the Puffing Hole spout. When within a few hundred yards of the cliff
+over the Rock, we both plainly saw the figure of a man, which Phelan
+declared to be Fahey's! Are you satisfied now? I am not. I'll run in
+to Kilbarry to-morrow.
+
+                             "Yours always,
+
+                                 "Jeremiah O'Brien."
+
+
+Then he ate his dinner, and went out to pay another visit to the "Blue
+Anchor."
+
+By this time Jim Phelan had told the story of that day's visit to the
+Black Rock to many of the villagers, and although the simple fisher
+folk as a rule retired very early during the long nights, most of them
+made an exception on this occasion. Many of the men and women sought
+neighbours' houses, and discussed the mysterious appearance of the
+form of Fahey hours after their usual time for going to bed.
+
+But Jim himself was not at any of these domestic gatherings. He was
+the hero of the hour, and the natural place for a hero was the taproom
+of the "Blue Anchor."
+
+There was a feeling among the men of Kilcash that no subject of prime
+importance to the village could be discussed anywhere else so well as
+in the taproom of the "Blue Anchor." Ordinary events of an ordinary
+day might be suited to the shelter of the Storm Wall on the shoreward
+face in a breeze or rain, or the rocks beneath the wall when the
+weather was fine. But neither of these, nor even the bar of the "Blue
+Anchor" itself, accorded with grave or exciting discourse of an
+exceptional nature. The taproom was the only place in which men could
+give unbridled license to debate. Here one could not only unbend, but
+give expression to the most audacious theories without danger of
+reproof or repression by wives or mothers.
+
+When O'Brien entered, a dozen men were crowded into the dimly-lighted,
+squalid room. As he had drawn near the house he heard voices raised in
+eager conversation. His entrance was the signal for silence. This was
+partly owing to his superior social position, and partly to the fact
+that his name had mingled freely in the talk for some time. He sat
+down, called for beer for himself and those around him, and lit a
+cigar. The storm was still blowing so strongly that he had found it
+impossible to smoke in the open air.
+
+Jim Phelan was there, and the men were all seated as close as the
+rickety benches would allow.
+
+"Well, men," said O'Brien, "I dare say I could guess what you were
+talking of. Did any of you ever hear of anything like it until
+now?--I mean, did any of you ever hear that the ghost of this man
+Fahey had been seen in the neighbourhood before?"
+
+Several men answered in the negative; the others shook their heads.
+
+O'Brien then rehearsed all he had gathered from Phelan of Fahey, and
+asked the others if they could add anything to the tale.
+
+At this they shook their heads also. He then inquired if among them
+they could find an explanation. But this produced no better result. He
+felt baffled, discouraged. He had not counted on learning much, but he
+had expected to gather something.
+
+After a stay of some time he left the "Blue Anchor" with nothing added
+to his store of facts or surmises. During the time he had sat there
+and smoked his cigar, he had heard much of what he knew repeated over
+and over again, with the wearying garrulity of those into whose lives
+few events of varied interest enter.
+
+The storm was raging still abroad, although the violence of the wind
+had considerably abated. The sky was now strewn with shattered, rugged
+clouds, wreckage of the gale. Here and there groups of pale stars
+shone out in the dull sky. The night was not dark. No moon shone, but
+a pale blue radiance filled the clefts and chasms between the clouds,
+and fringed their rugged edges with hues of dull steel.
+
+By this time the tide was falling. The sea, even in the bay, had been
+lashed into fury, and was breaking in sheets over the Storm Wall,
+under the partial shelter of which O'Brien walked towards the "Strand
+Hotel."
+
+He kept his head bent low, in order to avoid the flying spray. On his
+right was the Storm Wall, with the bay beyond. On the left the
+village, with its few scattered lights. Kilcash Bay made an irregular
+shallow bow on the innermost side, and along this bow from one end to
+the other of it the village was built. As became a house of such
+importance as the "Blue Anchor," it stood near the middle of the bow,
+not on the main road, but on a little narrow road running at right
+angles to the Storm Wall, and on which were very few houses. At the
+end of this by-road, and to the right facing the sea, lay the cottages
+of the village. These were owned chiefly by fishermen, and were let to
+visitors in the summer, while the families of the fishermen retired to
+some other shelter, situate visitors never knew exactly where. To the
+left stood the more ambitious half of the village. Here were the few
+shops and two-storey houses it contained. At the further end of this
+left-hand half stood the "Strand Hotel," the most imposing-looking
+house in the place, and the point towards which Jerry O'Brien was now
+making his way in the lee of the wave-beaten wall.
+
+O'Brien did not look at his watch before leaving the "Blue Anchor,"
+but he knew it was about nine o'clock. At such an hour, in such a
+season of the year, the village was usually plunged in darkness,
+except for the lights in the one hotel and the one public-house. The
+few shops were never in the winter open after seven, and not ten in a
+hundred of the inhabitants were out of bed at nine o'clock. But owing
+to the story which Jim Phelan had brought back from the downs that
+day, this was not considered an ordinary night, and there were more
+lights than usual twinkling in the houses still.
+
+But as O'Brien forged his way laboriously forward, under the
+protection afforded by the wall, he became aware that one of the shops
+was not only open, but doing business too, at this advanced hour of
+night.
+
+Between O'Brien and the shop were a broad road and a little
+garden--for all the houses and cottages, including those with shops,
+had gardens in front.
+
+O'Brien's mind was not busy at the moment, and out of idleness, rather
+than curiosity, he kept his eyes on the open door of the shop as he
+drew near and passed it.
+
+Before he had gone beyond the point at which he could command a view
+of it without turning his head back inconveniently, some one came out
+of the shop, the door closed, and all was dark.
+
+Here a severe gust of wind almost carried off O'Brien's hat, and he
+paused a moment to pull it down over his brows, and wait until the
+spray of a wave, which had just climbed the wall and sprung over it,
+fell on the road in front. Partly to shield his face from the wind,
+and partly out of a desire to try and make out what kind of being had
+the daring to come with custom to M'Grath's at such an unusual hour,
+he kept his face turned inland, and looked at the figure which had
+emerged from the shop. The form was that of a man--a man of the
+average, or perhaps slightly over the average height--bulky, or,
+rather, bulged--no, not bulky, but bulged--irregular--stooped, stooped
+as though he carried a bundle, or was very old, or was a hunchback.
+The man was going on at a quick pace in the direction of the hotel.
+
+"He can't be staying at the 'Strand,'" thought O'Brien. "I am the only
+visitor at the 'Strand.' And yet where can he be going? No person
+living in the village would dream of knocking up M'Grath at such an
+hour except in a matter of life and death, and M'Grath doesn't sell
+drugs."
+
+They were now getting near the end of the houses. The "Strand" was the
+last building in the village. The garden at its rear climbed partly up
+the slope of the downs. The nearest dwelling-place beyond the hotel
+was Kilcash House, the late Mr. Davenport's home. That house stood a
+mile back from the cliff, and the shortest line from it to the sea
+would bring one to the Black Rock.
+
+As O'Brien saw the man pass the last house of the terrace and approach
+the hotel, he watched no longer, but turned his eyes out for one last
+look at the sea, with the reflection, "There is nowhere else for him
+but the 'Strand'--unless," he thought, with a smile, "he is going to
+visit our old friend Fahey at the Black Rock. A nice quiet place to
+spend an evening like this would be the Puffing Hole."
+
+He shuddered. Even here, two miles away from it, and within a few
+yards of his comfortable room, with lamps and a fire, and absolute
+security from the sea, it was not possible to think of that awful Hole
+unmoved. Although the tide was receding, it was higher than when he
+and Jim Phelan had been at the Rock. The water had then been flung up
+a hundred feet into the air. Now, no doubt, it was mounting a hundred
+and fifty feet--ay, two hundred feet, in a solid, unbroken, bent
+column! What a hideous fate it would be to stand down on that fatal
+rock and, with the certainty of immediate destruction, watch that dire
+column mount up into the air! Ugh! It wasn't a thing to think of just
+now. He had had enough of the sea and storm for one day. He'd go in
+and turn up the lamps, and fit himself into an easy-chair in front of
+the fire, and mix a tumbler of punch and smoke a cigar, and forget all
+about the confounded sea, except that it was out here foaming and
+fuming away, wholly unable to get at him.
+
+He looked towards the hotel. The man who had come out of M'Grath's
+ought by this time to have got within its hospitable walls. No one was
+to be seen stirring near it.
+
+"Ah, as I thought!" mused O'Brien complaisantly. "But what can they
+have wanted from M'Grath's at the 'Strand' at this hour of the night?
+And now that I think of it, the whole male force attached to the house
+in any capacity consists of old Billy Coyne, the stable man, and
+myself. I've not been in M'Grath's buying things--that is, at least,
+not with my knowledge and consent. But then this is a queer place,
+where queer things happen now and then."
+
+He turned to cross the road, but was again brought to a standstill by
+a fierce gust of wind and dash of spray. While he was holding on his
+hat, his face was turned towards the pathway leading to the downs high
+above. He shook the spray off him, and was on the point of moving away
+when his eyes caught something moving upward and forward on that path.
+What the object was he could not determine, for the light was poor and
+uncertain, and the distance considerable. One moment he thought it was
+a pony; the next it seemed to resemble a human being. He stood still a
+minute or two, long enough to make sure he could not come to a
+conclusion, as the thing continued to recede and the light did not
+improve.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. The affair was not of the least moment to
+him. He crossed the road and entered the hotel. He was in the act of
+taking off his overcoat in the hall when he caught sight of old Billy
+Coyne, who in the winter acted as handy man about the place, and
+discharged now and then the functions of waiter and boots.
+
+"Who came in just now, Billy?" he asked.
+
+"Sorrow a soul, sir," answered the old man, helping O'Brien with the
+coat.
+
+"I mean, who was the man that came out of M'Grath's carrying a bundle
+on his back?"
+
+"Some one carrying a bundle on his back?" queried the man in
+respectful perplexity.
+
+"Yes," said O'Brien, sharply.
+
+He was annoyed at what he considered the stupidity of Coyne.
+
+"The yard door is locked this hour, and no one could come in that
+way. Ever since you went out, sir, I've been about here; and although
+the sea and the wind are high, I am used to them, and no one could,
+and no one did, come in. Nobody," added Coyne, emphatically, "crossed
+that threshold"--pointing to the front doorway--"since you went
+out, sir, until you yourself crossed it this minute. If you saw
+_anything_"--mysteriously--"for goodness sake don't say a word about
+it, or you'll have the missus and Mary in dread of their lives, if
+they don't die of the fright. Did you see _it_ come in?"
+
+O'Brien dropped his brows a little over his eyes, and looked at the
+man. Coyne did not seem as though he had been drinking or asleep.
+
+"Go and ask Mrs. Carey and Mary, and when you are coming back, bring
+me some whisky and hot water."
+
+When Coyne reappeared it was with the full assurance that neither Mrs.
+Carey, the landlady, nor Mary, the housemaid, had seen or heard any
+one enter the house between Jerry's leaving it and his return just
+now.
+
+What was Jerry to make of this? There was not the shadow of a doubt
+that a man had come out of M'Grath's with a bundle of some kind on his
+back. He had watched that man with a little curiosity until he was
+quite sure he had no other cover to go to but the hotel. Then came a
+time when his attention was taken off the figure and given to the sea.
+No man was to be seen when he turned round, but something was going up
+the path to the downs. That something must have been the man he had
+seen leave M'Grath's. Nothing could be plainer than that. But who in
+the name of all that was mysterious could think of knocking at
+M'Grath's, and then ascend the downs with a heavy bundle on such a
+night? There was no house for several miles in the direction taken by
+the man with the bundle except the residence of the late Mr.
+Davenport, and that was two miles off.
+
+Fahey, or----
+
+Nonsense! This rubbish about ghosts was unworthy of a moment's
+consideration. It was puerile, old-womanish, contemptible. Besides,
+ghosts did not, as far as he knew, knock up the proprietor of a
+general shop and buy or any way carry away heavy bundles on their
+backs. He must not waste time with such rubbish again.
+
+But what about Fahey? Fahey was more of a ghost than his own ghost.
+Either Fahey was dead or he was not. To jump into the Puffing Hole,
+was, every one said, certain death. Fahey had been seen to jump into
+the Puffing Hole--seen by two witnesses incapable of making a mistake
+in the matter. The word of one man in a case of this kind would be
+open to doubt, but two men said they saw Fahey jump into the Puffing
+Hole years ago. That very day he (O'Brien) had seen a figure which Jim
+Phelan recognised as that of Fahey, and that figure had vanished near
+the hideous caldron, but without having time to get near it, and in
+face of the fact that there was not another means of accounting for
+its disappearance.
+
+What on earth could he make of this? And now here was a mysterious
+figure getting a shop opened at night, and in the face of a fierce
+storm starting over the downs in the direction of the Black Rock.
+
+But the whole thing wasn't worth thinking of. What was it to him if
+Fahey's ghost were fictitious or real, or if Fahey were alive or dead?
+He'd put the whole thing from him, and think of where exactly he
+should build that house for Madge.
+
+Next morning, before starting for Kilbarry, he took a stroll and
+turned into M'Grath's shop to buy a strap for his rugs. They sold
+everything at M'Grath's--twine, and candles, and bread, and gunpowder,
+and kettles, and vinegar, and calico, and tea, and butter, and
+sweetmeats, and fishing-hooks, and hoops, and wooden spades, and white
+lead, and garden seeds, and flowers of sulphur, and dried haddock, and
+camp-stools, and crockery-ware, and pious pictures, and wall-hooks,
+and penny bugles, and cod-liver oil, and bran, and a thousand other
+things--to make a list of which would puzzle the most experienced
+auctioneer or valuer.
+
+"You had a late customer last night," said O'Brien, when he had
+selected the strap.
+
+"Yes, sir. He came to buy a few articles he wanted. He said that in my
+father's time he often bought things in this shop, and that as he was
+passing through the village late he wanted to see this place again for
+the sake of old times."
+
+"How long is it since he was here, did he say?"
+
+"Thirty-seven years since he saw Kilcash."
+
+"Then he is not young."
+
+"Bless you, no, Mr. O'Brien! He's seventy-five, and with a bad cough
+too; and to think of him walking a night like last night from this to
+Kilbarry, with such a load too!"
+
+"Seventy-five--seventy-five!" muttered Jerry. "That's no good."
+
+"Ay, seventy-five, and looked every day of it. I don't think the poor
+fellow is long for this world."
+
+O'Brien left. A man of seventy-five did not, he thought, bear much on
+the case. The years were thirty or thirty-five too many.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+                            DULWICH AGAIN.
+
+
+When Jerry O'Brien reached Kilbarry that afternoon, he drove straight
+to O'Hanlon's office, and briefly recounted to the astonished
+solicitor what he and Jim Phelan had seen at the Black Rock the day
+before. O'Hanlon was for a few moments speechless with amazement. When
+his amazement wore off a little, he found himself bound in on all
+sides with perplexities. He told himself a hundred times that here was
+evidence enough to satisfy the most sceptical of judges and juries;
+and yet he, a mere solicitor, could not make up his mind to believe.
+O'Brien, Phelan, and himself had seen something they would swear was
+the figure of a man, and Phelan and himself would swear that what they
+had seen was in the likeness of that Mike Fahey who had committed
+suicide years ago by throwing himself into the Puffing Hole while, in
+respect of a groundless charge, pursued by the police. It was
+distracting--it was incredible; but it must be believed.
+
+He remembered when he was told at school that if a penny had been put
+out at five per cent, compound interest in the year 1 A.D., it would
+then equal in value a mass of gold containing a globe as big as the
+earth for every second of time since the beginning of the Christian
+era. At first he had said this astounding statement was not true, but
+when it was plainly demonstrated that it was even a ridiculous
+understatement, he did not say it was not true, but he could not
+believe it, although the figures were irrefutable.
+
+This history of the reappearance of Fahey, or some shade or likeness
+of him, was now above question. It stood on as firm a basis as
+testimony could desire, and yet it was naught to him but myth. Many of
+the greatest truths are unbelievable. This was a little truth, but in
+its integrity was impenetrable.
+
+The one great consolation was that he, O'Hanlon, need no longer fear
+his brain was playing him false.
+
+Like O'Brien, he came to the conclusion that impossible ghost or still
+more impossible man, the affair was none of his. He wasn't going mad;
+that was the great thing.
+
+That day the two friends chatted the matter over while they sat before
+O'Hanlon's fire after dinner, and they both agreed that they would
+then and there say good-bye to Mr. Michael Fahey, whether he was
+matter or spirit.
+
+The solicitor had no more certain news of the beastly Fishery
+Commissioners. They were still hovering about the neighbourhood; but
+no one alive, themselves included, could tell what they were going to
+do, or were not going to do, but they were still deucedly hard on
+weirs. And--no; it would not be at all safe for Jerry to go to
+London--just at present.
+
+The two friends separated early, Jerry going back to "The Munster." He
+had no desire for a further time in Kilcash. Alfred Paulton would be
+soon fit to travel, and then once more he should go back to the
+village; but he now had business to watch in Kilbarry. Certificates,
+and memorials, and declarations, and so on, had to be obtained or
+attended to, and although O'Hanlon did all the business in connection
+with the weirs and the Commissioners, both men deemed Jerry's presence
+advisable. He was extremely popular in the town, and the request of a
+principal is always more efficacious than that of an agent.
+
+He had been only a few days at "The Munster," when a letter put into
+his hand one morning caused him an agreeable surprise. The envelope
+bore the London postmark, and the superscription, shaky though it
+happened to be, was unmistakably in the handwriting of Alfred himself.
+
+Jerry broke the cover hastily, and read the brief pencil note with
+pleasure, until he came to the last two sentences--"I do not know
+where _she_ is. They will not tell me anything about her."
+
+"Not cured, by Jove!" said Jerry to himself, with disappointment. "One
+would think his illness and relapse would have put some sense into his
+head, or knocked some nonsense out of it. But, after all, what is
+there wrong in it? Why shouldn't he fall in love with whom he likes?
+She is older than he, and I am sure she would not marry him, even if a
+sleepy Government would only have the good sense and good taste to
+hang Blake instead of worrying honest folk about weirs and other
+things. Alfred is the best fellow in the world. Who could associate
+with Madge and not be good--except, of course, myself? But Alfred is
+dull; there's no denying that. He's more than a trifle mutton-headed.
+Madge has all the brains of the family, and the best heart, too, only
+she's going to throw that away. Is she? Wait till you see, Madge. My
+darling!"
+
+He crooked his arm and held it out from him, and looked at the sleeve
+of his coat tenderly, as though a head rested there.
+
+"I'll spoil you with love when I get you. Spoil you with love! No
+woman ever yet was spoiled with love. It's the flattery and
+foolishness which spring from a desire to win a woman any way, no
+matter how, so long as you win, that spoil women. I'd like to see a
+Fishery Commissioner spooning. By Jove, it would be a fine thing if a
+fellow had a sister a Commissioner was spooning! First you could get
+him to allow you to do anything you liked, and the moment he turned
+crusty, you would only have to ask your sister to poison him. I'm
+sorry I haven't a sister. But, stay, I will have one soon. Edith
+_must_ marry a Commissioner. When Madge and I are settled, I will ask
+Edith to stay with us, and fill the house from garret to basement with
+Commissioners. (I wonder how many of the beasts there are?) But I must
+not say anything to Madge about this scheme until we are married. If I
+mentioned it now she might object to the poison--there is no depending
+on women, until they are married. But once a woman is married you may
+count on her for anything. Look at Lady Macbeth! What a wife she was
+to have at a fellow's elbow! Why, she wasn't merely a wife--she was a
+spouse. What the difference is I don't know; but I'm sure she was a
+spouse more than a wife--just as an awful father or mother is a
+parent. But what is it I was thinking of?"
+
+Jerry could be cool and collected and coherent when he liked, but he
+did not like it now.
+
+Days passed by uneventfully with Jerry at Kilbarry. He answered
+Alfred's letter, but made no reference to Mrs. Davenport. He thought
+it safer not. He was quite sure neither Mr. nor Mrs. Paulton would
+look with favour on their son taking a continued interest in the
+widow. To him there was something grotesque in Alfred falling in love
+with a widow. Beyond doubt Alfred was in love with this strange and
+beautiful woman. Jerry did not wonder at his young friend's
+enthusiasm. He would have been a cold-blooded man under thirty who
+could see her without feeling profound admiration. But Alfred would
+have to get over this infatuation. It could never come to anything. Of
+course time would cure him. Up to this, time had apparently been
+losing its opportunity. When a man is in love with the sister of a
+friend, it makes matters pleasanter if the girl's brother is involved
+in a similar enterprise. But Jerry would rather forego such an
+advantage in his case than that matters should become serious between
+Alfred and the beautiful widow.
+
+Daily Jerry saw O'Hanlon, and daily urged upon him the desirability of
+despatch. So importunate was the younger man, that his friend and
+adviser at length became suspicious and finally certain of the cause
+from which Jerry's anxiety for haste sprang. "When the weirs are out
+of danger," said the solicitor, "I know the next job you'll give me to
+do."
+
+"What is it?" said Jerry, colouring slightly, and looking his
+companion defiantly in the face.
+
+"A settlement--a settlement! A marriage settlement, I mean!"--with a
+wink.
+
+"Don't be a fool, O'Hanlon. I wish you'd get a settlement about the
+weirs."
+
+At length the day came on which Jerry set out for London for the
+purpose of bringing over his friend for change of air and scene. In
+two senses of the phrase, the weirs were still where they had been
+five weeks ago. One of these senses was satisfactory: the weirs
+had not been pulled down by the ruthless Commissioners. The other
+sense was discouraging: the Commissioners had not yet done with the
+weirs, and the weirs were still in danger of being pulled down,
+as engines which obstructed the free navigation of the river Bawn.
+Notwithstanding this, Jerry made the journey in the best of humours,
+and having arrived without adventure or accident at Euston, drove to
+his old lodgings and renewed his acquaintance with the civil landlady
+and the odious table-cover.
+
+His first call next morning was at Dulwich. He had not written to say
+the hour at which he would reach Carlingford House, and when he
+arrived and asked the servants after each member of the family, he
+found they were all out with the exception of the invalid. At first
+this rather chilled Jerry, but upon a moment's consideration he
+thought that after all it was best Alfred and he should have a few
+moments together alone. There was no reason, as far as he knew, for
+precautions of any kind; but Alfred might be excitable, and it was
+desirable that Mrs. Davenport's name should occur but sparingly, or
+not at all.
+
+He was shown into a little back drawing-room, where he found Alfred
+sitting in an easy-chair at the window. Alfred rose with eager
+alacrity. The two friends held one another by the hand for some time
+in silence. Then Jerry spoke and thanked heaven Alfred looked so well,
+quite well, better than ever he had seen him before--thinner no doubt,
+but better. "Why, you have got a colour like a bashful girl in a
+little fix!"
+
+"I--I have just heard surprising news."
+
+"What is it?" asked Jerry, looking keenly at his friend.
+
+"First, tell me when are we to go to Ireland--to Kilcash?"
+
+"Whenever you like, my dearest Alfred."
+
+"But how soon?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Whenever you like, my dear boy, I am at your disposal. But do not run
+any risk--do not hasten away for my sake."
+
+Jerry was thinking of how little it would cost him in the way of
+self-denial if he were obliged to pass a month under this roof.
+
+"But will you hurry away for _mine?_"
+
+"For _yours_, my dear Alfred! Of course I'll do anything you wish. But
+how hurry away for _yours?_"
+
+"Then we can start to-morrow for Kilcash?"
+
+"_To-morrow!_ Why, what's the matter, Alfred?"
+
+"Ah, I know it is too late for to-day. But to-morrow we set out for
+Kilcash."
+
+"If you wish it. But why this excitement? It's the dullest place in
+the world."
+
+"Dull--dull! Why, she's there by this time!"
+
+"_Who, in the name of mercy?_"
+
+"Mrs. Davenport."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXX.
+
+                           ANOTHER VISITOR.
+
+
+O'Brien was struck dumb. "Mrs. Davenport," he thought, in a dazed,
+unbelieving way--"Mrs. Davenport at Kilcash! It can't be possible.
+There is some mistake." Here was a complication on which he had never
+counted--which it would have been idle to anticipate. The position in
+which he found himself was perplexing, absurd. It was useless to hope
+any longer that Alfred was not desperately in love with this woman,
+who had recently been the central figure in a most notorious and
+unpleasant inquiry. Alfred had seen her only a few times, and could
+not have exchanged a word with her since that awful night. It was
+absurd.
+
+"Mrs. Davenport," said Jerry, slowly, "had, I thought, gone away by
+this time. How do you know she is in Ireland, or on her way there? Who
+told you?"
+
+Alfred smiled and sat down.
+
+"A friend found it out for me. She did go to France for a week, but
+she came back the day before yesterday, and is in Ireland now. I am
+most anxious to see her again. Poor woman!--she must have suffered
+horribly."
+
+He had observed a look of anxiety, if not disapproval, on Jerry's
+face, and tried to make it seem as though he took no more than a
+friendly interest in the widow.
+
+"Alfred," said Jerry, slowly and seriously, "it won't do. I can see
+you are hard hit."
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Alfred, gaily.
+
+Jerry directed the conversation far afield from the subject to which
+Alfred would willingly have confined it.
+
+But Alfred was not to be baffled or denied. The moment a pause
+occurred he broke in with:
+
+"Jerry, you have not told me yet whether we shall start for Ireland
+tomorrow or not?"
+
+"Alfred, have you ever been in love?"
+
+"Never!"--with a laugh, a slight increase of colour, and a dull, dim
+kind of pride in some feeling he had, he knew not what--a feeling of
+comfort and exaltation.
+
+"Because, you know, it's an awfully stupid and miserable feeling. It's
+not good enough to cry over or to curse over. Sighing is despicable."
+
+"How on earth do you know anything about it, Jerry? I thought you were
+a woman-hater."
+
+"Ay," said Jerry, vaguely. "Do you know of all people in the world
+whom I should most like to be?"
+
+"No."
+
+"One of Shakespeare's clowns. What digestions these clowns had! They
+are the only perfect all-round men I know. Mind you, they are no more
+fools than they choose to be. If they pleased, they could all be Chief
+Justices, or Archbishops, or Fishery Commissioners, or anything else
+fearfully intellectual they liked; but they preferred to be clowns,
+and kept their superb digestions, and made jokes at lovers and
+such-like human rubbish. Motley's the only wear."
+
+"What on earth is the matter with you, Jerry? I never knew until
+now that you had a leaning towards poetry!" Alfred was gratified
+to find O'Brien thus bordering on the sentimental. He would have
+embraced with delight any chance of breaking into the most extravagant
+sentimentality himself. To think of O'Brien countenancing sentiment
+was too delicious. He added: "I don't know much about Shakespeare;
+but, for my part, I think his fools are awful fools."
+
+"Why, Alfred--why?"
+
+"Because they are so desperately wise."
+
+"Ay," said O'Brien, in a still more desponding tone. "A fool must be a
+fool indeed when he chooses to be wise.
+
+
+     "'Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
+       O any thing, of nothing first create!
+       O heavy lightness!--serious vanity!
+       Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
+       Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
+       Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
+       This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
+       Dost thou not laugh?'"
+
+
+"No," answered Alfred: "I don't see anything to laugh at. That seems a
+very wise speech. Is it spoken by a fool?"
+
+"By an amateur fool, and a bad amateur fool, too. It is one of the
+silliest speeches in all Shakespeare. Whenever Shakespeare wanted to
+have a little sneer up his sleeve, and to his own self, he put the
+thing in rhyming couplets. Nearly all his rhyming couplets are jokes
+for his own delight, and for the vexation and contempt of all other
+men. Shakespeare did penance for his sins in his puns, and revenged
+his injuries on mankind in his rhyming couplets.... That's your
+mother's voice."
+
+"Yes," said Alfred, going to the door and opening it, "that's my
+mother and the girls. Come here, mother; here's Jerry O'Brien."
+
+"Your mother and _my_ girl," said Jerry, down low in his heart.
+"'Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is.' Romeo is the most
+contemptible figure in all history, and Juliet the most adorable."
+Aloud he said at that moment: "And you, Miss Paulton--how are you?"
+
+"Quite well, thank you."
+
+"What a low blackguard," he thought, "Shakespeare was to kill Juliet!
+But he killed Romeo, too, and that may have justified him in the eyes
+of heaven. I'd forgive him even his rhyming couplets if he'd only turn
+his tragic attention to those accursed Commissioners. Just fancy a lot
+of apoplectic fools, bursting, so to speak, with the want of knowledge
+of anything, and standing between that darling and me! May the
+maledictions of----" To Madge he said aloud, in answer to her
+question: "Yes, I had a very good passage across--not a ripple on the
+water. You have never been across?"
+
+"No, never. I should very much like to go," she said, as she sat down
+on a chair, adjusted her mantle, and looked up in his face.
+
+"Oh, you ought to go over," he said; "the scenery is romantic."
+
+He thought "romantic" might be too strong for Mrs. Paulton, so he
+added hastily:
+
+"And the garden produce--owing," he added, in explanation, "to the
+humidity of the climate."
+
+He felt rather foolish, and that he had been saying very foolish
+things. But then he didn't care. He did not want to shine before her:
+she was the beacon of his hope.
+
+"Perhaps," she said, looking up, "father might take us over next
+summer, or the summer after."
+
+She looked up in his face again. It was desperately provoking.
+
+"Or the summer after," thought Jerry, with a pang. "Does that girl
+sitting there, three feet away from me, and who doesn't think I care
+for her a bit, imagine for a moment that I am going to let her wander
+about all the earth with that respectable old gentleman, her father,
+till the crack of doom? Nonsense! She isn't a bit good-looking," he
+thought, looking down into her eyes, and when she lowered her eyes,
+gazing devoutly at her hat--"she isn't a bit good-looking--not half as
+good-looking as Edith, and Edith is no beauty. But still, I think, I'd
+feel excellently comfortable if the others would go away, and I might
+put my arm round her and try to persuade her that she was happy
+because I did so."
+
+"You find Alfred almost quite well again?" asked Mrs. Paulton genially
+of Jerry.
+
+"Oh, yes. He is almost as well as ever, and of course will be better
+than ever in a little while."
+
+"A few whiffs of sea air will put me on my legs once more," said
+Alfred, with abounding cheerfulness. "I feel as if the very look of
+the sea would set me all right."
+
+"You unfortunate devil!" thought Jerry. "Are you so bad as that? Oh,
+for the mind of one of those plaguey clowns! Falstaff was the only man
+who ever enjoyed life thoroughly--Falstaff and Raffaelle. What was the
+burden of flesh carried by Falstaff compared to this 'feather of
+lead!' What were all the jealousies which surrounded Raffaelle's
+career compared to my jealousy of the hat that touches her hair, or
+the glove that touches her cheek!"
+
+"You will of course stay with us while you are in London," said Mrs.
+Paulton. "I told Alfred to be sure to say that we insisted upon your
+doing so, and the silly boy forgot it."
+
+"Oh, he'll stay, mother," answered Alfred. "He'll stay with us while
+he's in London."
+
+The invalid gave a glance at Jerry. The latter understood it to be an
+appeal for a very brief respite indeed from travelling. Jerry was in
+no small difficulty as to what he should say or how he should act. He
+would like to stop at Carlingford House a month, a year. Even a month
+was out of the question. But it was too bad that Alfred should be in
+such a violent hurry to go away. He believed Madge's brother had no
+suspicion that Madge was particularly dear to him. Still, common
+hospitality would scarcely allow a man to hurry a guest away from
+under his own roof after twenty-four hours' stay, particularly when
+that friend had come several hundred miles to do his host a good turn.
+No, hospitality would not allow a man to do it, but love would. He,
+Jerry, could not plead fatigue. That would be grotesque in a healthy
+young man. He would not lie and say he had business in London which
+would keep him a few days there, and yet it was shameful and
+ridiculous that after a whole month of separation he should be obliged
+to fly from her almost before he had time to get accustomed to the
+music of her voice. What delicious music it did make in his hungry
+ears! He would ask Alfred, without any explanation, if the day after
+to-morrow would not suit him quite as well as tomorrow.
+
+He made a sign to Alfred, and the two young men passed through the
+folding doors into the front drawing-room. Here a bright fire burned.
+Alfred went to the fire--Jerry to the window. The latter looked out,
+started, and said slowly:
+
+"Alfred, there's a visitor coming up the garden."
+
+"All right," said Alfred without interest.
+
+"And it's a woman."
+
+"All right."
+
+"And it's Mrs. Davenport."
+
+"What!"
+
+In a second Alfred was by Jerry's side.
+
+Jerry laughed softly.
+
+"All right?" he repeated in an interrogative voice.
+
+Alfred's face blazed, but he did not speak or move.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+                   "I HAVE BEEN ALWAYS ALONE."
+
+
+Mrs. Davenport knocked at the front door, and was shown into the back
+drawing-room, where the ladies were sitting.
+
+"I have come, Mrs. Paulton," she said, "to thank you and Mr. Paulton
+and your family for the great kindness you showed me in my trouble. I
+am afraid that at the time I was too intent on my own misfortunes to
+say as fully as I ought what I should have felt. Indeed, to be quite
+candid, I do not know exactly what I said to you or your husband, or
+exactly how I felt."
+
+Mrs. Paulton went over to her, and took the hand of the widow. O'Brien
+and Paulton could hear and see everything going on in the back
+drawing-room, as they approached the folding-doors slowly.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Davenport," said Mrs. Paulton gently, as she pressed the
+visitor's hand, "you must not think of the matter. We were, and are,
+deeply sorry for you, and our only feeling in the matter was one of
+regret at not having had an opportunity of being more useful."
+
+This was true now. Both William Paulton and his wife were by the
+inquest perfectly satisfied Mrs. Davenport had for a while suffered
+from ugly suspicions because a crazy old husband had made away with
+his life in a perfectly mad manner, and without being in the least
+induced to the act by any fault of his wife. Every one agreed with the
+jury that it had been a case of suicide while suffering from temporary
+insanity.
+
+Another thing greatly helped Mrs. Davenport into the good graces of
+the Paultons. After Blake's release he stayed in London, although Mrs.
+Davenport was away in France. Since the trial young Pringle had kept
+Alfred informed on all matters connected with the widow.
+
+Both Mr. and Mrs. Paulton now felt as though they had done an absolute
+wrong to this woman, and Mrs. Paulton knew that her husband would be
+delighted to show her any civility or kindness he could. The husband
+and wife were, as their son had said, two of the kindest and most
+generous people in England.
+
+Alfred and Jerry entered the back room. She held out her hand to the
+former, and thanked him for what he had done. She gave her hand to
+Jerry, and said, with a wan smile:
+
+"I owe you an apology, Mr. O'Brien, for my rudeness to you when last
+we met."
+
+"Rudeness! Mrs. Davenport!--your rudeness to me! I am shocked to hear
+you say such a thing. I am shocked to think you should have for a
+moment rested under so unpleasant an idea. Believe me, you were never
+anything but most polite and considerate to me."
+
+Madge admired this speech of Jerry's, for it seemed to her very
+generous. She did not greatly admire Mrs. Davenport. She thought her
+too grand and cold and reserved. But she did not go as far as Edith,
+who positively disliked their visitor.
+
+"I am quite clear as to my bad conduct," insisted Mrs. Davenport, with
+her wan smile. "When I met you in this house the day after the--the
+dreadful event, I did not speak to you, although I recognised you
+instantly."
+
+"But, Mrs. Davenport, you don't for a moment imagine I did not realise
+how terribly you were tried just then?"
+
+"It is very good of you to make such liberal allowances for my
+conduct, but I fear I did not deserve your generosity; and I am more
+than afraid, if you knew exactly how I felt, you would not be able to
+forgive me so readily. I suppose it was owing to the state of
+excitement I was in at the time that the moment I set eyes on you, Mr.
+O'Brien, I looked upon you as an enemy."
+
+"An enemy--an enemy!" cried Jerry, in surprise and confusion. "What
+could have put such a notion into your mind?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know," she answered, shaking her head slowly. "I
+experienced nothing but the greatest consideration from you and every
+one else here. I have since learned that I owe my introduction to Mr.
+Pringle to you--to you and Mr. Paulton," she added, looking gratefully
+at the young man.
+
+Alfred coloured with delight and embarrassment. To see and hear her
+was delight enough to outweigh all the troubles he had yet known; but
+to feel that her voice and eyes were thanking and praising him was
+intoxicating.
+
+She was dressed in complete widow's weeds. Her face was pale, placid,
+unwrinkled. Her dark eyebrows, dark eyes and lashes, and full red
+mouth afforded the only breaks in colour. All the rest was pale,
+delicate olive. The head had still the grand imperial carriage, the
+eye the same unflinching, haughty fearlessness. The full, red lips met
+closely, readily, at the clear, curved line, and parted easily,
+readily. Only hints of the superlative graces of the figure came
+through her heavy mantle. The hands lay clasped in suppliant ease in
+the lap. Now that she was free from commanding excitement, her voice
+drew attention to itself. The face and head, and the carriage and pose
+of the head, were full of authority and command; the figure full of
+feminine yielding gentleness. Now that the voice was unburdened by
+heavy emotions, it partook at one time of the nature of the head; at
+another of the nature of the figure. In giving thanks to Mrs. Paulton,
+it was slow, stately, gravely harmonious; in confessing her want of
+generosity to Jerry, it was low, soft, full, intensely sympathetic.
+
+Her words had taken O'Brien quite aback. Was it divination, instinct,
+that told her he had been friendly only in externals, and that he owed
+her no particular goodwill? Or was it that she did not at the time of
+the fatal occurrence wish any one to be near who knew much of her
+former life? Could it be that if he had been absent from the inquest
+some of the unpleasant events preceding her marriage would not have
+been so nakedly exposed by either her or Blake? Who could tell? Not
+he, certainly.
+
+He looked from Mrs. Davenport to Alfred, and mentally pitied him.
+
+"I cannot wonder," he thought, "at his falling in love with her. If I
+were in his shoes, I don't know what might happen to me. Fortunately I
+am safe."
+
+He glanced gratefully at Madge.
+
+She could not understand exactly what he meant by his eyes; but she
+knew they were not eyes of disapproval or dislike, and so she looked
+down because she would have liked to look up.
+
+A general and desultory talk was going on. Alfred felt quite well
+already. Notwithstanding his feeble state, he felt the strength of ten
+men against all the world. He felt towards her a worshipful tenderness
+he could not describe--did not want to describe, only wanted to enjoy.
+When one is sailing in the sun over a summer bay, who wants to analyse
+the light, and hear of the solar spectrum? When one is at the opera,
+who cares about the number of vibrations it takes to produce a certain
+note? When one is in love, who cares to analyse the charm? Delight is
+not so plentiful in the world that we need pick it to pieces. Alfred
+would not try to find out why he was supremely happy in her presence.
+His happiness was enough for him. Others might say what they pleased
+of her. All he would say was "Let me be near her."
+
+Of the two friends, O'Brien was the more robust by far. His nature was
+sturdy, almost aggressive. He had a hatred of what he called
+"tinkering his opinions." He could be as straightforward and downright
+as any other man alive. He could stick to his opinions, and had a
+contempt for consequences. In manner he was a trifle arrogant. It was
+this feeling of independence and self-assertion which made him feel
+but slightly attracted towards Mrs. Davenport, and which often
+repelled him from her.
+
+"If she were my wife," he thought, "there would be two masters in the
+house, and it would end in my throwing her out of a window--an act
+which would no doubt import unpleasantness into our household. And yet
+if she thought well of wheedling me, she could. A man could never be
+her husband. Davenport was her owner. If ever she marries again, it
+will be a master or a slave. Poor Alfred would make a fine master for
+such an Amazon! But it's downright brutal of me to call her an Amazon.
+After all, it would be a very terrible thing to be loved by that
+woman. I think if I were married to her, I'd rather she hated me and
+mastered me, always provided it was not I who went through that
+window. When you find yourself continually thinking of a woman you are
+not in love with, it's a bad sign of the woman, as a rule."
+
+Alfred had been of service to her--service however slight--on the
+evening of that terrible catastrophe. He had seen her aidless, alone,
+helpless, dismayed. Her voice that night struck the keynote of the
+music she had awakened in his heart. To those who did not know her
+well--to those who had not seen her in difficulty and despair, her
+outward seeming might be one of command and victory. But he had found
+her distracted with horror, had lent her aid, and seen her relieved by
+his own act. He had, in however humble a way, played the part of
+protector. He had seen the feminine, the dependant side of her nature
+revealed. She might be stately, commanding, self-sufficient, imperious
+to others. To him she would always be the woman who once leaned upon
+his manhood. Her beauty, her grace, her commanding stateliness might
+draw other admirers to her side; to him the child-like helplessness of
+her womanhood lent the charm which could never die or fade away, and
+brought him more close to her heart than if he had sat and worshipped
+at her feet for years. He had been the donor of little in her
+distress; he would be the donor of all he had or could command in the
+world for her protection and peace.
+
+While the ladies and the two young men were chatting soberly together,
+Mr. Paulton came in. He was unfeignedly delighted to see Mrs.
+Davenport. He had never been easy in his mind since that day she left
+his roof in the depth of her misery. Although she had gone away of her
+own free will and of her own independent initiative, he was unable to
+rid himself of the feeling that he expelled this woman from his roof
+when she most needed friendship and protection. She had come out of
+the ordeal of the trial purified, if purification were necessary; and
+public opinion, of which he stood in great respect, not only held him
+justified in the countenance he had given her, but applauded him
+loudly for his bold, open-handed help to a lonely woman in a strange
+place.
+
+"And what are your plans for the future?" asked the old man in his
+most solicitous voice. "If I, or any of us, can be of the least
+service to you, I hope you will command us."
+
+She thanked him sadly, and said that all which any one could do for
+her he had already done. She had gone to France for a short time to
+calm herself after the late excitement, but she could not content
+herself abroad.
+
+"My life, Mr. Paulton, up to this, has been tempest-tossed, although
+little may have been seen of the disturbance. I am weary of strife,
+and yearn for quiet. Kilcash is not a very lively place, but it seems
+to me that I have within the past couple of months had enough of
+excitement to satisfy me for the rest of my time."
+
+He smiled, and shook his head in gallant expostulation.
+
+"No doubt," he said, "a little rest in your old home will be grateful
+and beneficial to you; but we must see you again. We have not so many
+friends that we can afford to lose you."
+
+"I am a very new friend," she said sadly.
+
+Alfred would have given ten years of his life to tell her she was
+dearer to them than all the other friends they had in the world. His
+father said:
+
+"The depth of friendship is not to be measured by years only, or,
+indeed, chiefly. Some people have the faculty of making better friends
+in an hour than others can in a lifetime. We were brought together
+under most peculiar and distressing circumstances, and you have won
+all our love." He took her hand with paternal cordiality. "If we are
+so unfortunate as not to find a little place in your heart, it must be
+owing to some defect on our part--owing to the want in us of some
+faculty which could enlist your regard. It is not, I am sure, my dear
+madam, from any lack of desire to win your confidence and good will."
+
+All this rather long and old-fashioned speech was said with a sweet,
+benevolent chivalry which would have silenced and abashed any one
+who felt disposed to regard it as too fine and elaborate for a
+drawing-room scene of our own day. "Bravo, sir!" cried Alfred. He was
+a good, affectionate son, and had always been on the best terms with
+his father; but he never felt absolutely proud of the old man before.
+He coloured with pleasure. This simple homage of the old man touched
+all--Mrs. Davenport herself--as something sacred. The tears stood in
+his wife's eyes. What a privilege it was to own the love and share the
+confidences of such a gentle and generous heart! "I am sure," said
+Mrs. Paulton, scarcely able to keep her tears back, "that you will
+always think of us as of old friends. I know you will make up out of
+your own goodness whatever you may find wanting in us."
+
+Mrs. Paulton took the widow's other hand in both hers.
+
+Mrs. Davenport opened her lips as if to speak, but no words came. Then
+slowly and mutely the tears formed in her eyes and fell down upon her
+black dress. Alfred and O'Brien withdrew into the front room and
+closed the folding doors; the two girls stole noiselessly away.
+
+Mr. Paulton moved to the window. Mrs. Davenport's head gradually sank
+on her chest; she breathed heavily, and swayed slightly to and fro.
+She rose slowly.
+
+"I must go now," she said.
+
+"No, no; you must not. You must stay with us. You are too lonely."
+
+She looked fearfully into the other woman's eyes.
+
+"I have been alone since I was born, and I am afraid."
+
+"Afraid of what?" asked Mrs. Paulton, anxiously.
+
+She thought the fear must have some connection with the widow's recent
+trial.
+
+"I am afraid of companionship."
+
+Mrs. Paulton rose and stood before her guest, gazing wonderingly into
+the dark, fathomless, tearful eyes, now startled, looking as though
+they expected to see a strange, disturbing object.
+
+"Come with me to my room." She nodded towards her husband. "We shall
+be quieter there."
+
+"I cannot. I must get back. I am going"--a shudder--"home this
+evening."
+
+Mr. Paulton turned round and said:
+
+"You shall not go to-night. You must not leave us so soon. Go with my
+wife; she will comfort you. You have an hour between this and
+luncheon."
+
+The beautiful woman raised her face.
+
+"Forgive me, Mr. Paulton. I have as much hatred of anything like a
+scene as any one else, but I feel--I feel a bit broken--broken down. I
+am not so young as I look. I am thirty-four; but in all my life I have
+lived alone, within myself, and your kindness--the kindness of you and
+Mrs. Paulton has been too much for me. It may sound strange, but
+kindness is unkindness to me. I shall be better when I find myself
+alone once more. I am used to such companionship--none other.
+Good-bye."
+
+He went to her, and took her again by the hand.
+
+"Hush, child--hush! I will not have you leave us to-day. If we have
+been able to do a little for you, do you a little for us. Stay with us
+this one day, if no more--only this one day."
+
+"No, no; I cannot. Good-bye."
+
+"Wait!" he said, holding up his hand and approaching the folding doors
+that opened into the front room. "It is a long and lonely journey to
+the south of Ireland. Perhaps we can find you an escort--company." He
+passed into the front room. The two young men were seated at the
+window looking out on the little garden between the house and the
+road. "You re going to Ireland, to Kilcash, Alfred--when?"
+
+"We were thinking of going soon, sir; but----"
+
+He paused and looked at his friend. He knew his father well, and
+guessed that he had asked the lonely woman to stay with them for a
+while. His father had indeed said more than once he wished an
+opportunity of this kind might occur.
+
+"Can you go to-morrow? Mrs. Davenport wants to go to-night; but if you
+can manage to go to-morrow she may be induced to stay to-night with
+us."
+
+"We shall only be too happy, sir," said Alfred, turning away to hide
+his satisfaction.
+
+"Very good. We shall say to-morrow evening," said the old man, as he
+withdrew into the back room and shut the doors. He went to where the
+two women stood. "It is all settled. We will not ask you to do too
+much for us this time. Mr. O'Brien and my son are starting for the
+south of Ireland to-morrow. They are going to the village near which
+you live--Kilcash--and will leave you at your own gate."
+
+"Mr. O'Brien and Mr. Paulton going to Kilcash! Surely this is arranged
+for me--at the moment."
+
+"No, indeed; it has been settled for weeks. You see"--he smiled, and
+imported some gaiety into his voice--"Fate is stronger than you. You
+would not ask them to set off at once--to-night? Mr. O'Brien arrived
+in London only last night, and I could not dream of asking him to
+start again for Ireland this evening. Besides, Alfred, I am sure,
+could not get ready in time, and you must not go alone. Take her
+upstairs now, Kate, and make her rest till luncheon. Take her away,
+Kate."
+
+"But," she persisted, as Mrs. Paulton guided her reluctant steps to
+the door, "I am used to being alone."
+
+"Not travelling alone. I must have my way this time."
+
+"But I really am used to travelling alone."
+
+"Then we must insist upon this being an exception. Now, we never allow
+any arguments in this house."
+
+He opened the door for the two ladies. Mrs. Davenport shook her head
+mournfully, and suffered herself to be led out of the room by Mrs.
+Paulton.
+
+
+
+
+                           END OF VOL. II.
+
+
+
+
+                         * * * * * * * * * *
+           CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Tempest-Driven (Vol. II of 3), by Richard Dowling
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42751 ***