A to Z Classics - Bram Stoker - The Complete Novels

“Others” — that meant Norah, of course — good old Dick! It was just as well for Mr. Murdock’s physical comfort, and for the peace of the neighborhood, that I did not meet him then and there; for, under these favoring conditions, there would have been a continuance of his experiences under the hands of Dick Sutherland.

Then Dick went on to tell me at greater length what Norah had conveyed in her letter — that, since I had left, Murdock had taken Bat Moynahan to live with him, and kept him continually drunk; that the two of them were evidently trying to locate the whereabouts of the treasure; and that, whenever they thought they were not watched, they trespassed on Joyce’s land, to get near a certain part of the bog.

“I mean to watch them the first dark night,” wrote Dick, at the close of his letter; “for I cannot help thinking that there is some devilment on foot. I don’t suppose you care much for the treasure — you’ve got a bigger treasure from Knockcalltecrore than ever was hidden in it by men — but, all the same, it is yours after Murdock’s time is up; and, as the guardian of your interest, I feel that l have a right to do whatever may be necessary to protect you. I have seen, at times, Murdock give such a look at Moynahan out of the corners of his eyes — when he thought no one was looking — that, upon my soul, I am afraid he means — if he gets the chance — to murder the old man, after he has pumped him of all he knows. I don’t want to accuse a man of such an intention, without being able to prove it, and of course have said nothing to a soul; but I shall be really more comfortable in my mind when the man has gone away.”

By the time I had finished the letter, Mr. Chapman had run through his correspondence — vacation business was not much in his way — and we discussed affairs.

The settlement of matters connected with my estate, and the purchase of Knockcalltecrore, together with the making of certain purchases — including a ring for Norah — kept me a few days in London; but at length all was complete, and I started on my trip to the west of Ireland. Before leaving, I wrote to Norah that I would be at Knockcalltecrore on the morning of the 20th of October; and also to Dick, asking him to see that Andy was sent to meet me at Galway on the morning of the 19th, for I preferred rather to have the drive in solitude than to be subjected to the interruptions of chance fellow-passengers.

At Dublin Mr. Caicy met me, as agreed; and together we went to various courts, chambers, offices, and banks, completing the purchase with all the endless official formalities and eccentricities habitual to a country whose administration has traditionally adopted and adapted every possible development of all belonging to red-tape.

At last, however, all was completed; and very early the next morning Mr. Caicy took his seat in the Galway express, in a carriage with the owner of Knockcalltecrore, to whom he had been formally appointed Irish law agent.

The journey was not a long one, and it was only twelve o’clock when we steamed into Galway. As we drew up at the platform, I saw Dick, who had come over to meet me. He was, I thought, looking a little pale and anxious; but as he did not say anything containing the slightest hint of any cause for such a thing, I concluded that he wished to wait until we were alone. This, however, was not to be for a little while; for Mr. Caicy had telegraphed to order lunch at his house, and thither we had to repair. We walked over, although Andy, who was in waiting outside the station, grinning from ear to ear, offered to “rowl our ‘an’rs over in half a jiffey.”

Lunch over, and our bodies the richer for some of Mr. Caicys excellent port, we prepared to start. Dick took occasion to whisper to me:

“Some time on the road propose to walk for a bit, and send on the car. I want a talk with you alone without making a mystery!”

“All right, Dick. Is it a serious matter?”

“Very serious!”

When, some miles on our road, we came to a long stretch of moorland, I told Andy to stop till we got off. This being done, I told him to go on and wait for us at the next house, as we wished to have a walk.

“The nixt house?” queried Andy, “the very nixt house? Must it be that same?”

“No, Andy,” I answered, “the next after that will do equally well, or the third, if it is not too far off. Why do you want to change?”

“Well, yer ‘an’r, to tell ye the thruth, there’s a girrul at the house beyant what thinks it’s a long time on the road I am widout doin’ anythin’ about settlin’ down, an’ that it’s time I asked her fortin, anyhow. Musha! but it’s afeerd l am to shtop there, fur maybe she’d take advantage iv me whin she got me all alone, an’ me havin’ to wait there till yez come. An’ me so soft-hearted, that maybe I’d say too much or too little.” “Why too much or too little?”

“Faix, if I said too much I might be settled down before the month was out; an’ if I said too little I might have a girrul lukin’ black at me iv’ry time I dhruv by. The house beyant it is a public, an’ shure I know I’m safe there anyhow — if me dhrouth’II only hould out!”

I took the hint, and Andy spun my shilling in the air as he drove off. Dick and I walked together, and when he was out of ear-shot I said:

“Now, old fellow, we are alone. What is it?”

“It’s about Murdock.”

“Not more than you told me in your letter, I hope. I owe you a good turn for that thrashing you gave him!”

“Oh, that was nothing; it was a labor of love. What I want to speak of is a much more serious affair.”

“Nothing to touch Norah, I hope?” I said, anxiously.

“This individual thing is not, thank God! But everything which that ruffian can do to worry her, or any of us, will be done. We’ll have to watch him closely.”

“What is this new thing?”

“It is about old Moynahan. I am in serious doubt and anxiety as to what I should do. At present I have only suspicion to go on, and not the faintest shadow of proof, and I really want help and advice.”

“Tell me all about it.”

“I shall, exactly as I remember it; and when I have told you, you may be able to draw some conclusion which can help us.”

“Go on; but remember I am, as yet, in ignorance of what it is all about. You must not take any knowledge on my part for granted.”

“I’ll bear it in mind. Well, you remember what I said in my letter, that I had a suspicion of Murdock, and intended watching him?” I nodded. “Two nights after I had written that, the evening was dark and wet — just the weather I would have chosen myself had I had any mysterious purpose on hand. As soon as it got dark I put on my black water-proof and fishing-boots and a sou’wester, and then felt armed for any crouching or lying down that might be required. I waited outside Murdock’s house in the lane-way, where I could see from the shadows on the window that both men were in the house. I told you that old Bat Moynahan had taken up his residence entirely with the Gombeen Man —”

“And that he was always drunk.”

“Exactly. I see you understand the situation. Presently I heard a stumble on the stone outside the porch, and peeping in through the hedge I saw Murdock holding up old Moynahan. Then he shut the door and they came down the path. The wind was by this time blowing pretty strongly, and made a loud noise in the hedge-rows, and bore in the roar of the surf. Neither of the men could hear me, for I took care as I followed them to keep on the leeward side, and always with something between us. Murdock did not seem to have the slightest suspicion that anyone was even on the hillside, let alone listening, and he did not even lower his tone as he spoke. Moynahan was too drunk to either know or care how loud he spoke, and indeed both had to speak pretty loud in order to be heard through the sound of the growing storm. The rain fell in torrents, and the men passed down the boreen stumbling and slipping. I followed on the other side of the hedge, and I can tell you I felt grateful to the original Mackintosh, or Golosh, or whatever was the name of the Johnny who invented the water-proof. When they had reached the foot of the hill, they went on the road which curves round by the south-east, and I managed to scramble through the fir wood without losing sight of them. When they came to the bridge over the stream, where it runs out on the north side of the peninsula, they turned up on the far bank. I slipped over the bridge behind them, and got on the far side of the fringe of alders. Here they stopped and sheltered for a while, and as I was but a few feet from them I heard every word which passed. Murdock began by saying to Moynahan: