A to Z Classics - Bram Stoker - The Complete Novels

We left Andy as usual at the foot of the Hill, and went up to Murdock’s house. The door was locked; and although we knocked several times, we could get no answer. We came away, therefore, and went up the Hill, as Dick wished me to see where, according to old Moynahan, was the last place at which the Frenchmen had been seen. As we went on and turned the brow of the mound, which lay straight up — for the bog-land lay in a curve round its southern side — we saw before us two figures at the edge of the bog. They were those of Murdock and old Moynahan. When we saw who they were, Dick whispered to me:

“They are at the place to which I changed the mark, but are still on Joyce’s land.”

They were working just as Dick and I had worked with Murdock, when we had recovered the gun-carriage, and were so intent on the work at which they toiled with feverish eagerness that they did not see us coming; and it was only when we stood close beside them that they were conscious of our presence. Murdock turned at once with a scowl and a sort of snarl. When he saw who it was he became positively livid with passion, and at once began to bombard us with the foulest vituperation. Dick pressed my arm, as a hint to keep quiet and leave the talking to him, and I did nothing; but he opposed the Gombeen Man’s passion with an unruffled calm. Indeed, he seemed to me to want even to exasperate Murdock to the last degree. When the latter paused for a second for breath, he quietly said:

“Keep your hair on, Murdock, and just tell me quietly why you are trespassing; and why, and what, you are trying to steal from this property?”

Murdock made no answer, so Dick went on:

“Let me tell you that I act for the owner of this land, who bought it as it is, and I shall hold you responsible for your conduct. I don’t want to have a row needlessly, so if you go away quietly, and promise to not either trespass here again, or try to steal anything, I shall not take any steps. If not, I shall do as the occasion demands.”

Murdock answered him with the most manifestly intentional insolence:

“You! ye tell me to go away! I don’t ricognise ye at all. This land belongs to me frind, Mr. Joyce, an’ I shall come on it whin I like; and do as I like. Whin me frind tells me not to come here, I shall shtay away. Till then I shall do as I like.”

Said Dick:

“You think that will do to bluff me because you know Joyce is away for the day, and that, in the mean time, you can do what you want, and perhaps get out of the bog some property that does not belong to you. I shall not argue with you any more; but I warn you that you will have to answer for your conduct.”

Murdock and Moynahan continued their pulling at the rope. We waited till the haul was over, and saw that the spoil on this occasion was a part of the root of a tree. Then, when both men were sitting exhausted beside it, Dick took out his note-book, and began to make notes of everything. Presently he turned to Murdock, and said:

“Have you been fishing, Mr. Murdock? What a strange booty you have brought up! It is really most kind of you to be aiding to secure the winter firing for Mr. Joyce and my friend. Is there anything but bog-wood to be found here?”

Murdock’s reply was a curse and a savage scowl; but old Moynahan joined in the conversation:

“Now, I tould ye, Murtagh, that we wur too low down.”

“Shut up!” shouted the other, and the old man shrank back as if he had been struck.

Dick looked down, and seemed to be struck by the cross of loose stones at his feet, and said:

“Dear me! that is very strange — a cross of stones! It would almost seem as if it were made here to mark something; but yet” — here he lifted one of the stones — “it cannot have been long here; the grass is fresh under the stones.”

Murdock said nothing, but clinched his hands and ground his teeth. Presently, however, he sent Moynahan back to his house to get some whiskey. When the latter was out of ear-shot, Murdock turned to us, and said:

“An’ so ye think to baffle me, do ye? Well, I’ll have that money out if I have to wade in yer blood. I will, by the livin’ God!” and he burst into a string of profanities that made us shudder.

He was in such deadly earnest that I felt a pity for him, and said impulsively:

“Look here, if you want to get it out, you can have a little more time if you like, if only you will conduct yourself properly. I don’t want to be bothered looking for it. Now, if you’ll only behave decently, and be something like a civilised being, I’ll give you another month if you want it.”

Again he burst out at me with still more awful profanities. He didn’t want any of my time. He’d take what time he liked. God himself — and he particularised the persons of the Trinity — couldn’t balk him, and he’d do what he liked; and if I crossed his path it would be the worse for me! And, as for others, that he would send the hard word round the country about me and my leman. I couldn’t be always knocking the ruffian down, so I turned away and called to Dick.

“Coming,” said Dick, and he walked up to Murdock and knocked him down. Then, as the latter lay dazed on the grass, he followed me.

“Really,” he said, apologetically, “the man wants it. It will do him good.”

Then we went back to Carnaclif.

These three days were very dreary ones for me; we spent most of the time walking over Knockcalltecrore and making plans for the future. But, without Norah, the place seemed very dreary.

We did not go over on the Monday, as we knew that Joyce and Norah would not get home until late in the evening, and would be tired. Early, however, on the day after — Tuesday — we drove over. Joyce was out, and Dick left me at the foot of the boreen, so when I got to the house I found Norah alone.

The dear girl showed me her new dresses with much pride; and presently going to her room put on one of them, and came back to let me see how she looked. Her face was covered with blushes. Needless to say that I admired the new dress, as did her father, who just then came in.

When she went away to take off the dress Joyce beckoned me outside. When we got away from the house he turned to me; his face was very grave, and he seemed even more frightened than angry.

“There’s somethin’ I was tould while I was away that I think ye ought to know.”

“Go on, Mr. Joyce.”

“Somebody has been sayin’ hard things about Norah.”

“About Norah! Surely there is nobody mad enough or bad enough to speak evil of her.”

“There’s wan.”

He turned as he spoke, and looked instinctively in the direction of Murdock’s house.

“Oh, Murdock, as he threatened. What did he say?”

“Well, I don’t know. I could only get it that somebody was sayin’ somethin’, an’ that it would be well to have things so that no wan could say anythin’ that we couldn’t prove. It was a frind tould me; and that’s all he would tell. Mayhap he didn’t know any more himself; but I knew him to be a frind.”

“And it was a friendly act, Mr. Joyce. I have no doubt that Murdock has been sending round wicked lies about us all. But, thank God, in a few days we will be all moving, and it doesn’t matter much what he can do.”

“No, it won’t matter much in wan way, but he’s not goin’, all the same, to throw dirt on me child. If he goes on I’ll folly him up.”

“He won’t go on, Mr. Joyce. Before long, he’ll be out of the neighborhood altogether. To tell you the truth, I have bought the whole of his land, and I get possession of it tomorrow; and then I’ll never let him set foot here again. When once he is out of this he will have too much other wickedness on hand to have time to meddle with us.”

“That’s thrue enough. Well, we’ll wait an’ see what happens; but we’ll be mighty careful all the same.”