He had, however, immediately on being jailed, written to the government, telling of the projected invasion of Irelan

in. His lawyer made the utmost of this, but to no avail. The impression in the court was that both men ha

he instigation of the Attorney-General, who was grateful for the information about France, had been changed from mu

ndlord, Swinton, and Dyck had admitted it. Miles Calhoun was bent upon finding what the story of the quarrel was; for his own lawyer had told him that Dyck's refusal t

u killed Erris Boyne, he deserved it. He was a bad man, as the world knows. That is

a woman?" rema

"That's what I mean. Boyne was older than y

is wife?" he asked with irony. "Wife-no!" retorted the old ma

r saw her, except at the trial, and I was so sorry for her I ceased

g elsewhere, and she divorced him by act of parliament. I don't think you knew it, but his first wife was one of your acquaintances-Mrs. Llyn, who

't know that Erris Boyne w

ll her, and she'll hea

ooked at his so

cell. His nose smelled the damp of it, and

are. Why don't you tell the truth about the quarrel? What's the good of kee

profit?"

the dark chain of circumstantial evidence. Also, your father would profit. I'd be saved s

eer smile lighted his haggard face. "I

went on. "It's not for you to prove yourself

th a waistcoat button.

er it is, I believe it would be to your credit-I'll say that for you. If it was to your credit, even if they believe you guilty of killing Erris Boyne, they'd touch you lightly. Ah, in th

thought of all those things. I hold my peace because-because I hold m

er-because you don't love me with all you

erent-it's

t's a

ll not tell. There are thing

than save yourself, you bring dish

was submerge

ut I'll not tell the world of the quarrel between that man and myself. My

he years that'll spoil the making of your life; and you do it because you think you'll spare somebody. Well, I ask you to spare me. I don't want the man that's going to inherit my

I say it to you-I'll stand by what my conscience and my soul have dictated to me. You call me a dreamer. Let it be so. I'm Irish; I'm a Celt. I've drunk deep of all that Ireland means. All that's behind me is my own, back to the shadowy kings of Ireland, who lost life and gave it because they believed in what they did. So will I. If I'm to walk the hills no more on t

the old man had dropped on th

into court again to-morrow. I have to think h

cause of the quarrel, for the reason that you might hurt somebody. If you do

s face looked pinched, his whole appearance

of principle. My heart tells me what to

ast the old man drew the cloak about hi

nd see me again. If I'm condemned, go back to Playmore; if I'm set free, go back

f you're a

'll take to the high

rther words, Dyck was alon

ied in dejection. Presently, however, the door o