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He turned to follow the sergeant from the room, a man bent and beaten down with utter shame. "Stop!" said Chalmers. He turned fiercely to Mary. "Will you swear will you take your oath he is not the man?" "I swear it," said Mary. "You're swearing to a lie," said Chalmers, "and you know it." Major Whiteley was cooler and more courteous. "Thank you, Miss Drennan," he said.

She had armed herself with a long-handled hay-fork, which she held before her threateningly, as a soldier holds a rifle with a bayonet fixed. "Put up your hands and stand still," said Murnihan, "both of you!" "Put up your hands!" said Denis, and he pointed the revolver at Mrs. Drennan. The old woman was undaunted. "You murdering blackguards!" she shouted. "Would you shoot a woman?"

They were: J.C. Lyon, E.P. Harmon, E.G. Peyton, Jr., J.M. Ellis, G.S. McMillan, Samuel Young, W.G. Henderson, Edwin Hill, T.R. Gowan, J.F. Simmons, Wesley Drane, D.W. Walker, DeWitte Stearns, D.P. Coffee, E.W. Cabiness, A.E. Reynolds, Thomas Christian, Austin Pollard, J.J. Hooker, O.H. Whitfield, E. Stafford, W.A. Drennan, Thomas Walton, E.H. Osgood, C.A. Sullivan, Hiram Cassedy, Jr., W.B. Peyton, J.D. Barton, J.J. Dennis, W.D. Frazee, P.P. Bailey, L.C. Abbott, H.W. Warren, R. Boyd, R.B. Stone, William Breck, J.N. Campbell, H.R. Ware and J.B. Deason.

W. J. Van Diveer, a young man of the Drennan company, who had been sitting on a wagon-tongue near the speaker, leaped to his feet, with a pistol leveled at the big horseman's head, and with a manner that left no doubt that he meant what he said, shouted: "I'll be damned if you can do that here. Now, you put down your gun, and go."

He was defended by Curran, in the still more famous speech in which occurs his apostrophe to "the genius of Universal Emancipation;" but he atoned in the cells of Newgate, for circulating the dangerous doctrine which Drennan had broached, and Curran had immortalized.

No other word did Drennen draw from her. She sat as she had sat a little while ago, her arms flung about her knees, her face hidden in her arms. And so, at last, he left her. Drennan slept two hours that night. He awoke rested, refreshed, eager. He did not need sleep. He was Youth's own, tireless, stimulated with the golden elixir.

"I've got the right man, sure enough," said Chalmers. "Miss Drennan," said Major Whiteley, "I shall have eight men brought into this room one after another, and I shall ask you to identify the man who fired a shot at your mother, the man who removed his mask before he left the room." He rang the bell which stood on the table. The sergeant opened the door, and stood at attention. Mr.

Denis Ryan and Mary Drennan stood together at the corner of the wood where the road turns off and runs straight for a mile into the town. They were young, little more than boy and girl, but they were lovers and they stood together, as lovers do. His left arm was round her. His right hand held her hand. Her head rested on his shoulder.

"Good-evening, Miss Drennan!" The greeting was friendly enough, but he looked at the girl with unfriendly eyes. "Don't forget the meeting to-night, Denis!" he said. "It's in Flaherty's barn at nine o'clock. Mind, now! It's important, and you'll be expected!" The words were friendly, but there was the hint of a threat in the way they were spoken.

"We need not trouble you any further." Mary Drennan rose, bowed to the two men, and left the room. "You may let those men go, Chalmers," said Major Whiteley quietly. "There's no evidence against them, and you can't convict them." "I must let them go," said Chalmers. "But they're the men who were there, and the last of them, Denis Ryan, fired the shot."