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"To tell you the truth, I have not read the letter through. I saw your name in it, and I gathered from your message that you wished to see me here. I sent my note to your hotel and then went on with something else. Pray pardon me. Is this a professional consultation? For your own sake, I sincerely hope not!" "It is hardly a professional consultation, Mr. Playmore.
When I took him the news of his father's death, and told him the creditors were swallowing what was left of Playmore, what do you think he did?" Old Christopher Dogan smiled; his eyes twinkled with a mirth which had more pain than gaiety. "God love you, I know what he did. He flung out his hands, and said: 'Let it go! It's nothing to me. Michael, have I said true?" Michael nodded.
When his young friend made the remark about the sessions and assizes, Calhoun was making his way up the rocky hillside to take the homeward path to his father's place, Playmore. With the challenge and the monstrous good-bye, a stone came flying up the hill after him and stopped almost at his feet. He made no reply, however, but waved a hand downhill, and in his heart said: "Well, maybe he's right.
"If I fail to find the person," I said, "will you undertake to help me?" Benjamin pledged himself to help me, cheerfully. The next morning, when I was brushing my hair, and thinking over my affairs, I called to mind a forgotten resolution of mine at the time I first read the Report of my husband's Trial. Playmore.
Thereupon he read the note, and added: "We'll see him of the Calhouns risin' high beyant poverty and misfortune some day." Old Christopher nodded. "I'm glad Miles Calhoun was buried on the hilltop above Playmore. He had his day; he lived his life. Things went wrong with him, and he paid the price we all must pay for work ill-done."
He is palpably relieved when he finds that this is not the case." The pen stopped; and the questions went on. "Let us advance to your second visit," said Mr. Playmore, "when you saw Dexter alone. Tell me again what he did, and how he looked when you informed him that you were not satisfied with the Scotch Verdict." I repeated what I have already written in these pages.
"I don't believe they can do it, master. Dublin and Ireland think more of you than they did of Erris Boyne. There's nothing behind you except the wildness of youth nothing at all. If anny one had said to me at Playmore that you'd do the things you've done with drink and cards since you come to Dublin, "I'd have swore they were liars.
The Diary will hang him? How came Dexter to know what was in my husband's Diary? And what does he mean by 'Number Nine, Caldershaws, and the rest of it? Facts again?" "Facts again!" Mr. Playmore answered, "muddled up together, as you may say but positive facts for all that. Caldershaws, you must know, is one of the most disreputable districts in Edinburgh.
Playmore?" "I never was more in earnest in my life. Your rash visit to Dexter, and your extraordinary imprudence in taking him into your confidence have led to astonishing results. The light which the whole machinery of the Law was unable to throw on the poisoning case at Gleninch has been accidentally let in on it by a Lady who refuses to listen to reason and who insists on having her own way.
"Never is a long day," returned my companion. "And time has its surprises in store for all of us." We turned away, and walked back in silence to the park gate, at which the carriage was waiting. On the return to Edinburgh, Mr. Playmore directed the conversation to topics entirely unconnected with my visit to Gleninch.
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