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Updated: June 4, 2025
I know, vicar, when you read this, it will flash into your mind that poor O'Hagan had been drinking again. You may banish any such thought ... there was a different look in O'Hagan's eyes.
But if a tenant shot me it would be difficult to identify him, more difficult to arrest him, and downright impossible to convict him. Since Lord O'Hagan's Jury Act it is quite impossible to get convictions against the lower orders witness the memorable instance of Mr. Creagh, when the assassin's gun burst and blew his finger off.
It was O'Hagan's whole business to find desolate corners, where he could sleep without the fear of interruption by the police; and hence being in a part of the country that he knew well, he bethought himself suddenly of the great barn next to the mansion house at Tilney St. Lawrence. It was always full of good hay, as large as a barrack and no thoroughfare passed within a quarter of a mile of it.
Maitland relinquished the inquisition as unprofitable, willing to concede O'Hagan's theory a reasonable one, the more readily since he himself could by no means have sworn that the woman had actually come out through the door. Such had merely been his impression, honest enough, but founded on circumstantial evidence.
O'Hagan's agitated countenance loomed over a dusty shoulder, and the battered silk hat of the nighthawk brought up the rear. "Come in, everybody," Maitland greeted them cheerfully, turning back into the study and tossing the revolver, shreds of smoke still curling up from its muzzle, upon a divan. "O'Hagan," he called, on second thought, "jump down-stairs and see that all New York doesn't get in.
Love is unreasoning and unreasonable even when unrecognized. His senses seemed to vibrate with redoubled activity, to become abnormally acute. For the first time he was conscious of the imperative clamor of the electric bell in O'Hagan's quarters, as well as of the janitor's rich brogue voicing his indignation as he opened the basement door and prepared to ascend.
Gimme time.... There they are. Go ahead." "Hello, hello!" "Pwhat is ut?" Her heart sank: O'Hagan's voice meant that Maitland was out. "O'Hagan is that you?... Tell Mr. Maitland " "He's gawn out for the noight an' " "Tell him, please " "But he's out. Ring up in the marnin'." "But can't you take this message for him? Please...."
O'Hagan could see those great green flashes that burst in the sky so near to him. He could almost hear the angry zipping of high explosive shrapnel close over his head. God! how he hated it all! "How hard it is, Father, to make these children understand!" came softly from the priest's lips. O'Hagan's regiment had retired to their trenches in good order.
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